#vaguely concerned having to go back will break me?

[matrixbearer2024]

Imagine being Ford's lovely wife and mother to triplets, they take after him in so many ways and you couldn't be happier.

Poindexter named the trio, you were too out of it to really have done much and he didn't want to disturb you. Personally you couldn't help but think your husband went too brainiac on even this— but the kids had relatively normal names so you were okay with it.

Aeschylus Maximillian (Lastname)–Pines

Alexander Euler (Lastname)–Pines

Athena Faraday (Lastname)–Pines

Dude really had to name them after scientists or rulers huh-

Especially the eldest of the trio, he takes after the researcher in so many ways it's almost like your husband suddenly spawned a mini-me.

For the first couple months, Sixer constantly had one of his toddlers either in an arm or in direct vicinity when he could. He couldn't stop himself from wanting to be around them in some capacity, always wondering and always worrying if they were okay.

It took a couple months for the both of you to figure out a system that divided his time aptly and everything was well.

Given that Stanford was always so busy with his research and work, the triplets could only really spend their nights with him. Even if he was busy, the pictures and memories formed on those nights with your workaholic lover was more than enough for the time being.

Imagine Stanford's expression when the triplets each say: "Dada" as their first word. This man would break down in sobs, he could take that day off and spoil them.

He's also totally not crying over the fact that his little tykes are also somewhat growing up in just the teensiest manner.

Everything seemed to be going so well, so smoothly, when all out of the blue your husband seemed to grow distracted. The distance wasn't apparent at first, only getting worse and worse when he eventually never had time to spend with the triplets because of a project.

"Ma...? Where's Dada?"

The crippling feeling of being unable to explain such a loaded question, instead just tossing back a sad: "He's busy working." And noticing the similarly dejected response from your kid.

Imagine how different it eventually is when only you end up waking on the bed meant for two. Rarely would you find Ford even in your shared room anymore, having made himself home down in his lab.

You didn't know when or what caused him to work like tomorrow didn't exist, Ford never had this insane of a drive to research before. It concerned you all the more that he didn't seem to tell you anything.

It was like both of you weren't even married when he brushed past you with another cup of coffee in his hands before disappearing into the lab again.

Eventually it all imploded, you couldn't take it anymore. You confronted Ford down in his lab and you both had what was likely the worst fight you both ever had in your years, that was when he finally came clean about his project.

Not to mention about his 'muse' to add to it.

You couldn't understand why he even vaguely thought being in cahoots with what for all you knew was some kind of demon was a good idea.

You had an extremely bad feeling about all this.

[generalluxun]

A second scene between fics.

“-and that’s the latest we have on this new hero careening across the streets of Paris,” Nadja Camchak’s image smiled vaguely from the TV screen.

“Can we even call them a hero, Nadja?” Her co-anchor asked with an even more vapid cheer.

“Well Jean,” Nadja simpered, “It’s definitely a curious situation. They helped defeat an akuma, but almost immediately got in a fight with our very own Ladybug. How are we supposed to interpret that, especially alongside moments like these?”

She gestured at the air and a half dozen images of Purrge apprehending criminals, pulling people from ruined cars, and even rescuing a cat, scrolled behind her.

“I think it’s safe to say that at the very least they’re not a villain. Perhaps we have a heroic territorial dispute on our hands?”

The camera swung back to Jean who was frowning in overexaggerated concern, “A most troubling thought, Nadja. It doesn’t help that when asked for comment this Not-Cat-Noir hissed at reporters and crushed a microphone.”

Nadja tilted her head in mock camaraderie, “Well Jean-”

*Kthunk* The heavy slap of metal plates overrode the TV.

The TV that hung small and as an afterthought in a stuffy room that predated the very idea of a ‘recreational gym.’ Le Grand Paris had repurposed it for guests, stuffed it full of exercise machinery despite the lack of ventilation, though only one patron was present at the moment.

Chloé leaned forward, panting where she sat at the lat-pull down machine. As sweat dripped down her face, framing a maniacal grin, she glanced up at the news cast, “Ha! Crushed it, bit it in half, and spit it back in his face more like.”

Almost empty; Plagg floated up out of a nest of discarded hand towels, cackling. He floated up towards the screen. “You people have made so many new and interesting things to break since I was last out. Electronics? Sparks and fires already barely contained. It’s brilliant!”

Chloé adjusted her fingerless gloves and reached up for the pull bar again. She made sure of her grip before starting another set, “nnf. You should have seen the cat one. Hfff. Cat in a tree? Cataclysm! Gnnf.  Poof! No tree and I didn’t even drop the cat.”

Plagg sidebarred, “I would hope not.” Then louder, “What’s with all this? There’s not a butterfly in sight when you go out.”

Chloé’s response continued between repetitions, “Better. Than. Ladybug.”

Plagg gestured at the screen. “Yeah, but it’s not making you any friends.”

“Doesn’t. Matter. Better.”

He flew down, dodging back and forth under the rise and fall of weights as Chloé worked.

When she stopped he sat on the weights and asked, “You aren’t moving this anywhere, just back and forth.”

She slumped forward again, forehead against the frame of the weight machine. Sucking in deep breaths in shakey gulps. “Get stronger. That’s how it works, right? You said. For fighting.”

The words seemed to take a while to sink in, or maybe he was considering his answer more than usual. Chloé’s ragged panting filled up the room. Plagg twitched one ear slowly. “Kinda? My power enhances what you already got. So unless you take lessons you’re not suddenly become good with the baton-”

“-stupid stick anyway-”

Plagg wrinkled his nose and deadpanned. “...Right… Anyway, but if you are strong, or fast, you get stronger or faster… like you with your jumps-”

“-eight years of ballet.”

Plagg waved a paw. “Whatever that is. Yeah. So, sure you can raise the baseline, but that takes time. It’s not gonna happen overnight.”

Chloé sat up again and wiped the sweat from her lips. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll still be better.”

Plagg squinted. As Chloé reached up for the bar again he floated off the weights quickly. “Look, fun is fun, but your room says ‘Miss Priss’ to me, so why the sudden urgency?”

She adjusted her grip, looking through him into the past. “I won’t lose this time.”

“What do you mean by-”

The beep and click of the gym door unlocking sent Plagg diving for cover. The door opened slowly and André’s head showed itself around the edge. Spotting Chloé, he paused. “Sweety, hi. I am glad you are enjoying the gym, but our patrons need to be able to use it too…”

Chloé instantly scowled, standing and stomping her foot. “No! I need my privacy. They can have it when I ‘m done.!”

André grimaced. “Honey, I’ll get you a new gym. There’s that old ice rink no one uses any more. You’d have the biggest gym in Paris!”

The mention of the rink triggered a memory. She hadn't gotten the gym back then either; another failure. “No! I don’t want that one. Give it to your guests. This one is mine!”

She stomped her foot again for good measure. Instead of retreating though André’s expression hardened again. “If the gym isn’t open in fifteen minutes, honey, I’ll have the lock changed on it and you won’t get the new key.”

He pulled his head back like the world’s fastest snail as soon as he was finished speaking. The door clicked shut while Chloé was still fighting to not swallow her own tongue in rage.

Plagg poked his head up and scented the air quickly. “Hey now, kid, it’s no big deal. It’s just one time, right kid? Kid?”

“Claws out!”

Purrge grabbed the exercise machine she had been using by one upright and heaved the multi-station behemoth across the room.

Steel buckled, plaster crumbled, and heavy plates splintered the hardwood floor. The tangled wreckage effectively blocked the only exit. It was still minutes before anyone dared try the handle from the other side. Rattle, rattle, click. The door wasn’t budging. Muffled voices called out in intermined frustration and concern.

Purrge sat on the floor, back against the wall and knees to her chest. She held one hand palm up above them. The swirling motes of cataclysm danced and popped in the air; all potential one moment, the next nothing. Her slitted eyes watched unblinking at the world moved on around her.

[manygreetingsfriend]

.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

[evie-sturns]

secret - Chris Sturniolo

summary: chris wants to keep your relationship a secret from the fans, which means he is never around as much as he should be. this sparks an argument, where chris suggests that you 'should just leave.'

contains: angst, cocky!chris, crying, fluff, yelling, comforting.

----------------------≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫----------------———

i lay in chris and i's bed, wrapped up comfortably in the thick sheets.

my head snaps up to look at chris as he swings open the door, he walks inside the room wearing a white tanktop and some black sweatpants.

"just gonna go film." he says vaguely before walking out of the room,

"chris- can i come!?" i call out,

"y/n, no. we talked about this" chris sighs, i get up out of bed and walk towards him,

"please- i don't have to be in it, i just haven't seen you for like a week." i say softly, chris shakes his head, practically discarding me.

"i see you every week, ill be gone for about two hours okay?" chris says blankly,

i feel my face grow hot with embarrassment, i feel like im practically begging for chris to want me, even though im his girlfriend. anger courses through my body, pushing me to my breaking point.

"why- why do you not care about me- or anything i have to say!" i raise my voice, pointing my fingers at chris's chest as i glare my eyes.

"you don't scare me y/n." chris chuckles, bringing my finger down from his chest.

"proves my fucking point! right there--!" i yell, chris just stares at me with a smug smile on his face.

"we agreed to keep us a secret-" chris starts, but i cut him off

"we both agreed to keep us a secret from your fans, not everyone else you've ever known! yes- i get it your fans will be mad but you're- your'e-" my voice breaks as i turn away from him

"don't be acting all pissy because i have a job and you don't." he raises his voice at me,

"excuse you?" i almost laugh,

"yeah, get a grip y/n, honestly." chris sighs, grabbing his phone and going to walk out.

"don't fucking leave-" i shout, "you're a horrible person chris-" i say, holding back floods of tears.

"maybe you're just being a sensitive little bitch?" chris says, the regret is prominent on his face as soon as those words leave his mouth.

"you're being- so mean-" my voice breaks, tears rolling down my flushed face.

"then leave- i'm actually done with you're bullshit, please leave." chris raises his voice.

i look up at him, "actually-?" i say through loud sobs,

he hesitates for a second before speaking, "i- i dont know- if you can handle me being popular then leave-"

"your ego is incredible you asshole-" i squeeze out, walking past him.

he grabs my chin and stops me in my tracks, his large hand clasped tight around my small chin. "excuse me?" he looks down at me,

"i'm going to find nick." i sigh loudly,

"no you're not." chris states,

"i thought we were done?" i say with a loud cry, i wipe my tears away quickly.

suddenly matt peeks his head through the door, "everything okay in here?" matt asks with concern clear on his face

“fuck off matt, genuinely.” chris raises his voice,

“dude, you’re making her cry-“ matt points out, his eyes locking with mine.

“and it’s none of your business, fuck off!” chris yells shakily at matt,

matt walks into the room angrily, pushing chris’s shoulder. chris let’s go of my chin, discarding me.

“you want my girl now?” chris almost laughs as he approaches matt,

“she’s literally like my little sister and i’ve known her my whole life- so god forbid i ask if she’s okay after i hear you scream at her through the walls!” matt grows angry,

“y/n can’t understand that the fans can’t know about me and her, that’s literally it- she’s just being ignorant, like always.” chris speaks as though i’m not here,

“sort your shit out chris.” matt mutters, pushing chris backwards before walking out of the room.

“i- i think i’m gonna go to matt’s room.” i whisper, barely audible.

“yeah- go fuck him while you’re at it.” chris says with a petty tone,

i let out a frustrated sigh before pushing his shoulder back with an angry sob.

“pathetic.” chris scoffs, “do it harder-“ he taunts,

i storm out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me with a loud bang.

i swing open the door to matt’s room, he’s sat at the edge of his bed on his phone.

“matt-“ i sniffle, matt looks up at me before standing up,

“hey- hey you okay?” matt asks frantically, his voice soft.

“i think chris just broke up with me-“ my voice breaks, matt wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug.

“i’m sure he didn’t, he’s just upset right now, you think?” matt whispers into my hair,

i nod, “you can stay in my room tonight, i’ll get the spare mattress.” he suggests, i nod as tears continue to pour down my face.

“i hate him- ihatehimihatehimihatehim.” i sob, matt rubs my back,

“no you don’t, arguments are normal, it happens.” matt sighs.

“i do- hes so mean to me!” i bury my face into my hands.

“shh- sh it’s okay.” matt says, “are you in your pyjamas?” matt asks,

i nod, “okay- then let’s get out the mattress and you can get to sleep.” matt states.

he lets me go before tugging out the matress from under his bed, he throws a couple of blankets and pillows on it before handing me his pug stuffed animal,

“you want this for tonight?” matt asks with a small laugh, i grab the small pug stuffed animal before flopping down on the mattress on the floor.

matt’s always been like a big brother for me, he’s always cared about me so much.

matt bends down and covers me in the blankets, tucking me in. “try have a good sleep okay?” matt whispers, i nod with a small ‘thank you’.

————-

4:23am

i stir awake slowly, i sit up off the matress and look over at matt who’s fast asleep on the bed beside me.

i stand up before stumbling over to the door swiftly, the need to go to the bathroom is overwhelming.

i slowly creak open matt’s door and step out into the corridor.

my footsteps slap against the cold wood as i yawn loudly

i swing open the door to the bathroom, and i’m met with him.

chris.

he’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub, scrolling on his phone. i turn on the warm light which illuminates the small bathroom.

“oh-“ i whisper, spinning back around and reaching for the door handle.

“no- no please come back-“ chris’s voice wobbles.

he’s wearing spider-man pyjama shorts, the same ones that i teased him for a couple weeks ago.

he’s got a thin white shirt on and his brunette hair is messed up completely, his eyes are bloodshot and swollen along with his puffy lips and pink cheeks.

he stands up, looking down at me. i can see the gears in his brain physically spinning as he tries to think of what to say.

“i-i’m sorry i’m still here- i was gonna pack up in the morning.” i break the silence with a couple deep breaths.

chris’s face drops, he buries his face into his hands with a shake of his head.

“i- i didn’t mean that- i was just so caught up in the heat of the moment and i really- really- don’t want to loose you.” chris starts, his eyes watering

“and i’m so sorry for taking you for granted. i love you more than anything, i love you more than anything ever.” chris’s voice breaks loudly, he goes silent as his body jolts up and down.

“are you crying?” i ask softly, he nods.

i don’t say anything, just wrapping my arms around him, he hugs me back weakly.

he buries his head into my shoulder, his soft hair covers half my face.

“and- i’m sorry for crying i just- don’t want you to think i’m only crying for sympathy i just feel really upset.” chris clarifies, i laugh softly,

“i know sweetheart,” i sigh,

“and— and- you don’t have to forgive me- ever— i said proper mean stuff to you.” chris’s voice trembles,

“i forgive you, i just want my old chris back, yeah?” i rub his back,

“you will get that- forever-“ chris sniffs.

we stand in the cold of the bathroom, his arms holding me tightly now, as though he’s afraid to let me go.

i stroke his hair lightly with my manicured nails,

“chris- i don’t mean to ruin this moment but i really really need to pee- that’s why i came in here—“

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

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ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left. 

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“ 

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.” 

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like. 

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing. 

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss. 

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control. 

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall. 

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can. 

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing. 

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath. 

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other. 

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face. 

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises. 

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come. 

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it. 

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath. 

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide. 

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom. 

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly. 

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago. 

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy!  i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone. 

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them. 

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.” 

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes. 

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste. 

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.” 

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep. 

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner. 

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

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© httpsserene 2023

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

[xxknockoutxx]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃.

◉ 𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

(Forgive me. It's my first time writing NSFW)

Tw: overstimulation, sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, crying, comfort, mention of positions (vague) and a couple of other things lol.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨

A huge silent room was filled with the sounds of moans and the repeated smacking of the huge bed smacking the wall. "F-fuck... Baby... You're so cute when you're like this.." Followed by the repeated slamming of his hips into you. By the arch your back was making you would assume that it would just break after one more thrust. The entire bed and its frame shook intensely and the room was filled with a vague sweet smell.

At this point your legs gave out already and you were laying on the bed taking it with nothing but a few whines and an intense grip on the pillow in front of you. "T-toru w-wait. I can't-..." He followed this up with a chuckle. "Don't worry just let me take care of you..."

The speed picks up and all you can do is feel. Blinded by your watery eyes, all you can see is a blurry pillow that's drenched in tears. Your poor cervix being hit every single time and repeatedly getting abused by Satoru's huge cock as it thrusts back in you deeper and deeper until... "Limitless!"

The entire mood and atmosphere of the room goes grey as he immediately gets up and checks on you. "Baby, fuck, I'm so sorry are you okay?" You twitch uncontrollably as you keep your face in the pillow trying to recollect yourself. Satoru grabs some water and snacks before coming back to you quickly and gently putting you in his lap.

"fuck... I'm so sorry..." You sniffle and look up at him. "I-its okay.. I was just a little overstimulated" Satoru had a face disgust with himself before you kissed his neck and jawline before leaving a long kiss on his nice red lips. "'s okay baby I know you just felt good..." He looked up at you and put his self disgust aside and grabbed the snacks/candy and shot you a worried "I'm sorry" look.

"Break?"

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨

"Fuck..baby, you look so pretty under me" You squirm under him as the thrust of his cock sends shock through your entire body. You were trapped under him with thighs putting infinite secondhand pressure on your chest while your feet hung over his shoulders.

" 'guru, wait- I... mmph!" Your whines were muffled by 2 long fingers entering your mouth. "Suck" Just then you followed his orders with little hesitation. But the more and more he thrust into your abused cunt the more and more your tears and numbness caught up to you.

The build up to your third orgasm was evident and it wasn't graceful. "S-Suguru!" He responded with a grin and even rougher treatment. "Overstimulated?" He said looking down at you. It was less of a concerned face and tone more of a condescending one. You looked up at him feeling like the pressure inside you was going to burst.

"Curse!" In an instant the reality had set in a few seconds late. He pulled out which made a small 'pop' noise. When he saw you gasping for air and clenching your thighs together. His mood shifted and he left to go fetch a towel. After cleaning up he put you to bed and let you rest after stepping out of the room.

When you woke up you noticed the soreness in your legs and chest was mostly gone and the fact that Suguru wasn't there. Confused, you sent a text asking where we went. "Y/N, sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to go that far. I should've stopped sooner, I'm downstairs right now and I got you food it's on the table I just figured you would want to have time to yourself after that" you could hear the guilt in his texts and that made you feel guilty. "No Suguru it's okay, I'd feel better if I were with you :)" "alright, I'm coming 🩶"

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

What a predicament to be in. Folded like a pretzel in the lap of your husband after a particularly rough day at work which led to the same treatment reflected in your sex life. Two large hands grip your waist and help you navigate up and down his huge shaft with subtle grunts.

"K-Kento-" "Quiet, All I need is another Hour" "that's the thing I don't think I have another hour in me-" A small pause was followed by a grunt. "Then I'll get my hours worth now" Restricting your hands and holding down your waist he thrusts up into you with intense speed.

It made you want to shatter right then and there. A growing feeling of sickness arises inside your stomach. "K-Kento... Wait... please" A giant hand silences your cries and the reoccurring hits on your cervix pushes you over the edge. Tears stream out of your eyes and your tongue sticks out of your mouth. "Overtime!"

His automatic husband mode completely overpowered his angry, tired, and needy personality. He took you off his lap and laid you down. "Honey, I'm so sorry are you alright?" You roll over to go under the covers with a shiver. "I'm fine kento, I just need some rest, please don't worry." Despite the alarm in his face he agreed. But he might use this as a reason for him to take a break from his sex life.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

At this point you're questioning if you're even alive or if you will be alive when you're done with this if you'll ever be done with it. Right now, being rammed into repeatedly, you lay there just thinking about your decisions which is even harder to do when you can't even focus on something as simple as speaking and breathing.

"t-toj-..." The feeling of his cock slapping your pussy over and over again, making you drool. "Heh, y'r putting on a show aren't 'cha?" In return all he got was a mumble and some broken moans. It was evident that you weren't in the right state of mind when being fucked dumb on his thick length.

"t-toji, I- I can't... 's too much..." A low groan and snicker came from toji as lifted you higher and fucked into you faster and harder. The pleasure and pain evident on your face as you both looked at yourselves in the mirror. Sure it wasn't his favorite position but having you in a full Nelson made him experience an excitement deep within him.

"Damn it, Broke Bitch!" You hiss. "Well that was just mean, doll" he looks at you with a half disappointed and confused face and puts you down. Which you immediately fell on the floor, face first because your legs gave up. "Help me, Brokie" "Nah I don't think I wanna after you called me a broke bitch and clocked out early"

"TOJI on everything I love, you not being one of them, if you don't get me off this dirty fuckin floor..." With a sigh and way too much attitude he obliged. "Fine ya big baby" He picks you up and chucks you on the bed. "Clearly you're washed up" your eyebrows furrowed. As you took sight of his boldness "And clearly your broke ass doesn't understand the fact that I pay the bills in this fucking house and if you don't get your shit together you gonna be sleeping with that fuckin cat"

"yes Ma'am" with a smirk you accept the blanket given to you and snuggle in the big velvety sheets. "Thank you, Brokie Toji"

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨

Straddling Choso was always one of your favorite things to do and he likes it too. "F-Fuck Cho! 's so good" "fuck.... Right there, Ma..." As you continue to ride him your legs slowly started to feel more numb. As good as it felt you didn't know how much longer you could bring yourself to doing this.

"Cho' I don't know how much longer I can keep this up" "Come on mama, you're doing so well..." Choso grips your hips tightly and continues to guide you on his cock. Giving you some words of support while doing so. Tears well up in your eyes as your body starts to give out leaving you to just silently cry for release.

Your hips crash down on his cock repeatedly as a nice silky white ring forms at his base. "That's it baby, just a little more...shit.." his grip only intensifies as he speeds up and gets slightly more possessive. "Cho' please, let's take a break!" "What...?" Clearly, he took that the wrong way which caused him to be even more possessive.

He wrapped his arms around you and thrusted faster. "Mine..." Choso was more terrified of you leaving more than anything so anything that sounded remotely close to a break up just broke him. "Blood!" The gears in choso's head stopped turning. He didn't even realize what was happening for around 10 seconds before he realized you used your safe word.

"Shit, I'm so sorry! Y/N, please forgive me!" Your mind was still fuzzy but you were still conscious enough to know that Choso was 2 seconds away from freaking out. "Hey, hey it's okay! I meant let's relax and take a break." You wipe your tears and his forming tears and you two just quietly cuddle and enjoy each other's company."

𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Even though you should be pretty used to overstimulation, this time is particularly worse because it wasn't just overstimulation. this time it was followed by teasing and it wasn't ideal because this time he didn't take it easy.

"c'mon brat, where's that pretty face gone?" Tears stroll down your face and cover your cheeks. Being fucked dumb on Sukuna wasn't knew but when he chose to be in his true form and in front of people, it was quite literally the worse experience ever.

"'Kuna... I can't.. 's too much-" like those pathetic mumbles were to do anything, the only thing happening right now that was different was the fact that he now seemed prouder in a way. Showing you off like a trophy for all of those lower than him to see.

"M-murder!" His eyes widened slightly as he came to a stop. Then they turned into one of boredom. He dismissed everyone before going back to you. "Brat what's the problem?" Trying to catch your breath while crying wasn't easy. It was even harder when he didn't pull out.

"Kuna, can we take a break, please?" You almost stumble over your words while trying to collect yourself. He takes you off his lap and places you on his throne.

"I'll tell Uraume to drop off some towels and clothes for you, when you are ready, come find me". He started to walk away leaving you with his kimono. "You know where to find me."

"thanks, Kuna..."

"...you're welcome Y/N"

✩*⢄⢁✧ ----.・。.・゜✭.・✫・゜.・。.・・.----✧⡠*☆

An: OMG ITS DONE. sorry everyone this isn't my normal writing style and I was also battling with myself about making it more graphic, I don't have a problem with that stuff but I have to get over the ick of writing it out. As for the safe words I didn't have them planned so I just spat out some bullshit. Ngl I actually felt a little weird writing it but y'know I ended up doing it so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ good for me I guess lol.

@smionrileyswifetehe

⏤͟͟͞͞✧𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐱.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Your stories have definitely scratched that Astarion itch that I've had since I started the game!

One thing that's diffently not sat right with me at the end of the game, is how tav and the gang don't run after astarion after he loses his immunity to the sun. I would imagine that if the player character was romantically involved with the guy they would atleast try to shield or comfort the poor guy. A short drabble on that would be awesome!

That's so sad, I heard that's what happens 😭😭 I'm in act 3 and haven't had to see it for myself yet so yes, let's do some preemptive therapy there! And just warning since I haven't beaten the game yet I'm sure this will be inaccurate as fuck, but also with spoilers somehow ~

~

It was an exhilarating feeling, to win against all odds. One that Astarion had never been confident he would experience. It felt good, final. The official beginning of his new free life, even if it was bittersweet.

This was the bitter part, the end of his illithid protection. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and the burn was already starting. He was being an idiot, standing there with the rest of you like he belonged, waiting for the last possible second before he had to scuttle down in the darkness. But he wanted to see this out. Hadn't he earned that right?

According to the laws of reality, no. No he hadn't, because you had barely opened your mouth before the pain started to overwhelm him. The others would be able to hear it, the sickening sound of his skin crackling.

He was out of time. But before he could make a break for it, you happened. Astarion had been a little preoccupied with his impending doom to pay close attention to what you had been mumbling. But then sudden blackness was blanketing above your heads, opaque enough to make it as dark as night.

Astarion's eyes widened as the pain subsided, surprised beyond belief.

You were looking at him with concern in your eyes, gesturing to the think cloud of darkness above your head, "Will this be dark enough? Can it still get through?"

Astarion stared at you, momentarily confused on why you would do something like that. Before he remembered, oh. Yes. The extended care for his well-being was probably included in the whole love thing. Of course. Obviously.

That was definitely going to take some getting used to.

But the reasoning didn't stop an idiotic smile from blooming on his face.

You grinned back at him, somehow still managing to read his mind even without the tadpoles, "Did you really think I would forget about you?"

He had, but through no fault of your own. One of these days he was going to actually remember that he was worth the effort to keep alive.

"Thank you darling," Astarion said, ignoring the quested as he waltzed up to you. He grabbed your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss, "Just what would I do without you?"

"Speaking of," You turned to the Emperor, a question in your eyes as you vaguely waved upward, "Is there anything we can do about this particular problem?"

"The astral tadpole is still-"

"I'll pass on that, thank you very much," Astarion interrupted, cringing at the very thought of willingly letting another worm into his brain, "But I appreciate the thought."

There were worse things than living his life in darkness. And Astarion was counting becoming a mind flayer in the top three.

He watched, participated even in everyone's final goodbyes, always eyeing you at of the corner of his eye. It's not that he thought you would leave after you both declared your eternal love for each other, but... the two of you hadn't exactly talked about the specifics of the future either.

But that didn't stop you from leaving together. Astarion hadn't expected you to keep the dark cloud above his head as you walked the streets, startling nearly every passerby. But hells, the heroes of Baldur's gate had earned the right to a little strangeness.

You both had decided on going to the nearest, most windowless inn that you could find. Astarion wanted nothing more than to scrub the brain viscera from his skin and sleep for three days. Preferably with you in his arms.

But before all that... he had to know something.

The question was out of him as soon as you both were behind closed doors, "So what happens next to the great hero of Baldur's Gate? I'm sure you have something in mind."

He was just praying those future plans still involved him.

You blinked at him, head cocked like he was asking a silly question, "We go and find you a cure so you can walk in the sun again of course. What else would we do?"

That took Astarion aback, "I-Do you think that's really possible?"

"Well," You started, counting off on your fingers, "We know that illithid powers can do it. As well as devil contacts and ritualistic demon sacrifices. If that's all possible then that means there has to be something else on the other end of the spectrum, right?"

Astarion didn't exactly share your blind confidence. But you did have a point. The two of you had managed so many impossible feats in such a short amount of time. What was one more?

"I suppose there's a chance," Astarion said, hope fluttering in his chest with every word, "And if there is a chance no matter how small, I'm going to take it. But..."

He didn't want to ask, but he needed to know, "Are you sure this is what you want? I would... understand if you wanted to go your own way."

In all honesty, Astarion would not understand. He'd be absolutely furious. Especially after everything you'd been through. This was more of a confirmation for his waning self-confidence than anything else, versus a sincere to desire to let you go your own way. He had no intention of letting you go, not if he could help it.

But his near certainty in your feelings was the only thing that gave him the confidence to ask the question in the first place. And you did not disappoint.

"No, this is what I want," You insisted, reaching out to take his hand in yours, "You're what I want."

That was exactly what Astarion needed to hear. He used your joined hands to tug you closer, face to face.

"Good, because as selfless as I am, I really did not want to let you go," Astarion smiled, leaning in to lightly press a kiss to your lips, "I hope you realize that my love has made me a tad bit obsessed with you my dear."

"I'm sure it's no worse than me," You sighed, resting your forehead against his own, "You've really ruined me for anyone else haven't you?"

Astarion grinned, leaning in for another kiss. He had every intention of making it stay that way, for as long as you would have him.

[steddieas-shegoes]

From @plasticcrotches. Thank you!

➿➰➿➰➿➰➿➰➿➰➿➰

It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have affected him like this.

But the lights going out unexpectedly after flickering for nearly a full minute sent him into a dark spiral.

He could vaguely hear the kids talking, probably coming up with a plan to get out.

Robin’s safe, at least. She’s with her parents out of state. She’ll never have to go through this again if Steve can help it.

He should listen to the plan, figure out how he can use his body to protect the kids, get them all out of here.

“Steve?”

Steve turned to see Eddie frowning at him, coming closer.

“We’ve gotta get you out of here,” Steve stood, looking around for a weapon, any weapon.

It was too dark.

“Stevie, it’s okay.” Eddie’s hand gripped his arm, warm when everything else felt so cold. “Just sit down. Lucas and Dustin already went to check.”

“Alone?!” Steve tried to pull away, but Eddie’s grip tightened.

“They’re alright. We’re safe.”

“No we aren’t! What if something’s out there?” Steve finally pulled his arm loose, looking back at Eddie. His eyes were adjusting in the dark and he could see the concern on his face.

“Steve, where do you think you are?” Eddie asked, stepping in closer, hand gently cupping his cheek.

Steve looked around. It was difficult to see much, but he could see the shapes of the kids sprawled across a couch. His couch. In his living room.

His body relaxed slightly as he recognized more of his house around him. Not the Upside Down version, the real one.

“Sorry,” he said as Eddie leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching Steve’s.

“Why are you sorry?”

Eddie’s breath was warm against his face, sending a shiver down Steve’s back.

“Feel stupid. Thought we were back there for a minute,” Steve whispered. He didn’t want the kids overhearing. They had enough to worry about.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“No,” Steve could only think of one other time and Robin had been there to bring him back. “I’m okay. I should go check on Lucas and Dustin. They’ll probably break something.”

“Wait,” Eddie’s other hand gripped Steve’s hip. “We’re okay, Stevie. I’m safe because you got me safe. You protected me then and I know you would if you had to again. You know that, right?”

Steve felt his heart stop momentarily in his chest. Eddie usually kept a distance between them, maybe scared to get close to Steve after everything. Steve had sat by his side in the hospital every day until he woke up and Wayne could be brought in to see him.

But since then, they’d become friends. Just…they didn’t get physically close. Steve didn’t know why.

He wanted to touch Eddie, wanted to lean his head on his shoulder during movies or rub his back when he decided to stand in the kitchen and watch the kids take over Hellfire.

He wanted to play with his hair and kiss him.

He wanted.

But he couldn’t.

“I wish I could’ve protected you better,” Steve admitted, voice breaking. “I should’ve been with you.”

“You can’t be in two places at once. I did a stupid, unpredictable thing. It’s not your fault.”

“But I could’ve stopped you,” Steve argued.

He could see the kids leaving the room out of the corner of his eye, probably going to check on what Dustin and Lucas were doing.

“I wouldn’t have let you,” Eddie argued back. “I can be just as stubborn as you.”

Eddie was still touching his hip and his face.

His eyes were wide as he searched Steve’s.

“It’s over, right?” Steve asked.

“It’s over,” Eddie reassured.

“We’re safe.”

“We are safe.”

Steve should do it, he should kiss him. They’re alone and Eddie’s giving signals that he’s never given before. Or maybe he has and Steve just didn’t realize it.

Actually, he definitely has.

Steve leaned in the few inches he needed to brush his lips against Eddie’s.

He expected Eddie to pull away quickly, to stop touching him.

Instead, he let his hand drift to the back of Steve’s head and pull him in closer, nipping at his bottom lip playfully before kissing him harder.

Steve let out an embarrassing noise as he reached up to grip Eddie’s hips, stabilizing himself as Eddie groaned into his mouth.

“It’s not dark enough for us to not see you, ya know,” Mike snarked from the doorway.

Steve pulled away, ready to come up with an excuse, but Eddie wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into his side.

“Shut up, Mike. You can handle two people kissing.”

“Not when it’s you two.”

“Oh, are you homophobic?” Eddie smirked, already knowing that wasn’t the problem.

“No! You know I’m not!” Mike was flustered now, clearly looking for a reason to leave. “Just- just go somewhere else!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “This is my house, dude.”

The lights came back on and Steve fully relaxed against Eddie.

Eddie must’ve noticed, kissing the top of his head before all the kids rushed back into the room.

No one else seemed to notice the position they were in, but that was fine.

Steve didn’t wanna hide, and it seemed like Eddie didn’t either. If the kids did notice, they’d be fine.

As long as Eddie was there, he’d be fine.

[moonstruckme]

HI, how are you?:))) so, I don't know if you are receiving orders :/ sorry if that's the case and I'm bothering you!

mas eu gostaria de pedir um leitor James Potter×Hufflepuff!, por favor ♡

where she is seductive but in a discreet way? She pretends to be stupid and innocent but in reality she is a pit of hell

I'm sorry if it's vague or there's something wrong, I'm from Brazil and I don't trust myself and I used google translate :)))

Hi, I'm good! You've got nothing to apologize for my love, thank you for requesting <3

cw: pre-smut? idk there's a mention of a hard dick

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 463 words

“Hiya, sweetheart!” James calls happily as you flounce up to the marauders in the library. 

“Hey, Jamie.” You bypass the chair he pulls out for you, going straight to his lap. “How’d your potions exam go?” 

“Good, I think.” His hands land automatically on your hips, and he inhales softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek, smelling the perfume you’d put on before coming to meet him. 

“Yeah?” You coat your voice in honey. “Did our studying last night help?” 

James stiffens behind you. You make your eyes big and innocent in the way you know how, and Sirius and Remus are none the wiser, both bent over their charms books in preparation for the exam tomorrow. 

“Yeah, angel,” he says, voice soft but amused. “Our study sessions always make me feel good.” 

You bite your lip. “I’ll bet,” you reply lightly, shifting on his lap in a suggestion of how good your “studying” had made him feel the night before. 

“About exams.” James’ voice gets a bit choked. His grip tightens on your hips, trying to still you. “They make me feel good about my exams.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” you say, all sweetness as you turn your head to peck him on the lips. You give his top lip the lightest nibble, and he jumps. 

His chair squeaks against the floor, making Sirius look up. “Alright, Prongs?” 

“Yeah,” James coughs. 

You lay your head back against his shoulder, looking up at your boyfriend and giving him a view down your shirt in the process. “Are you sure, Jamie? You feeling okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he insists, growing hard beneath you. He gives the fat of your hip a warning squeeze, well aware by now of the mood you’re in. 

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling, but you pass the action off as concerned. “Maybe you’re just tired from your exams,” you suggest. “You’ve been working really hard. Need to take a break?”

James’ laugh sounds almost dizzy. “You know what, I think I am a little tired. Come with me back to my room, angel?” 

You hop up gaily, and Remus rolls his eyes as he flips the page in his charms book. “You could at least try to be subtle,” he says to James. 

James’ tawny skin reddens, but you widen your eyes in a well-practiced look of naive blamelessness. “What do you mean?” 

Remus’ gaze flits to you, softening. “Nothing, love.”

“Begone, you rake.” Sirius waves him away. You take James’ hand, helping him comply as he holds his book low to hide his stiffness. “Some of us are trying to study, and your girlfriend didn’t come to the library to be demoralized.” 

“Neither did I,” James mutters as you lead him off.

[cressidagrey]

The Witching Hour - Chapter 3 - Feyre

Summary: 

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings: 

Seeing the future, mention of nightmares, implied ritual sacrifice?, mentioned stabbing, implied assassination, mention of psychological torture

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

Her sister's honeymoon phase after her mating ceremony seemed to have come to a...stop. Or maybe it had crashed and gone up in flames.

But then the tension between seemingly every member of their family seemed to be rampant. Nesta was pissed off at Cassian, Cassian at Azriel, Azriel at Rhys.

It was like watching a storm cloud roll in and darken the sky - the tension was thick and heavy, oppressive even.

Feyre had tried to talk to Rhys about it, but he dismissed her concerns with a vague response about "stubbornness" and "new bond adjustments."

But Feyre knew something was awry. Nesta and Cassian seemed to be avoiding each other like the plague, exchanging terse words whenever they had to interact.

Azriel was unusually quiet, his eyes scanning the room with a wariness that spoke of some deep-seated worry.

And Rhys...well, he was a mask of composure, his true feelings hidden beneath a veneer of politeness.

So Feyre had pulled out big weapons: taking her sister book shopping. Rhys had Nyx for the day... Elain was uninterested and had holed up to garden... visions were plaguing her again.

And so Feyre found herself leading Nesta through the winding streets of the city, determined to coax her sister out of her shell and get her to talk. But as they walked, Feyre noticed just how out-of-sorts Nesta seemed, her eyes distant and her step almost mechanical.

"Nesta," Feyre began tentatively, her voice breaking the silence between them. "Are you...okay?"

Nesta's eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment an expression of intense pain crossed her face. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone, and Nesta had schooled her features back into a stoic mask.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice cool and measured. "Just a bit tired, that's all."

Feyre saw right through the lie, but she knew pressing would only backfire. She didn't want to push Nesta into shutting her out even more. Instead, she tried a different tactic.

"You've been...different lately," Feyre said softly. "Quiet. Distant. And I know something's been going on with you. Cassian's been the same way."

Nesta stiffened at the mention of her mate, her jaw clenching.

"Cassian...Cassian is a fucking idiot," she bit out.

Feyre's eyes widened at Nesta's response. She had expected tension, but not outright anger. She had seen them fight before, often in a somewhat humorous way, but this...this was different. This anger was deep, steeped in pain.

"What happened?" Feyre asked, her voice gentle.

"What happened?" Nesta repeated, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "What happened? Cassian - that fool of a male - happened. He's...he's impossible to deal with. Stubborn, arrogant, and so damn overprotective it's suffocating."

Feyre could only blink, startled by the venom in Nesta's words. "Overprotective? Isn't that a good thing? He cares about you, Nesta. Wants to keep you safe. That's his job."

"He's trying to protect me from Azriel!"

Feyre was taken aback by this admission. "Azriel? Why on earth...

She paused, her mind trying to process this new information. "What's he trying to protect you from?"

Nesta let out a frustrated huff, her eyes burning with emotion. "Azriel found a solution to my nightmares. Cassian doesn’t like it."

"Found a solution?" Feyre asked, her curiosity piqued."And Cassian didn't like it?"

Nesta let out a bitter bark of laughter. "He didn't just not like it, he downright hates it. And me for agreeing to it."

"And...what is this solution?" Feyre prodded, still trying to grasp the situation.

Nesta's expression hardened even more, her gaze turning cold. "A dreamcatcher spell," she gritted out.

Feyre felt a chill run down her spine. "A dreamcatcher spell?" she repeated.

"Yes, a damn dreamcatcher spell," Nesta hissed, her anger flaring again. "And Cassian refuses to understand that it's helping. He's too blinded by his stupid protective instincts to see that it's actually working."

"But..how is it helping?" Feyre asked, her mind swirling with questions.

Nesta's face softened, a hint of vulnerability showing through. "It's...quiet. It's peaceful. For the first time since the war, I'm not drowning in nightmares and reliving memories every time I close my eyes," she confessed.

Feyre's heart ached at her sister's words. She knew the anguish those nightmares caused, the terror and pain that they brought. To see Nesta finally find some relief from them..it was a miracle. But the divide between her sister and her mate...that was concerning.

"And Cassian...?" Feyre asked tentatively.

Nesta's face contorted into a scowl. "He's being a pigheaded fool, as usual," she grumbled. "He's convinced the spell is doing more harm than good, that it's somehow going to hurt me or control me."

"Did Azriel cast the spell?" Feyre wondered, brows furrowing.

"No," Nesta said, her voice dripping with annoyance, "Cate did it."

"Who's Cate?" Feyre asked, dumbstruck.

"Cate is...a friend of Azriel's," Nesta explained vaguely, her tone becoming guarded.

Feyre frowned, sensing there was more to the story. "A friend? Do I even know her?"

"I don't think you do," Nesta said evasively.

Feyre's suspicion grew. "Then how come you do?"

Nesta let out a heavy sigh, clearly reluctant to answer.

"Azriel brought me to her, for the spell. She's a witch. Cassian hates her for some reason. Apparently, she stabbed him once and he still holds a grudge," she added, her voice hard.

Feyre's eyes widened, her mind reeling at the thought of a witch powerful enough to piss off Cassian. And to know Azriel personally enough for him to take Nesta to her for a spell...

"And this witch...she was able to...?" Feyre trailed off, her question unfinished.

"To make the nightmares stop?" Nesta said, a hint of relief in her voice, "Yes. She did what everyone else failed to do. She gave me a bloody break."

Feyre felt a pang of guilt at that. She too had tried to help, but nothing had worked. And now, this mysterious witch had come in and done what all of Feyre's attempts had failed to do.

But why? She mused, her mind working at a frantic pace. Why would this witch help?

Feyre looked at her sister, taking in the less tense lines of her face, the less haunted look in her eyes. Whatever the reasons, this Cate had clearly helped. Helped in a way none of them could. And for that, Feyre was begrudgingly grateful.

"You don't..." Feyre began cautiously, treading lightly, "You don't think she's doing it for a price, do you?"

Nesta snorted. "I think the price is Azriel's presence in her bed," she said drily. "The two of them have an… arrangement."

Feyre's eyebrows shot up. She had expected many things, but this...this was not exactly among them.

"An arrangement..?" she repeated weakly.

Nesta gave her a sardonic look. "You know, the kind where two people agree to please each other without any strings attached?"

"I know what an arrangement is," Feyre muttered, feeling her cheeks heat up. It had been no difference then what she and Isaac had done. 

It was just… "But...Azriel and a witch. Really?"

Nesta shrugged. "I don't know the details. Apparently, they have a history. All I know is that they have some kind of...open agreement."

Feyre's mind struggled to process this information. Azriel, her normally stoic and reserved friend, involved in a sexual relationship with a witch. And by the sounds of it, a witch that was both powerful and dangerous enough to scare Cassian.

"And…you're okay with this?" Feyre finally asked, her voice tinged with bemusement.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Nesta retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s none of my business who Azriel sleeps with They're both consenting adults. They're not hurting anyone. Why would I care?”

Feyre felt her cheeks redden a little more at her sister's bluntness.

"What about Elain?" Feyre wondered. "I thought her and Azriel..."

"You didn't warn him off?" Nesta asked surprised.

Feyre could just stare at her.

"I thought you or Rhys warned Azriel off her, because of Lucien," Nesta clarified.

"Wait," Feyre's mind was still playing catch-up. "You thought...we warned Azriel off dating Elain because of Lucien?"

Nesta rolled her eyes. "Well, yes. I mean, Lucien is her mate. And a High Lord’s Son. I thought you didn't want the political ramifications of that fallout." 

Feyre had to bite back a scoff. She found it ironic - and mildly annoying - that her sister would assume she would do something like that. 

"No, in case you were wondering," she said, trying to keep her irritation in check. "I did not warn Azriel off." 

Nesta shrugged. "Elain…Elain probably needs to heal on her own before she even wants another male again anyway," Nesta said quietly. "Her visions are...rampant again."

Feyre's heart ached at the mention of Elain. She knew her sister had been struggling silently, suffering in ways Feyre could only imagine.

"That witch doesn't happen to have a solution for that either, doesn't she?" Feyre asked sarcastically. 

"Feyre, you are a genius," Nesta breathed, grasping her arm and dragging her down the street, almost stumbling in shock. 

"What? Where are we going?" Feyre asked, confusion lacing her tone.

"To see Cate," Nesta said, determination in her voice. "We are going to ask her if she can help Elain. Maybe she can... I don't know, do some other kind of spell."

Feyre couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. If this witch could help Nesta, then perhaps she could help Elain

"You're sure this Cate would be willing to help?" Feyre asked, her voice hesitant.

Nesta's eyes flashed with determination. "If she can help Elain...she better be willing. Come on."

Feyre swallowed her trepidation and allowed herself to be pulled along. Elain was suffering, just as Nesta had been. If there was even a chance this witch could help... well, they had to try.

They walked in silence, Nesta leading the way. Feyre felt a mix of anticipation and unease. This Cate was evidently powerful, but the little knowledge she had of her was unsettling. A witch who had stabbed Cassian… But the hope of helping Elain overshadowed her doubts. If this strange, mysterious witch could offer any assistance, she would gladly take it. 

They finally reached their destination. Feyre's breath hitched as she took in the unassuming townhouse. It looked harmless enough, its windows shuttered, but Feyre could feel the power surrounding it, tingling against her skin, almost sentient.

Nesta didn't seem phased, marching up to the door and knocking firmly.

A moment of silence, followed by footsteps approaching the door. Feyre held her breath, bracing herself.

The door opened. A massive black jaguar stared at them,  its golden eyes fixed upon them. It had apparently opened the door. 

Feyre almost let out a scream, a startled gasp escaping her lips. Nesta, unfazed, spoke up, her voice firm. "We're here to see Cate." The jaguar's eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing them. It tilted its head to the side, almost as if in question. And then, as if understanding their words, it let out a deep, rumbling purr.

And with a final glance at them, the jaguar turned, vanishing into the townhouse.

“Thank you, Bella!” Nesta called after it, getting a lazy swipe of its tail in response. 

Feyre found herself staring after the vanished jaguar, her heart still racing from the shock.

Nesta, however, seemed perfectly calm, a small smirk playing on her lips. "That's Bella," she explained. "You'll get used to her...she likes playing with Azriel's shadows." 

Feyre blinked, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that a jaguar was friendly with Azriel's shadows, of all things. Nesta walked into the townhouse and Feyre followed along. 

It seemed empty. Obviously furnished expensively but…no traces of any fae…at least until they reached the living room. 

Of all the things Feyre had expected...it was not a blood-splattered naked female sitting on the floor, a crystal ball before her.

Feyre froze in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.

The female, her skin pale as snow, was clearly in some sort of trance, her long red hair cascading down her bare back. But what caught Feyre's attention was the blood smeared all over her body, stark against her ivory skin.

For one crazed moment, she was reminded of Amarantha.

For just one moment, she was utterly terrified. 

But the red hair seemed to be the only similarity. 

And Amarantha had been ugly compared to this woman... compared to cascading ruby red hair and skin as white as freshly fallen snow...against full, round breast, the dip of her waist and the swell of her hips...she was gorgeous. 

Feyre's mind continued to whirl as she took in the image before her. The female's beauty was breathtaking, almost otherworldly, and yet the blood staining her skin somehow only served to enhance her appearance, adding a dark, almost feral undertone to her loveliness.

Feyre’s fingers itched to paint the scene before her…

Nesta stepped into the room, clearly not fazed by the scene. "Cate?" she called out.

And then suddenly magic sparked from the crystal ball and the female's gaze cleared, from near white to brilliant green. "Ah, Nesta and Feyre." Her voice was soft, melodic, and yet strangely commanding. "I've been waiting for you."

"You knew we were coming?" Feyre asked, finally finding her voice.

"Of course I knew," Cate replied, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I see many things."

Feyre's eyes flicked to the crystal ball in front of the female, a mixture of curiosity and unease in her gut. "You..see the future?" she asked. Was she a Seer like Elain?

Cate regarded her with a considering glance. "I see fragments. Possibilities. Many of them. How decisions impact them…and how it could be…" she said that with a near longing glance to her crystal ball, gently running a hand over it.

Feyre couldn't help but feel a tiny shiver run down her spine. The idea of fate in the hands of someone else...But this was not the reason they were here. She gathered her courage and spoke up. "We're here because..."

"You're here for Elain, aren't you?" Cate finished, her tone almost knowing.

"She's a seer like you," Nesta said but Cate hummed consideringly, making no move to cover herself...or wipe off the blood...wherever that had come from. 

Only now Feyre realised that it was smeared over her, not just splattered. Like the symbols drawn on her body, covering her, meant something…Feyre just didn’t know what. 

Feyre swallowed, trying to not let the naked female's lack of modesty distract her. "We were wondering if you could...help her." 

"Help her how?" Cate asked, tilting her head.

"She's been having...visions," Feyre admitted, her voice strained. "Unpleasant visions. And they've been…..affecting her."

Cate regarded them with an appraising glance. "Affecting her, how?"

"Nightmares, mostly," Nesta answered, a sharp note entering her voice. "She's been…..not coping well."

Cate's expression didn't change. "Is that all?"

Nesta bristled and Feyre had to place a hand on her arm to restrain her.

"What do you mean, 'is that all'?" Feyre asked, attempting a more reasonable tone.

Cate just shrugged, her eyes flickering to the crystal ball again. "Nightmares are not an issue. I can make them go away with a mere flick of my wrist."

Feyre felt a rush of relief. That was more than she had expected. "You can?"

Cate fixed her gaze on Feyre once more, a hint of challenge in her face. "| can. But as a Seer myself, the nightmares are not the problem."

Feyre's heart sank. "Then what is?" she asked quietly, dreading the answer.

Cate let out a sigh. "It's her visions," she said bluntly. "Powerful, uncontrolled visions. The kind that comes without warning and at the most inconvenient times...." Cate looked at her, a hint of pity in her gaze. "Elaine's power is trying to break through. And my best guess is that she's subconsciously resisting, refusing to let it out. She's untrained. It's not surprising.”

It was the last thing she wanted to hear. Elain and Nesta had gone through enough. They had all gone through enough. 

Didn’t they deserve something that was…

Finally, Feyre spoke up again, her voice small. "You said you could make the nightmares go away. Can you...do the same for the visions?" she asked, her voice pleading.

"No," Cate said evenly. Feyre's heart sank once more. "How would you like it if I amputated your sword hand without a reason? The visions aren't the problem. Her lack of training is."

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch at that metaphor. "So you're saying...there's nothing we can do?" Feyre asked shakingly. Elain was just supposed to live like this?!

Cate sighed again as if she had been expecting this."What I'm saying is, is that you can't give Elaine a potion and make the problem go away. It's not a disease, it's her power trying to express itself. And it will only persist until she learns how to control it,” she explained. 

Power trying to express itself. Elain would have to learn to control it...but how?! 

"How would she learn?" Feyre asked, desperation colouring her words.

"She needs a teacher," Cate said, her gaze flickering to the blood staining her skin. "Someone who can guide her."

For a moment, Feyre wanted to ask about the blood. But she pushed it aside, focusing on the more pressing matter.

"And who would be that teacher?"

"You have a few options," Cate responded, her tone nonchalant. "I can teach her. Or I can find someone else who can…that will probably take a year or two…there aren’t that many of us," Cate admitted drily. 

Feyre's breath caught in her throat. This woman, the blood staining her skin, her blatant disregard for nudity... she was powerful and dangerous, that much was obvious. 

But a year or two?! Elain should just live like this for another year or two?!

But then, for a female that was immortal and was probably…centuries old if not more, then what was a year or two? Nothing. 

Was it wise to allow Elain to be taught by someone like her though? Somebody that Cassian clearly didn’t trust?

Azriel and she seemed to have some form of agreement, but Feyre was weakly wondering if…Azriel was kept safe from her wrath because he was warming her bed. 

Feyre glanced over at Nesta, silently seeking her opinion.

Her sister's eyes were guarded but there was an undercurrent of trust in them.

"You..you would teach her?" Nesta said carefully. 

"I could,” Cate agreed with a careless shrug. “But I highly doubt that your mate would allow that, High Lady."

Feyre's heart jumped in her chest, dread filling her at the mere mention of Rhys. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

"Rhysand wouldn't want me anywhere near your sister," Cate said with a grin. "'I am quite sure he would rip my heart out of my chest for even suggesting this."

She swallowed. 

Rhys was probably not gonna take the fact well that they had met her without telling him a word. But then he hadn't told her about the dangers of the pregnancy so feyre figured that he owed her one. 

"How do you know Rhysand?" she demanded instead. Did Rhys also hate her just like Cassian seemed to?

"Your mate and I have had...past interactions," Cate said carefully, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Let's just say he doesn't approve of my methods, which are...a touch different from his."

Feyre felt a pang of curiosity, mixed with a hint of dread. Rhys was a male with many secrets, and here was this female, sitting there casually and talking about them.

"And what exactly are these…methods?" Feyre asked, her voice guarded

"Oh, you know, things like manipulating dreams, altering memories, and the occasional bit of psychological torture," Cate replied casually as if discussing the weather. Feyre's blood ran cold. Psychological torture? 

"What do you mean, 'psychological torture'?" Feyre asked, her voice a mere whisper.

Cate just shrugged, her expression unbothered. "Oh, nothing much. Just making someone relive their worst nightmares over and over again, twisting someone's thoughts and desires until they're barely recognizable, playing with people's fears and insecurities..."

Feyre felt bile rise in her throat. Cate's words were so nonchalant as if she found discussing such acts normal. But it was horrifying, the thought of someone playing with their thoughts like that, twisting them like pieces of clay. Her mind immediately went to Rhys, as it always did.

Hadn't her mate been forced to do the same?

"I am also of the stab first, ask questions later, school of thought,” Cate tacked onto the end. 

Nesta snorted. "Is that what happened to Cassian?"

Cate let out a laugh at the comment. "Pretty much, yes. Your mate has a tendency to barge into other people's territories uninvited. I merely reminded him that it's generally a bad idea," she said easily. 

Feyre felt a small shiver run down her spine, realising how close to death her brother-in-law could have been. But there was also something nagging at her mind, some sort of confusion.

 Rhys didn't trust this female, that much was obvious. But Cate seemed to know Rhys well, had clearly encountered him before...and she wasn't in the least bit afraid of him...

"Why does Rhys have such a problem with you?" Feyre found herself asking, her voice almost reluctant.

"Ah, Rhysand is just like every other high lord," Cate said, her tone almost mocking. "He doesn't like people who don't fit into his neat, little worldview. I'm considered a 'wild card', something to be wary of. I'm not afraid to challenge him or do what l feel is necessary to get results. And I don't follow the traditional rules laid out by high lords and their courts."

Feyre found herself taken aback by the female's words.

Rhys, as arrogant and over-protective as he could be, was usually so tolerant of others, welcoming them to Velaris without a doubt. The fact that he had such an obvious grievance against this female was unexpected.

"What kind of results?" Feyre couldn't help but ask, morbidly curious.

Cate sighed. “With power like mine comes responsibility,” Cate replied, a sly smile playing on her lips. She was sidestepping the question, Feyre realised. "Or dealing with troublemakers and threats, like a certain Night Court general who decided to invade my home."

Feyre felt her heart skip a beat. Cassian had..invaded her territory?

"You stabbed him, didn't you?" Nesta chimed in, her voice almost bored.

Cate let out a bark of laughter. "Of course I stabbed him. He invaded my home. Did you expect me to offer him tea and biscuits?"

Feyre felt a mix of horror and fascination at the nonchalance in Cate's voice. Yes, Cassian had invaded her land, but the idea of someone casually and unapologetically stabbing another...And Rhys' vehement dislike of the female made a little more sense now.

"Have you..." Feyre began, her voice hesitant. "Have you...harmed anyone else from the Night Court?"

Cate's eyes glittered with a touch of mischief. "Oh, let's see. I've stabbed Cassian, threatened Mor with bodily harm, beat your mate into the dirt once and had a lovely chat with Azriel once or twice," she said, ticking each incident off on her fingers. "Does that answer your question?"

"Is that what you call what you and Azriel are doing?" Nesta asked drily.

Cate let out a bark of laughter, clearly amused by the question. "Oh, my encounters with Azriel are...complicated," she said, a sly smile playing on her lips. "We have a bit of a...history."

"What kind of history?" Feyre found herself asking, unable to quell her curiosity. Cate's smile widened, her eyes taking on a calculating gleam. "Oh, you wouldn't believe what Azriel and I have done together," she almost purred, her tone dropping to a suggestive purr.

Feyre felt a wave of heat rush through her. She had an idea of what the female was implying, but somehow she had a hard time imagining Azriel with someone so... unrestrained, as Cate seemed to be. Then again, what did she really know of her mate's shadowsinger?

"Is it something I want to know about?" Nesta drawled, her tone dry.

Cate raised her eyebrows, a slow smile spreading on her lips. "Oh, I'm sure you'd be absolutely scandalised if I told you what I do to your dear Azriel."

Feyre felt heat spreading to her cheeks, the mental imagery of Cate and Azriel together doing...anything...was stirring something deep within her. But she forcibly pushed the thought away, focusing on the matter at hand.

"We're getting off track," Feyre said firmly, her voice a bit more high-pitched than usual.

Cate arched an eyebrow, clearly recognising her discomposure. "Are you sure? I could tell you more about the things your shadowsinger and I get up to..."

Feyre could hear Nesta suppress a snort, clearly amused by her apparent discomfort. But she ignored her sister, fixing Cate with her most stern glare. "We're not here to discuss your. relationship with Azriel," she said, her voice a touch shaky.

"Suit yourself," Cate said with a shrug. "Although, I must say, Azriel is quite... adventurous, when given the proper motivation."

Feyre felt her cheeks heat up even further, and Nesta let out a snicker, clearly struggling to hold back laughter.

"Can we get back to the matter at hand?" Feyre snapped, her irritation growing by the second.

Cate chuckled, her smile widening. "Of course, High Lady. You were wanting to discuss the issue of your sister and her pesky visions, weren't you?"

Feyre took a deep breath, trying to calm the heat in her cheeks. "Yes," she said, her voice still a bit flustered. "How about you...come to lunch later this week?" 

Cate's smile turned cat-like, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Lunch, hm? That could be arranged."

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "And we can...expect you to have more clothes on by then, I presume?"

Cate let out a bark of laughter. "Are you saying you don't appreciate the view?" she asked, gesturing to her unclothed body.

"I think I'll appreciate some food in my stomach more than your…assets," Nesta replied with a smirk.

Cate chuckled, clearly unbothered by the comment. "Fair enough. I'll bring a dress if that will soothe your delicate sensibilities."

Feyre almost snorted at the implication of 'delicate sensibilities ...Nesta was anything but delicate. 

And Feyre was quite sure she was going to regret this lunch.

[vbecker10]

Language (Part 6 - Final)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Captain Rogers thinks you curse far too much at work so he came up with a way for each word to cost you fifty cents no matter where you are in the Tower. You are desperate for it to stop and go to Loki to see if he has a spell or trick that can help you outsmart J.A.R.V.I.S.

Warnings: swearing lol... obviously?

A/N: Thank you everyone who read this series! I'm sorry this last part took me so long to get to but I hope you all love it!! 💚💚 I'll be working on finishing the Night Nurse now then going back through my requests! 🙂

You watch anxiously when Thor pulls away from his younger brother. "Remove the spell from Y/N," the God of Thunder demands.

"To do that I will need the vial," Loki counters and takes another step forward, closing the distance between them. Loki reaches for it but Thor pulls his hand away, holding it just out of reach.

If you weren't so concerned about the safety of the vial, you might be able to appreciate how much they simply look like bickering brothers and not two Gods arguing over your voice.

Tony steps in, "Thor, give it back to the sea witch."

Loki glares at Tony, "I do not have the patience for you today tin man."

He looks back at Thor and without a word, he flicks his wrist, sending his seidr towards his brother. The green cloud surrounds his hand in an attempt to pull the vial free but Thor clenches his hand and pulls violently against Loki's magic.

"Stop!" Natasha yells.

Your eyes go wide and you cover your mouth with both hands as the vial slips free from Thor's grasp. Loki's seidr doesn't react fast enough and the small glass vial falls to the floor at the older Asgardian's feet, shattering into pieces.

You lower your hands slowly, watching the cloud of gray smoke quickly evaporate into nothing before you can even think to move. Your hand runs slowly up and down your throat, vaguely listening to the reactions of the team around you.

"Y/N... I did not think... I am so sorry-" Thor tries to apologize but you don't look at him.

"No... this was not supposed to happen," Loki runs his fingers through his hair, his expression full of guilt and concern but in an instant he becomes angry. "Thor! I told you not to touch the vial, why do you never listen to me? Look what you have done!"

"What I have done?" Thor asks, taking a step towards his younger brother. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't been so reckless with your magic."

Your attention finally shifts from the broken glass to the two Gods. Walking between the brothers, you interrupt their argument. You point angrily at Thor and ask, "Why the fuck couldn't you just listen to Loki, for once!? All you had to do was not touch the damn thing and you fucking broke it!" Your mouth moves quickly and you breathe harder but you don't make a sound. You turn to look at Loki and slowly mouth, "I never should have trusted you. I knew you were fucking useless."

Loki lowers his head, putting his hands behind his back to fidget with them while Thor rubs his beard, trying to think of something to say to you.

"Y/N, don't worry," Natasha says, keeping her voice calm and level as she pulls you into a supportive hug. Over your shoulder she glares at the trickster, "Loki is going to fix this."

"Damn right he is," Tony agrees angrily. "How the hell could you have screwed up this badly?"

"I do not see why all of the blame is being put on me," Loki takes a small step away from the team. "Thor is the careless oaf that dropped the vial after I specifically instructed him not to touch it."

"I was just trying to help Y/N," Thor defends his actions.

"As was I," Loki argues back.

"By stealing her voice?" Clint asks.

"I will remind you one final time, I did not steal anything," Loki clarifies. "How was I to know someone," he glares at Thor, "Would be foolish enough to disregard my very direct warning and break the vial?"

"What was the plan then?" Bruce asks as everyone gathers closer.

"It was supposed to be a simple trick. We thought once you saw the lengths Y/N went through to avoid swearing, Captain Rogers would turn off that ridiculous computer program to appease her," Loki explains and you nod along as he speaks, confirming that was the plan. "As soon as it was off, I was going to return her voice."

Loki turns to face you, "I am truly sorry Y/N. I never meant for this to happen-"

Steve interrupts Loki's apology, "I can't believe you trusted him to do this Y/N, you know how unreliable he is. Who's to say he would have given you your voice back even if this didn't all go to sideways?"

"Whatever other sea witches do when they steal voices," Bruce mumbles.

"Of course I would have honored our agreement. What would I do with Y/N's voice?" Loki asks.

"I am not a sea witch," Loki reminds them all angrily. "I am a god you pathetic mortal," he looks directly at Bruce who takes a step behind Clint.

"So if you weren't going for the shittiest impression of Ursula possible, why the hell would you take her voice if you knew it could be lost so fucking easily?" Tony swears at Loki.

Before Loki can answer, J.A.R.V.I.S activates three times in close secession. Each time it says, "Tony, fifty cents has been deducted from your upcoming paycheck as you are in violation of SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy, per Captain Rogers' orders."

"Oh, shit," Clint says and J.A.R.V.I.S charges him a second time. "Steve your little project is going rogue."

"What the hell was that?" Clint asks, looking at the holographic display.

"Clint, fifty cents has been deducted from your upcoming paycheck as you are in violation of SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy, per Captain Rogers' orders," J.A.R.V.I.S. announces.

Steve ignores the computer and Clint, grabbing Loki by the collar with one hand, "You will help Y/N and you will do it now. Is that understood?" You look quickly between Steve and Loki, biting your lip nervously.

"I may have a spell that can restore her voice," Loki pulls himself free from Steve and straightens his clothing. "But I cannot think with all of you swearing at me and threatening me."

"I haven't started threatening you," Tony says.

"Maybe you'll think faster if the hulk was around," Bruce adds, finding his confidence once more.

"That is not necessary," Loki says, his expression switching from annoyance to nervousness at the mention of the hulk.

"Then you better start fucking thinking," Tony says.

J.A.R.V.I.S activates, charging Tony again.

"If you wish for me to think here, I must insist you silence that useless program," Loki waves his hand at the holographic display.

"Steve, seriously shut that damn thing off," Tony says to the captain as J.A.R.V.I.S repeats the announcement.

Steve groans, "Fine. J.A.R.V.I.S, disregard SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy."

J.A.R.V.I.S confirms the order from Steve.

"Are you happy now?" Steve asks Loki, his arms folded across his chest.

Loki asks, "It has been turned off for everyone?"

"Yes," Steve nods.

"Even Y/N?" Loki looks over at you.

"Yes, not that it matters unless you can figure out how to get her to talk again," Steve answers.

A smirk creeps across Loki's lips and you take a step towards him. "I can't believe that worked," you tell him.

"I told you it would work," Loki responds proudly.

(This morning)

"Ah brother, what a pleasant surprise," Loki smiles when he opens the door to a very confused looking Thor.

"Um... it is?" Thor asks, immediately feeling concerned by the God of Mischief's greeting.

"Of course," he opens the door wider and gestures inside the apartment. "Won't you join Y/N and me for a moment?"

"Okay..." Thor shrugs as he enters Loki's apartment. "Wait, Y/N is still here?"

"Morning Thor," you wave at him from the couch. He looks from you back to his brother and you don't miss the smirk of approval he gives Loki. You push aside the awkward feeling that Thor assumes you've slept with his brother and ask him to sit.

"I would prefer to stand, if you don't mind," Thor refuses your suggestion politely. "I sense my brother is playing some game with me and I am not willing to relax quite yet."

Loki smirks, "You are finally becoming more perceptive, but you are not the intended victim this time."

"I'm not?" Thor asks, his shock obvious in both his voice and his expression.

You try not to laugh, knowing he probably walked in here expecting the worst. "We need your help to pull off our plan actually," you tell him.

"I would love to help you, Y/N," he replies then he looks at Loki, "But I am not sure I want to help him."

"That hurts brother," Loki's smirk doesn't fade. "Would it change your mind if we offered a trade for your assistance?"

"I'm listening," Thor answers cautiously.

"I know where your wallet is," you tell Thor.

"I believe you have something of mine," Thor holds his hand out towards his younger brother. Loki nods and with a flick of his wrist, the missing wallet appears in a flash of green in Thor's open palm. The older Asgardian frowns, "Where is my money?"

"The deal was for me to return your wallet," Loki grins. "Which I have. You did not specify that you wished to have your money returned as well."

"I assumed that would have been obvious," Thor groans and tucks his empty wallet safely away.

"Wait... so the three of you planned this whole thing just to get Y/N out of being charged for swearing?" Steve asks, placing his hands on his hips in annoyance.

"Midgardians have a saying about making assumptions, I believe," Loki says and you roll your eyes at him. He chuckles and adds, "Consider it a charitable contribution to Y/N's swearing fund."

"Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me," Tony says, throwing his hands in the air.

"I only wanted my property returned to me," Thor insists, holding his hands up and taking a step away from you and Loki to avoid any blame.

"And what's your excuse, Laufeyson?" Steve turns his attention to the God of Mischief.

"Do I need one?" Loki doesn't seem phased by Steve and Tony's disapproving looks.

"You know you are not permitted to use your magic on any member of SHIELD or Stark Industries," the captain reminds him of the rules. "This was reckless and-"

"He was just trying to help me out," you cut off Steve and offer a defense for Loki which only brings everyone's focus back to you.

"By using his magic to trick us into overriding a SHIELD policy?" Steve asks you.

"Yeah..." you fidget with your fingers nervously. Loki might have been prepared to face the wrath of the team as calmly as ever but you hadn't thought this part of the plan all the way through. You had been focused on having the swearing policy reversed and not much else.

"Y/N," Tony says your name and you can hear the disappointment in his tone. He folds his arms across his chest. You recognize his expression, it means he is getting ready to deliver a long speech about how he expects better from you.

"I... well..." you stumble over your words then makes eye contact with Loki for a brief moment. He looks towards the door and back at you, signaling that it is time to go. "Well, this was a lot of fun but I've got shit to do... somewhere else."

You barely register that J.A.R.V.I.S is still quiet as the two of you quickly move towards the exit. Loki pushes open the door, ignoring Steve and Tony telling you they are not done with either of you yet. He laughs when the sound of their voices is cut off by the door closing and walks with you towards the elevators.

"You played your part excellently," he complements you, pushing the call button. "You are a natural trickster."

"Thanks," you feel yourself blush and look down, hoping he doesn't notice your red cheeks. "You and Thor were pretty good too."

"My brother has his uses," he says. "But do not tell him I said so," he adds quickly, looking at you.

"Oooh, I'm definitely gonna tell him," you laugh.

"Turning you into a frog is still on the table," he says with a wicked grin.

"I think you would hate that more than I would," you smile back and he furrows his brows in confusion. "I'd just hop along after you all day and sit on your pillow, ribbiting in your ear while you tried to sleep. You would turn me into a human again in no time," you snap your fingers.

He laughs at your response and shakes his head, "It seems I need to find a new way to threaten you, hmm?"

"Yeah... or you could just be nicer to me," you shrug.

"I'll think about it," he smirks.

"Don't try to act like I'm not your best friend after last night," you say sarcastically.

The doors to the elevator finally open. You step inside first and select the floor your office is on. Loki doesn't move to select the floor his office, apartment or training room are on and you realize he is following you.

"That reminds me... your question from earlier this morning," he says when the doors close. You turn to face him, remembering when you asked if you were friends now or something you hadn't defined yet. "I do not wish to be your friend," he informs you and you look at your shoes before you have a chance to read his expression.

"Oh... Okay, yeah, that's fine," you feel your heart sink in your chest. You knew you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up that Loki would still want to be around you. He had done what he promised and aggravated the whole team in the process, that was good enough for him.

"I would very much like to take you on a date though," he says and you look up, seeing him smile at you.

"Wait, really?" you ask, sounding more surprised than excited.

He clears his throat, looking unsure of himself and asks, "Would that be something you are interested in?"

You smile and nod, his smile returning quickly, "Yeah, absolutely." You laugh when he relaxes and add, "But we need to work on how you phrase stuff cause it sounded like you were tired of being around me, not that you were going to ask me on a fucking-"

"Y/N, seventy five cents has been deducted from your upcoming paycheck as you are in violation of SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy, per Captain Rogers' orders," J.A.R.V.I.S. announces from a speaker in the elevator.

You look at the holographic screen that appears in stunned silence, the rest of your sentence lost. Loki chuckles and says, "It seems they not only reinstated your punishment but raised the rate per word."

"I can't believe this..." you shake your head in disbelief. "Ugh! This is fucking-" you feel a rant of swear words getting ready to be unleashed.

Loki's arm wraps around your waist and he pulls your chest flush to his, the swift action shocking you into silence. He smiles at you, cupping your cheek gently, still holding you close with his other hand on your waist. "I have thought of one more trick to help you," he says, his lips coming closer to yours.

You giggle nervously, "If you say anything about frogs..."

He laughs and shakes his head then clears his throat. "J.A.R.V.I.S, disregard SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy," Loki repeats Steve's order in the captain's voice and J.A.R.V.I.S confirms the command. In his own voice he says, "I am not sure how long it will take them to notice so you might want to get in all the swear words you can now."

"I knew you liked me," you smile up at him, his arm still holding you close to his chest.

"I tried very hard not to," he says, his fingers running gently down your cheek to your chin. He tilts your head slightly up and brings his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You grip the fabric on the back of his shirt when he takes a step forward, pressing your back to the wall of the elevator.

The elevator stops much too soon and Loki smiles down at you when he breaks the kiss. As the doors open, you sigh and rest your head on Loki's chest, "I can't wait until Steve and Tony find me."

"Tell them to come speak to me," Loki runs his fingers through your hair.

You laugh, looking up at him, "Why, so you can turn them into frogs?"

"Would it make you feel better?" he asks as you walk out of the elevator together.

"A little," you tell him with a shrug and he grins mischievously.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[rhys-writes-some-shit]

"Sing to Me?"

Alastor x Reader (QP)

Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.

Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.

Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.

The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.

The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.

You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.

A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.

“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”

“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.

Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”

“I'm glad.”

He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.

“Al? You okay?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”

“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”

You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”

Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”

“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”

“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”

Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.

“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.

“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”

Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.

“Sing to me?”

Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.

When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.

“Parlez-moi d’amour.”

Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.

“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”

Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.

“Votre beau discours /

“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /

“Pourvu que toujours /

“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /

“Je vous aime.”

((The song))

[imgae-insertshockedgasps-16]

okay i've seen a few Just Some Guy!danny aus and they've consumed my brain so here you go, it's under the cut, you're welcome and thank you (ps it also combines part of a prompty type thing i saw the other day, props if you know it)

Danny was not entirely sure how he got here.

He was just walking along, bopping to some great interdimensional tunes, eating his tuna fish sandwich - with ectoplasm and pickles, of course - when KABLOW there's this big ole tightie-whities-on-the-outside wearing guy.

Now, Danny's not great at keeping up with the times, but he's pretty sure this is that Superman dude.

Said SuperDude was staring at his headphones and making vague "hey take them out pls so can converse" gestures, so naturally Danny pops the Interdimensional Walkman out of his chest to pause his wicked music, and then puts the whole kit and kaboodle back behind his rib cage.

"What's up? Did you need help or something? I mean, I'm pretty solidly retired but I guess if it's super important I can-"

SuperGuy abruptly stopped staring and started speaking, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

Ohhhhh, Danny totally gets it now.

"Oh, dude, I gotchu. You want me to hook you up, right? Don't even worry about it, I know a guy who'll give you one a these babies for free! You're Kryptonian, right? Yeah, I totally get it, you wanna listen to some music from your home planet, no problemo my newly-minted friend, give me, like, ten seconds-"

And so Danny tore open a neat little portal and stuck his head through it, asking Technus to pretty please give him another Interdimensional Walkman, no he didn't even break this one-! He ran into a Kryptonian who heard him rockin out and wanted to know where he got the beats, and he'd told them that he could hook them up! C'mon Technus, you can't let them down! They're all lonely! They want to learn about their culture!

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

Clark has no idea what's happening.

He had been searching for this ear-splitting, headache-inducing noise, and had come across a guy dancing down the sidewalk.

Not unusual, right?

Except that the terrible noise was coming from this man's - kid's?? He can't quite tell how old he is - headphones!

Of course, he didn't want to be rude, so he politely gestured for the man to remove the headphones. The man then proceeded to reach into his chest and pull out some kind of - Walkman?? Do people still use Walkmans?

Clark was naturally concerned, so he activated a spot of x-ray vision, just to see what's going on in there, and was promptly horrified.

This man was using his chest cavity as a storage compartment!

Two wallets, a key ring, a lunch box, some sort of odd thermos, bits and bobs of random parts and tools were all tangled around - and occasionally in - this guy's organs!

Suddenly, Clark realized that he'd been staring for a while, and the man was now talking. Something about coming out of retirement to help, oh dear, Ma would knock him around the head if he kept being so rude, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

And now he was speaking rapidly, something about music from Krypton? Clark's pretty sure that not a whole lot survived the explosion, and he'd be pretty surprised if this guy just happened to have-

A vaguely Lazarus colored portal??

What in the world-

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

"Thanks Technus! You're the best! I owe you one non evil scheme related favour!"

Danny zips up the portal and turns around, fiddling with the tapes and Walkman in his hands as he goes.

"Here you go! I wasn't entirely sure what genre you'd want, I don't really listen to a whole lot of Kryptonian stuff to be honest, it's usually too heavy on the vocal for me- not that vocals aren't great! But I want a whole band experience, yaknow? I'm not really looking for individual singers. Anyway, I just had him go for a couple songs of each major genre, but if you want something different you can totally-"

"Wait, hold on, you're telling me that there's Kryptonian music on those tapes? Playable by that Walkman?"

"Uh, well, yeah. Isn't that why you tracked me down? And, technically, I mean, they're ectoplasmic tapes and an Interdimensional Walkman, so. Hey, did you know that kryptonite is actually super-condensed ectoplasm? And since it's filled with the anguish and suffering and fear and whatnot of your entire home planet dying, it only negatively affects your species! Pretty cool right? Oh, shit, was that insensitive, I really didn't mean to be, I just thought that maybe you'd want to- ACK!"

Danny was not expecting SuperMuscles to get so close. He thrust out the IW and tapes and dropped them into SuperFellow's hands, "Listen, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at a o-chem study group right now and they're totally gonna be pissed. Hit me up if you want a different tape."

And the proceeded to run in the opposite direction, duck into an alley and turn invisible, and fly over to the cafe his study group was in.

"Listen, I know I'm late but you'll never believe why-"

[adverbally]

Don’t Get Me Wrong

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt “make-up sex” | wc: 1,258 | rated: M | cw: sexual content | tags: misunderstanding, handjobs, sexy biting, the conflict and making up is pretty one-sided because I don’t like when they fight for real | title from the song by The Pretenders

———

Steve’s day is a blur of anxiety and guilt. This is why he hates going to bed angry— it always takes too long to resolve and makes him a nervous wreck in the meantime. Luckily, second graders aren’t perceptive enough to notice the way Steve paces the room while they work on their art projects.

The previous day’s migraine still lingers, leaving Steve with a vaguely hungover feeling and requiring him to wear his glasses, much to the kids’ delight. He has to wonder how much of his fatigue is due to the postdrome and how much is from sleeping so poorly without Eddie beside him. Eddie not only slept in the guest room but left before Steve woke up this morning, both of which are bad signs. Either he was up all night obsessing over what Steve said and figured he might as well get an early start, or he was trying to avoid talking to Steve before they headed to work. Or both.

Whatever his motive, Eddie isn’t home when Steve gets back, or when he has dinner ready to serve, or when Steve gets tired of Letterman’s voice and goes to bed alone. The thought of another night without Eddie almost makes him sick, but maybe this is what he deserves for treating Eddie like he had. Steve buries his head under the covers and tries not to cry.

It’s late when Eddie slips under the sheets behind him, waking Steve from a light doze. Eddie has an arm draped over his waist and his nose pressed into the back of Steve’s neck, and it’s so normal that Steve thinks he could choke on it. He can’t get his throat to cooperate enough to say anything, but he lays his arm over Eddie’s and squeezes his wrist.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you feeling better?” Eddie whispers, cautious about aggravating Steve’s noise sensitivity. It’s that concern, shared without bringing up Steve’s actions from yesterday, that breaks the dam.

Steve clutches at Eddie’s arm, the only thing tethering him to their bed. “I’m sorry, Eds, I’m so sorry.“

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s voice takes on a panicked edge at the first sign of Steve’s distress. “What are you sorry for, baby?”

“I yelled at you. I told you to shut up and leave me alone, and you did,” he recounts miserably.

Eddie props himself up on his elbow and encourages Steve to roll onto his back so they can see each other. “Steve, you had a migraine and I was making too much noise. It’s okay if you need some space when you don’t feel well, and I’m sure you would’ve been nicer about it if your brain hadn’t been trying to kill you, but I get it. I didn’t take it personally.”

“But… you didn’t come to bed.”

“We talked about it earlier this week,” Eddie reminds him gently, “I had a band who needed to coordinate studio time around their day jobs. It was an early start this morning, then I stayed late when they came back in the evening.”

It does sound somewhat familiar. “You planned to sleep in the guest room anyway,” he remembers, feeling a little foolish for overreacting. “‘Cause you didn’t want to wake me up.”

Eddie’s brow creases beneath his bangs. “Have you been feeling bad about this all day?”

Steve doesn’t want to sound pathetic, but he admits, “I tried to call you at lunch but you didn’t answer. I guess it felt like I should take the hint, you know?”

“I was stuck in a meeting with the marketing team. No passive-aggressive messages here, I promise. I didn’t even know there was anything to be passive-aggressive about.” Eddie sweeps a stray piece of hair away from Steve’s forehead and kisses the skin he uncovers at his temple.

Steve shuts his eyes and groans dramatically. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Eddie insists, looking into his eyes so Steve can see how much he means it. “You’re just sensitive to other people’s feelings, even if they’re not necessarily feeling the feelings you think they’re feeling.” His mouth twitches as he realizes how ridiculous that sentence was.

Steve smiles along with him. “You know, I think I got what you meant there, but I’m not sure.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Next time you’re worried that you were an asshole, ask me. You know I have no problem fighting when there’s a fight to be had.”

“Okay.” Steve nods decisively. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Eddie’s gaze drops to Steve’s lips. “Now can I kiss you? I’ve been home for, like, ten minutes and not touching you is making me crazy.”

Steve squeezes their interlocked fingers where they still lie draped over his belly. “You are touching me,” he points out, already tilting his head so Eddie will have a good angle as he slots their mouths together.

It’s like Eddie knows just what Steve needs right now, something slow and loving to prove that everything is okay between them. He kisses him with a lazy rhythm that makes Steve melt back into the pillows with a sigh. Every languid swipe of their tongues, every gentle touch of a hand on his jaw or the back of his neck or the curve of his hip, wipes more of the self-consciousness from Steve’s mind until there’s nothing but Eddie— his faded cologne, his tangle of hair, his cigarette-and-cinnamon-gum taste.

“Can I—?” Steve half-gasps into Eddie’s mouth, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

“Shit, yeah, lemme just…” He grunts as he lifts himself enough for Steve to shimmy the underwear off his hips. “And you,” he breathes, already pulling Steve’s pajama pants halfway down his thighs.

They move in unison, each grabbing the other’s half-hard cock with a dry palm. It’s uncomfortable but the touch is incidental to the closeness it facilitates. Forehead to forehead, breathing the same air between filthy kisses, mindlessly rolling their hips into each stroke, they cling to each other like they’re afraid to let go.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie groans when Steve nips at his jaw. He tilts his head back in invitation. “Harder.”

Obediently, Steve ducks to bite the join of Eddie’s neck and shoulder, digging into the muscle there with abandon. He uses the flesh between his teeth to muffle his own moans when Eddie twists his wrist just right and starts to move a little faster.

“Yeah, gonna make sure everyone knows I’m yours?” Eddie laughs breathlessly, torn between rutting into Steve’s fist or arching into the dull ache in his throat. “Leave bruises so I can still feel you tomorrow?”

“Every day,” Steve murmurs into his skin, soothing the bite mark with his tongue.

Then Eddie’s free hand is pulling Steve upward by his hair and swallowing his whine while Steve comes helplessly, and Eddie is following him over the edge and adding to the mess across Steve’s stomach, and they really need to shower but Steve has Eddie draped halfway on top of him, kissing him lazily, and he probably couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

They’re just beginning to doze when Steve says, “Don’t sleep in the guest room again?” It’s more a question than a request. “I don’t care how early you have to get up, it sucks going to bed without you.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie agrees sleepily. He turns his head where it’s pillowed on Steve’s chest and kisses his nipple.

“Love you.”

Eddie doesn’t respond, already starting to snore a little, but Steve feels him loving him back anyway.