#Ember begs for attention

[daughterofyore]

George and the Pond.

King George x f!reader

[[Queen Charlotte (Netflix)]]

category; heavy smut, fluff, angst (lil bit)

wc; 2,249

music inspired;- apocalypse

a/n:: George has a manic episode by the pond, you manage to calm him and he’s so thankful for you he fucks you to show it :)

TW!: NSFW, George porphyria episode (Venus), heavy smut, breeding kink, Good ol fast sex

Venus begged George to find her. She pleaded with him to search, to save her. She was his one true love. She needed him! He ran through the palace grounds, in the distance behind him there was a cacophony of shouts, someone begging for him to turn around. It was Venus’ ex lovers, surely. They didn’t understand the love they shared, the adoration of their coupling. Her beautiful, pale skin and blemished face. Glowing like a fading star against the ebony blanket of the night sky. An infinite amount of white blazing stars surrounding her like a halo in all her glory. Oh, how he longed to be by her side. How he dared to get closer to her. He needed to feel her glow upon his skin, so without a moments hesitation he ripped his clothes from his skin. Silk pyjamas made of the finest lapis lazuli blue discarded into the mud of the pond. He raised his arms to her, crying for her to join him on this mortal plane. For the goddess of love to bless him with her prowess. He could feel her compassionate deposition seep into his very pores, touching his bare, sculpted body. Casting shadows along the dips and ridges of his muscles.

“George!” You cried out to him, watching as he bared his body to the entire garden. Reynolds raced ahead of you, reaching before you could. You were still adorned in your glittering evening gown. Made of a deep fiery scarlet, as if it was made of the last embers of a great fire. Silver lining cascaded down its centre and bodice, elaborate lace adorning the contrasting peachy cream underskirt. It flew around you as you gathered the skirt into your arms, heels clicking off the cobbles and then sinking into the finely kept lawns. You stumbled and struggled to reach your husband, you could see his eyes glistening as he stared at the planet Venus. He cried of his love to her, his devotion. How is it I don’t receive that love? You scoffed, a moment of clarity as you were still unsure as to why he acted this way. You had suspected it for some time now, his comings and goings from Kew. The secrecy surrounding him and the protectiveness of not only Reynolds but his mother too.

Your voice was like an arrow through the fog, piercing the hazy clouds in his peripherals. Venus seemed to fade into the background as he spun to look at you. You weren’t Venus, you were you. Shining brighter than she ever could. As he watched you approach, the sparkles glittering from your dress enraptured him. He felt himself falling in your direction, before a voice called him to turn around. Venus, competitive as always. She challenged you for his attention. He laughed incredulously, how lucky was he to be fought over by the Goddess of Love and her rival? Reynolds stood at his side, begging helplessly for him to return to the castle. He gathered his clothes in his hand, looking at him with a pleading gaze. Continuously he requested for the King to go inside, tried to reason with him. You knew you had never seen this before but maybe, just maybe he would recognise you.

You reached his side, letting go of your dress. It fell on his feet and pressed into his calves. He turned to you, eyes wide, hyperventilating. “You won-“ He whispered looking at you, as if it was the first time he truly saw you. He turned towards the sky, laughing. “You lost Venus! Imagine that!” He returned to face you but upon seeing your worried expression, his celebrations halted. “How come you are not happy? You have won, have you not?”

“George, it’s time we go inside now.”

“What, why? The night is beautiful we-“

“George, Venus has lost this game but I would prefer to celebrate with you indoors.” He stood very still for a moment, dark brows scrunching together as he tried to concentrate and discern exactly what you were implying. His brain felt jumbled, mixed and confused. Like he wasn’t allowed to understand, as if there was a black alabaster wall separating from the here and there.

“I wish to stay here. Let’s celebrate here.” You paused and gazed at him, studying him carefully. You spun to Reynolds.

“Cover the windows and leave his clothes here. Ensure nobody enters these grounds or can see us.” Reynolds pressed his lips into a thin line before muttering a ‘Yes, your majesty.’ He left, grabbing Brimsley by the elbow and guiding him indoors. You turned back to George, your husband. Your king. You rested a gentle hand on his chest, and he stilled. He sucked in a devastating shaky breath before raising his arms to hold your shoulders.

“You, you saw- oh, wife I- oh I am so sorry.” His eyes began to water, a new clarity crossing them. His face slackened, now an evident frown replacing his once maniacal smile. You hushed him, gently guiding him to your chest as you snaked comforting arms around him. You held him in your embrace, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he let silent sobs escape him. He sniffled, clutching onto the fabric of your dress as he eventually sunk to his knees. “My dear I am so sorry, I am sorry I have avoided you. That I have tried to hide I-“ He couldn’t get his words out but you put a comforting hand on his head. Intertwining your fingers with his brown locks, you gently massaged his scalp.

“Do not apologise George. I understand you. I am here for you. Come, let us lie and look at the stars together.” You smiled at him, holding his hand and laying on the lawn. He tentatively lay beside you, he finally noticed his nakedness and his hands rushed to cover himself. You once again shushed him, grabbing the many layers of your skirts and draping them across his waist. “No need to worry about what I have seen before darling.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled, sucking in a breath after as he looked to the sky.

“I could be married to a pompous wench right now, who wouldn’t give a damn about me. Who would run in the opposite direction if she saw what I did tonight..” he turned his head, gazing at you. You met his eyes and smiled. “Yet you stay, you lie with me. Why?”

“I believe I see myself in you. Trapped, misunderstood.” You took a shivering breath. “Sometimes all we need is a little kindness and a show of stability. I wish to be that for you.” His eyes began to glaze, he sucked in his bottom lip as it began to quiver.

He turned on his side, a new light coming to his eyes. Slowly he raised a leg to bend at an angle across your thighs. Bracing himself on an elbow he gazed at you. His face inches from you. “I do not know what I have done to deserve a woman such as you.” Slowly he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You reciprocated it, lips merely mingling before he slipped his tongue across them, asking for entry. You obliged, parting your lips as his tongue slipped by. He licked the bottom of your teeth, before dancing around your tongue with his. He sucked on your lip, biting it gently and sucking the sting away. You gasped, a hand travelling up his side. You could feel his muscles shiver at your touch, he manoeuvred over you, straddling your hips. His cock pressed against your stomach, hardening. His hands travelled up your sides before reaching your breasts. They were secured behind the corset of your evening gown, yet he managed to push a hand down its front and grope one. He massaged it in his hand, loving the mass and softness of it. His kiss deepened, he peppered them along your jaw and to your collarbone. Reaching your cleavage he looked at you mischievously, recalling his hand and replacing its absence with long, sensuous licks across the top of your breasts. His tongue travelled over them, then between. He licked up from your cleavage to your throat, to your lips. Kissing you again before he backed down, grabbing your skirts.

“And I you, my queen.”

You were breathing heavy, barely able to control the growing heat intensifying between your legs. A steady throb as it begged for attention. Your core tightening in angst of what was to come. This was what your wedding night should’ve been, but you didn’t care. This, this was better. Laying on the cool grass beneath a bright moon and stars that reflected off of a still pond. This was bliss. George hiked your skirts up, laying them across your midriff. He bowed down again, grabbing your pantyhose and pulling them down to expose bare thighs. He looked at you over the mound of skirts, smirking. “Are you alright my love, may I continue?” You nod, breath escaping you. You peered up at the stars between the foliage of the cherry blossom tree. George dipped his head between your thighs, gently pushing them apart. He kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin, licking the sting away again once more.

Agonisingly slow he made his way to your centre, licking over the underwear covering you. He raised a hand, rubbing a finger between your folds and feeling the wetness seep the fabric. He grinned, pushing a finger into you and watching you arch your back. He kept the underwear on, watching you squirm as he teased you. Ever so slowly he retracted the finger, dragging it up and pressing it to your clit. Your juices soaked the fabric now, it clung to your very shape. You jolted at the contact, the pressure on your clit making you pull away. He grabbed your left leg, putting it over his shoulder and gripping your thigh to hold you in place. He spread you with a knee, continuously exploring you over the whimsy barrier of your panties. You moaned, trying to move but he held you firmly in place. “Are you ready wife? Ready for me to take you?” You nod feverishly, his ministrations have built a fiery ache in your core. Begging for his attention. Your cunt wept as it pleaded for him to enter it, to give it attention. George smirked, gently taking your hands and pulling you up. He stepped behind you and made short work of the lace up your back. He quickly pulled the dress off, then the undergarments until finally you were bare before him. He smiled, standing back and admiring you. “My beautiful wife, in all her glory.” His eyes were ravenous, without a moments hesitation he was back between your legs. He kneeled, grabbing your hips he hoisted you into an awkward position, your legs dangled above his shoulders while you lay only on your shoulders and head. He held you in his grip, his lips placing tender kisses across your cunt. He licked, slow as of tasting your every essence. His tongue slipped into you, to which he began to lick inside you. He left it begging for more and turned his attention to your clit again. It throbbed for him, and he knew it did. He wrapped an arm around your leg, balancing your ass against his chest as he spread you with two fingers. He began to taste you, sucking on your clit. He nipped it, sucking it better straight after. You squirmed in his grasp but he still held you firmly, refusing to let you move. He lapped at your pussy like a thirsty dog, drinking you up. He turned his attention back to your clit, sucking intensely on it. You moaned, cried out his name. He seemed to only grow more excited and you could feel his length pressing into the small of your back. He sucked, and sucked, and sucked until finally the growing tension ruptured. You screamed his name, yet he continued to suck and lick you through the orgasm. You were trembling at the end, and he lay you down, kissing your stomach. He looked up at you as you threaded fingers through his hair. “I’m going to put a baby in you, my queen.” He smirked and you swore it nearly undid you again. He sat back on his knees, his cock long and hard as it stood. He grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. He grabbed his dick, rubbing it’s tip along your slit. He pressed a firm hand down on your stomach as he slowly pushed his way in without any warning. You stretched, moaning around him. His sheer size pushing you close to ecstasy.

Once he was in he let loose a shivering sigh, looking back to you. “Are you alright my love?” You nodded, placing a hand on his as it pressed into your stomach. He could feel the faint mass of his cock in you, it turned him on even more. Slowly, he pulled out and pushed back in again. Keeping a slow and steady rhythm till you had adjusted. Once he could feel you relax, he began to pound into you. Growing in intensity. Gasps of air escapes him each time he fucks you. You were a moaning mess, barely able to breathe. Your breasts bounced up and down at the ferocity he pounded into you. His balls clapped off your ass, sounding through the garden. You felt like you were in heaven. He looked up at you and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it. He pinched your nipple, pulling it slightly as he fucked you. You were in ecstasy. Every inch of your being burning, yearning for his touch. He grabbed your hips, spinning you around to be on all fours as he stayed inside you. He gripped your hips and continued his merciless fucking. “George! Oh fuck George-“ You screamed for him, moaning his name.

“I’m going to cum inside you pretty queen-“ He moaned your name, deep and guttural. “And watch you grow with our child, our heir.” You cried out for him again, and it was all he needed to slam himself into without mercy, he reached a hand around you, rubbing your clit with no remorse. It was so intense you couldn’t think straight.

“George I- George I’m going to cum!”

“Do it, do it for me my queen. Do it together.” He moaned above you, continuing his ministrations. The pair of you cried out, heads thrown back in ecstasy. You orgasmed, and he spilled his seed into you. It’s warmth spreading through your core. He stayed in you for a moment, breathing deeply. You were gasping for air below him. Eventually he slid out, pulling you down to lay beside him. He held you close, running a lazy hand up and down your side.

“My beautiful Queen, fucked by the garden pond.”

#king george iii #king george bridgerton #king george x reader #king george x f!reader #queen Charlotte #queen Charlotte x reader #king George smut #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton series #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton fanfiction #queen charlotte fanfiction

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Part 2: Secret Glances and Wandering Hands✨ dbf! Joel

Chapter Summer: After having the best night of your life with Joel Miller, will you be able to control yourself around him when he comes around your family? Or will you be a hot mess that can’t keep your hands off him?

Part 1

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: cream pie, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, no outbreak! Joel, porn with plot, dbf! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next two days pass in a blur. You can’t stop thinking about Joel, can’t stop talking to him. The two of you haven’t stopped texting since you left his house, not able to stay away from each other. He never really was a texter, always saying how he hates it and doesn’t respond to nearly half the texts he gets, but he always texts you back. Never leaves you hanging. And you know then that you’re special to him. And that makes you that much more crazy for him and his tempting brown eyes.

He’s like a festering disease in your mind that keeps growing and growing until it takes total control of you. Winding around all your brain cells, twisting and bending them until you can think of nothing but him and only him. He’s all you can think about, all you want to think about. But then that one thought always enters your mind. That one inconvenient, pessimistic thought. He’s your fucking father’s best friend.

It eats at you, stirs trouble up in your mind. But you don’t care. Not enough to let your feelings for Joel go. You’re too involved now. Too tied up with him. If you let him go then you’ll surely lose yourself because no other man is like Joel. He’s one of a kind. The only one that can spark a fire in you. The only burning ember that can set you ablaze when nobody else can. He’s a dangerous wildfire, but you want to get burned by him. It’s your new favorite fixation. Your addiction.

You know you’re in trouble. If you’re already this wrapped up in him then how will you hide your feelings when Joel comes around your father and you’re around? What the fuck are you supposed to do then? Hide how you feel? Yeah, right. As if you can do that. It’s not possible. Not after he’d been inside you. Not after his fingers had made you cum so hard that you were shaking against him and seeing stars. Not after his hot breath had skimmed down your neck, his hands sliding up and down your inner thighs, teasing and working you up so much that you were drenched before he even reached your throbbing center. And definitely not after his soft lips had devoured yours, leaving you begging for more of his inviting, delicious tongue. Wanting to feel it slide up and down your folds until they reach the most sensitive spot as you grab his tousled curls and ride out your paralyzing orgasm as you beg him to make you cum again and again, until you give him every part of you, all of you.

You snap out of your wet daydream as you realize you’re squeezing your legs together and still sitting at your laptop, a full list of apartments on the page that you’re supposed to be looking at. But instead you’re thinking of intense brown eyes and strong hands.

Get yourself together. You need to find an apartment if you ever want to get out of this house and have your own space again. Why did your old apartment have to burn down and why was it taking so fucking long to find a new one?

You close the laptop hard, completely flustered at your lack of attention to what’s important on your agenda. You glance at the clock and realize you’re running late. You need to get to class before you miss lecture hall. You grab your pink backpack and stuff your laptop in it hurriedly and leave your bedroom, running down the narrow stairs in a rush.

Class. Focus on getting to school, not Joel.

Before you can descend the stairs, your mom comes out from the kitchen and stops you before you can leave the house.

“Oh, honey. Before you go I was wondering if you’ll be home for dinner?” she asks as her bouncy, dark curls frame her face, her blue eyes shining up at you as she gives you a soft smile.

“Yeah, I should be. Why?” you ask, your eyebrows raising as if she is about to say something out of the ordinary.

“Oh, good. Your father just invited Joel for dinner, so he’ll be here too.”

You freeze on the stairs as your hand goes tight around the railing, your heart stopping for just the tiniest second. Joel was coming for dinner? Fuck. She notices your wide eyes and your death grip on the rail as you stand still on the stairs.

“Everything okay? You look like you just saw a ghost,” she replies with a concerned look on her face.

You grab your hand from the rail and make your way down, fishing out your car keys as you zip up your bag. “I’m fine. Just realized I forgot I had an assignment due today is all,” you lie, biting your tongue as you turn the front door knob and open the door, welcoming the cool breeze in.

“Oh, I see. Okay, well have fun at school, honey. I’ll see you for dinner.”

You wave goodbye and walk out the door into the chilly breeze of fall. When you unlock your shiny black Nissan Rogue and open the car door, you throw your backpack in the passenger side and plop down into the driver’s seat. You slam the door shut and rest your head on the cold steering wheel, trying to sort your racing thoughts out.

Breathe. It’s only dinner. You can do this. You can fake it. You can pretend that you weren’t just fucked by Joel fucking Miller. Right?

You’ll have to pretend that thick cloud of tension isn’t in the room tonight, but it’s always there. Hanging like a low rain cloud that’s just waiting to spill its rain and thunder all over you while it takes you under and drowns you, suffocates you. That’s what he is. A slow turning thunderstorm that wants to strike you down and light you on fire as he consumes all of you and takes you for himself to destroy in a wave full of passion and pleasure.

You start the car up and just as you’re about to put it in reverse, you hear your phone vibrate in your backpack pocket. You pick it up and find a text from Joel waiting for you to open. You quickly unlock your phone and read the text.

Joel: Guess who got invited to dinner at your place tonight?

You quickly respond with a smile plastered all over your face. So I just heard. Looks like I’ll see you tonight, brown eyes. You put a winking emoji at the end and push send.

Okay, now you really are late. You put your phone back in the side pocket of your backpack and quickly pull out of the driveway. You put it into drive and speed to campus. You hear your phone buzz again, but you can’t look at it till you get to class. You’re too late.

When you finally make it to school and walk into class, the professor has already started the lecture. You sneak in the back and take a seat in the auditorium sized room, hoping he doesn’t notice you barging in ten minutes late. When you take a seat, you secretly pull out your phone and look at the missed text from Joel.

Joel: Brown eyes, huh? I like the sound of that. That my new nickname or something?

You giggle at the text and immediately respond. That’s what I’m going to start calling you, brown eyes. I just can’t stop thinking about them or you. You end it with a smiley emoji and push send. Joel texts back about a minute later.

Joel: You’re fuckin adorable, baby. Can’t wait to see you later. You gorgeous girl.

Your heart skips a beat at the last text and the smile on your face is so big that you’re sure the entire class can see the crimson blush all over you. You aren’t paying attention, so when the professor clears his throat and calls out your name you’re immediately drawn out of your lovesick texting game. You put your phone in your bag and quickly apologize and ask him to repeat his question.

“I said no phones in class. Don’t let it happen again,” he warns with a glare in his eyes.

“Yes, professor. Sorry. Just got distracted,” you apologize. He gives you one more nasty glare and goes back to his lecture on the practices of law. You sigh and get your head focused back on the lecture, trying to push Joel out of your mind. But he’s stuck like glue, no way to push him out.

Joel Miller is going to be the death of you.

When you get home from school, you run upstairs and get busy getting ready. You have to look hot tonight but not so much that your parents notice something is up. You dig through your closet hurriedly and start picking apart outfits. You hold up a short jean mini skirt and look in the mirror. Nah, too short. You flick through your outfits and try again with a pair of distressed black jeans. As you hold them up to your waist in the mirror, you automatically shake your head no. Too boring. You rip apart your closet and get so worked up and frustrated that you end up on the floor, cursing under your breath.

Why the fuck is this so hard to pick an outfit and why the fuck can you not get Joel Miller out of your head? You audibly groan into your hands and slouch over as you’re about to give up. When you look back up into the closet, a dress that had gotten caught behind some sweatshirts peeks out at you. Your eyes go wide as you stare at the perfect dress for dinner. Jackpot.

You push yourself off the cream colored carpet and reach for the hidden dress. You pull it out of the closet and rip your jeans and sweatshirt off, quickly sliding on the floral material over your figure. When you turn around to look in the full length mirror, you gasp as you take in the gorgeous dress. You glide your hand over the soft polyester fabric and take in the vibrant colors. It’s a short mini dress that’s light blue in color and has dark violet flowers all over. The thin straps hang over each side and tie together softly on your shoulders. It shows off just enough cleavage but not too much. The dress hovers a few inches from your knees as it grazes along your sides, the perfect combination of sexy and not too much. This will definitely catch Joel’s attention. And you plan to tease him as much as possible tonight.

You slide on some slip on white Converse shoes and call it good. Heels would be too much, your parents would definitely question your choice of wardrobe. You take a seat at your lit up vanity and smooth out your spiral curls with your bristled brush. After fixing your hair, you apply some shiny lip gloss to your smooth lips and highlight your eyes with some shimmery champagne colored eyeshadow. After inspecting yourself in the mirror, you smile and head downstairs. Joel will be here any minute, and you’re already freaking out.

When you step into the open kitchen, you notice your mom taking out some chicken breasts from the oven and your dad sitting on the couch with a newspaper in his hands with a football game muted on the tv. The wafts of chicken pull at your appetite and your mouth starts watering, but it’s also watering for something else. And that something is Joel Miller’s cock. You lick your lips in anticipation of having him again. That hot, salty taste sliding down your throat, coating your insides…

You jump when your mom pulls you out of your wet daydream as she compliments your dress. “That’s a pretty dress. Haven’t seen that one before. Is it new?” she asks as she mixes up a side of creamy mashed potatoes in a teal mixing bowl.

“Oh, yeah. Just got it at the mall a few weeks ago. You like it?” you ask as you smooth the material down on your thighs.

“Love it,” she says as she flashes you a smile and gets back to fixing dinner.

“That’s a little short on you, isn’t it?” your dad asks as he lowers his wide lense reading glasses and sets his newspaper down on his lap, giving you a disapproving look as he glances the dress over.

“No, I don’t think so,” you say nervously as you pull at the ends of the dress.

“George, she’s fine,” she says as she rolls her eyes at him. “It’s a lovely dress, sweetheart. Now will you be a dear and go set the table? Joel will be here any minute.”

“Sure, on it,” you nod as you grab up the glass plates and a handful of shiny silverware.

When you set up the last spot at the table, you smooth out the cream colored tablecloth and nod in approval. You look around the room and inspect the large dining area. Crimson curtains hang over the large, cascading window, a tall rustic grandfather clock sits next to the stairs, all six wooden chairs are pushed into the table, and the pictures of you and your family from summer vacation hang around the open dining room. You hear a jarring knock at the door and jump at the sudden noise.

“Honey, can you let Joel in? My hands are full, and your father is in the middle of a call,” your mom yells from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I got it,” you call back. Every step towards the front door has your heart hammering against your chest, and your palms feel sweaty. All you can think about is how much you want to put your hands all over him, how much you want to tangle your fingers in his unruly, tousled curls as you scream his name in white, hot bliss.

When you open the solid frost colored door, you freeze in place and have to practically pick your jaw off the floor from how ridiculously handsome he is. Joel is leaned up against the edge of the door, casually comfortable as he smiles down at you. The dimples encase his handsome features and send butterflies tumbling through your stomach. He’s wearing a deep red button-up plaid shirt and dark washed out jeans that fit perfectly against his formed legs. His hair is slicked back with gel and his lower arms flex at his sides, sending thick veins spiraling against his tan skin.

God, he looks good.

“Hi, sweetheart,” his voice drawls like sweet syrup that sticks to your insides. His crooked smile pulls at your heartstrings as you nearly sink into a puddle on the frayed welcome mat.

“Hi,” you say back shyly as you tug a loose curl behind your ear.

His doe eyes skate up and down your body, slowly taking in every inch of you that he can. His eyes seem to glow an amber color as a radiant glow casts over his face. “You’re so gorgeous,” he hums as he cups your chin and slowly grazes the pad of his calloused thumb against your jawline. You seem to get lost in his hypnotizing gaze as the tip of his thumb brushes against your lower lip. You almost lean in, wanting so badly to pull his head down to yours so you can graze your lips over his, but your father interrupts as he comes around the corner. You and Joel jump apart before he notices anything.

“Hey, Joel! Come on in. Claire is just finishing setting the food up on the table, so make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, George. Don’t mind if I do,” Joel smiles as he steps through the threshold of the door and closes it tight behind him. When your dad disappears behind the corner of the dining room, Joel trails his hand against the small of your back and drops it down to his side, but not without grazing against the back of your thigh. You gasp as goosebumps appear over the patch of skin he just touched, the back of your neck already sweating from having his hands on you. You don’t stop to look behind you. You just keep moving into the lit up dining room, away from the tempting hands of Joel.

You pull out a chair as it sounds like chalk to a rusty board and sit as you pull the chair up so your legs are underneath the delicate tablecloth. Joel takes the seat next to yours and slides the chair over just a tad, just enough to where if he wanted to he could reach out and graze your knee. The thought of it has you giggling on the inside.

Your mom brings in the main dish, cooked Parmesan chicken breasts and sets the porcelain dish in the middle of the crowded table amongst all the other various dishes. “Joel! So nice to see you. How was work?” she asks with a big smile on her face.

“Oh, you know, the usual. We were pretty busy today. Got a lot of new workers on the job, so thankfully I didn’t have to stay late today.”

“Well, I’m so glad you got to come tonight. Should be a pretty good meal,” she says as she takes a seat on the opposite side of the table, across from Joel.

“Wouldn’t miss one of your dinners,” he says with a grin on his face.

“Well, go on. You guys dig in. Get what you want. There’s plenty more and dessert is cooling off, so help yourself.” Joel happily obliges and grabs up his plate, scooping out some mashed potatoes and chicken onto it. You go to grab the salad tongs, and his hand comes down on yours as you two reach for the same item at once. You feel a spark of electricity zap through your fingers as you quickly pull your hand back hurriedly.

“Sorry, go ahead,” you blush as you put your electrified hand in your lap, playing with the hem at the end of the flowery dress.

“Ladies first,” he offers as he holds his hand out and waits for you. You nod your head at him and take the end of the tongs, wishing his rough hand was still on yours. You fill your plate up and take a bite of the warm, seasoned chicken. It slides down your throat as the savoury flavor sticks to your tastebuds.

“Mom, this chicken is excellent!” you say excitedly as you take another bite, this time getting Parmesan in the mix.

“Glad you like it,” she smiles as she stabs at the salad in front of her and takes a small bite.

As you continue eating, your mom and dad make small conversation with Joel, but then they ask you a glaring question. “How’s the apartment hunting coming, sweetie? Finding anything you like?” your dad asks as he looks over at you, his Texas State University jersey hanging loosely over his athletic figure.

“Oh, you know. The same. I’ve been applying to a few I found, but I haven’t heard anything. Seems like it’s almost impossible to find anything right now. They’re all waitlisted or unavailable,” you groan under your breath. You take another small bite of chicken and chew, the taste of disappointment setting in as you grow stale from apartment hunting.

“Sorry to hear that, baby,” he says soothingly. “Joel, you don’t think you could help my little girl out do you? You’ve got the hookups with this sort of thing. Mind helping her find a place?” he asks nicely.

Joel turns his head toward you and flicks his eyes over you carefully. “Sure, I can help. Anything for my best friend’s daughter,” he smiles. There’s something hidden underneath that smile, the curl of a smirk as his eyes turn a hint darker as he rolls those last three words out. Best friend’s daughter. He means to say best friend’s daughter that he fucked on top of his couch in the silhouette of night in his house.

“Thanks, Joel,” you smile as you tap the edge of your knee against his, silently thanking him with more than words. He curls his lips up as he turns back to his plate, jabbing a piece of chicken onto his metal fork.

The two of you continue brushing the side of your legs against one another as your parents continue the small talk with you and Joel. The denim material feels cool and slightly rough against your bare skin. You can practically feel the heat that comes off his thigh as your leg digs into his, can practically taste it as it simmers off his tan skin.

A low rumble starts aching in your belly, but you aren’t hungry for food. You’re hungry for Joel. It’s so very tempting to reach your hand out and trail your fingers up his inner thigh, so easy to discreetly palm him through his jeans as you make the blood rush, pulling at his hardening cock as you get him all worked up under the table. So very tempting…

Your better judgement leaves the room as you throw all your dignity and self control out the window, watch it fly away like your heart did the first time you saw Joel standing in your living room. You can’t control yourself. He’s too hot, too tempting, too damn charming, his hands too experienced, his mouth too lush and inviting. Ah fuck it, it’s fine.

“How’s Sarah doing? She like being in high school now?” your dad asks as he stuffs some mashed potatoes in his mouth, looking over at Joel.

“She’s getting used to it. It’s a lot bigger than middle school, but overall I’d say she’s doing well,” he answers as he takes another bite of the flavored chicken. Your mom jumps in on the conversation and asks a question directed at Joel. Now’s your chance.

You sneakily reach your right arm out and set your hand down on the edge of his knee gently. He jumps a little but continues on with the conversation.

“And she’s making lots of friends I presume? She’s a social butterfly that one,” your mom laughs as she takes a sip of tea from the tall glass in front of her.

You trail your hand up higher, sliding up the crease of his jeans, going over his inner thigh slowly. Your nails trace delicate patterns over the inner seam. You’re almost there, almost.

“Oh yeah, she has a ton of friends. Sometimes I can’t even keep her at home. She…” His sentence cuts off as he chokes on his words, thrown off by your impulsive behavior. You grab his cock through the tight denim around his shaft, slowly working your hand up and down his length as you feel his cock harden, getting thicker by the moment.

“Joel, are you alright? You’re not choking are you?” your mom gasped out, almost standing up from her seat.

“No-no, I’m f…fine,” he says with gritted teeth, his jaw clenched from the buzzing arousal you ignite on him. “Just swallowed too much at once,” he gnashes out, a slight groan getting stuck deep in his chest.

“Oh, good. Thought I was gonna have to call an ambulance,” your dad laughs, joking to himself as he swallows some green beans.

Joel isn’t amused at all. He covers his mouth and turns to you, whispering harsh words as he puts a hand over yours to try to stop you from jerking him off under the table. “Quit that,” he glares. He gives you a warning glare, but you can see he’s turned on. The way the large veins in his neck strain against him tell you quite enough.

You give him your best sultry eyes and smirk up at him, mouthing “Make me” to him. His glare relaxes as he clenches his jaw, his eyes growing darker as he gazes at you, a hint of a smirk rising on the corner of his mouth. Oh boy, you’re in trouble.

He grabs your wrist sharply and pushes your hand away from his erection that’s planted firmly against his zipper. He places his rough hand on your thigh, slowly sliding it up your inner thigh as butterflies start to form in the pit of your stomach. You grab your glass of sweet tea and take a drink, letting the sugary liquid rinse down your throat as you push down the growing arousal that’s building in the base of your spine. You hear your parents asking Joel about fixing your dad’s truck. He’s always been good at that. Fixing things. Houses, cars, floors, your growing orgasms…

Before you know what’s happening, he slides his calloused fingers inside the lacy material and finds your folds as he rubs up and down, spreading the already built up slick all over you. Your eyes go wide and you spit out your tea, coughing up the liquid you choked on as you grab the crimson napkin and cover your mouth.

“Honey! Are you alright?” your mother asks alarmed, her arm reaching across the table as if she can help you. She can’t help you though. Nobody can except Joel, especially since he’s finger fucking you in front of the parents, under the table in private. He slides his middle finger inside you and you squeeze your legs together, trying not to moan at the dinner table.

“I’m fine, just went down the wrong tube. Think I took too large of a drink,” you gasp out, dabbing your mouth as you fist the soft cloth in your hand. Pretending like you’re completely fine and not building up an orgasm right at the dinner table.

“Oh, thank God. Just be careful next time you take a drink. George, tell Joel about what you heard today at work,” she says as she turns to your dad. He starts rambling about some office promotion at work, but you tune him out. The only thing you’re focused on is holding back your moans as Joel elicits an orgasm out of you.

Your left hand wraps around Joel’s wrist as he works you nice and slow, two fingers stretching your walls as they work up and down, up and down. His thumb finds your clit as he presses down firmly, drawing pressurized circles meticulously around your throbbing bundle of nerves. You dig your fingers into him and bite down on the cloth with your other hand, holding in a moan as you fight for your life.

Your skin is flushed, your eyes wide in fucked out bliss, and your throat is completely dry. The orgasm is building in the base of your spine, slowly lowering down your body as your walls start fluttering around his fingers. You’re right there, so fucking close. Another wave of slick runs down your center, right on his thick fingers. You were going to spill right there in the chair, completely ruin your lace and Joel’s fingers.

As your dad says something to your mom, Joel leans over and whispers dirty words into your ear. “Atta girl. That’s a good fucking girl. Cum for me, make daddy proud,” he growls into your ear. And that was it. That was all the motivation you needed.

Joel speeds up his fingers, pumping in and out harder, the circles around your clit growing deeper and deeper until you can’t take anymore. You feel your walls clench around his fingers, feel the white hot sensation take place, and then you cum, hard. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself drip hot liquid all over his fingers as he continues to pump a few more times into you, making sure he collects all the slick on himself. You bite down hard on the cloth and choke out a moan. Your face is hot and flushed, and you can barely see anything in front of you as you come down from your oragasmic high. You can see Joel smirking from the corner of your eye, so proud of himself for making you cum just like that.

What a fucking tease.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling alright? What’s wrong?” your mom asks as she pulls concerned blue eyes your way. Your dad follows the same, eyeing you carefully with furrowed brows.

“I’m…I’m okay. I just think I ate too quickly. My stomach…feeling a little queasy…I guess,” you gasp out, trying to collect yourself as you feel Joel’s fingers retract from you, fixing your underwear over your cunt again as he slides the material smoothly over your center, feeling just how drenched and uncomfortable it is now.

“Oh, alright. Just take your time next time. Maybe hold off on anymore bites for a few minutes?” she asks with worried features.

“Mhm,” you nod, still too fucked out to focus on anything but the ringing in your ears.

“Joel, dear. I do hope you’re enjoying the Parmesan chicken. It’s George’s new favorite,” she beams at your dad as he smiles back.

“Oh, it’s perfect. Absolutely delicious.” He draws the last two words out slowly as he takes the two fingers that were inside you and pulls them in his mouth, sucking slowly as he stares at you with smoldering eyes. Your jaw drops at the provocative words and action.

Joel Miller is a fucking menace.

You take a couple of minutes to catch your breath, come back down to earth where your breathing wasn’t so ragged and your body wasn’t strung out from the fucked out bliss. Whenever you pull yourself back together, you hear Joel’s chair push back against the hardwood floor. You look up and he’s walking out of the dining room, his plaid shirt clinging to his broad back, pulling excessively as he flexes his muscles around it.

“If you’ll excuse me, gonna run to the restroom.”

You turn back to your plate and push the fork around the chicken, stabbing at a piece as the thought of food makes you nauseous. You hear Joel quietly clearing his voice in the other room and when you look up he’s staring at you, trying to get your attention. His dark eyes smolder at you as he smirks, and then you’re back on edge again as your throat runs dry. He curls his index toward him, coaxing you to follow him as he stands at the edge of the staircase waiting for you to join him.

“Ummm, I’m also gonna go. My stomach is feeling pretty queasy, I might be sick,” you say hurriedly as you practically trip out of the chair and stumble across the room. Before you can leave the room, your mom calls after you.

“Let me know if you need anything, honey. Feel better,” she says as you exit the room, stopping right in front of Joel. He licks his tongue slowly over his teeth, and it makes you weak at the knees. He quickly grabs your wrist and pulls you up the staircase. You follow with no objections, wanting to feel his soft lips on your skin, wanting him to burn you with his scorching flames that lick at his tanned skin.

He pulls you into your room and closes the door swiftly behind him, locking it as he turns to you, glaring at you with burning eyes. “You couldn’t fucking wait to put your hands on me until we were alone?” he asks with a clenched jaw and tight lips.

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t control myself. You were too tempting,” you apologize sweetly, batting your eyelashes up at him in a flirtatious manner.

“Mhm. I noticed,” he says as his lip twitches, his stance guarded against the door.

“Well, it’s not like you could either. I mean you’re the one that made me cum at the dinner table, in front of my parents,” you bite back, your eyebrows raised in defense.

“You’re the one that started it,” he huffs, taking a step toward you.

“But you’re the one that finished it,” you smirk back, looking at him under the hood of your eyelids as your gaze pulls him forward.

“You’re walkin’ on mighty thin ice, darlin’,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he takes another step forward, getting closer to you.

“And what are you gonna do about it, huh? You gonna teach me a lesson?” You bite your bottom lip seductively, and Joel watches with his pupils expanding. You can see his cock hardening under the tight jeans, begging to be set free. He takes another step forward and another, ending up right in front of you as he drags his hand through his salt and pepper scruff slowly.

He takes his hand and pulls at the edge of your dress, grazing his fingers against your thigh as heat builds in the pit of your stomach. “Oh, yes. Gonna show you what happens to bad girls who don’t behave. Got a real good lesson to teach ya.”

He wastes no time and pulls you to his chest, crushing his mouth down on yours as he kisses you like he’d been touch starved for days. You part your lips like the red sea and invite him in, opening wider as he clashes his tongue against yours and tastes you. His coffee scent is all over you, seeping into your bones, consuming you whole as his taste intoxicates you, submerges you into deep depths as it pulls you under.

He guides you over to the bed as his hands dig into your hips, letting one drop to your ass as he squeezes and teases you. “You look so pretty in this dress darlin’, but I think it’d look even better off.” He pulls the flowery dress over your head and tosses it on the floor, flicking his eyes over you as he takes in the shape of you standing in nothing but lacy underwear.

“Goddamn, baby. So fuckin’ gorgeous. I could just lick you from head to toe,” he groans as his eyes smolder over you.

“Please do,” you beg, your hands fisting his shirt as he sits you on the edge of the bed carefully, right on top of the pink neon blanket.

“Gotta be quick, sweetheart. Don’t want your parents finding us up here. Gotta be quiet. Can you do that for me?” he asks with raised brows as he runs a calloused finger down the edge of your neck, making you sick with want.

“Mhm,” you hum, your fingers still attached to the plaid material.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises. He drags his tongue up the side of your neck and sinks down on your collarbone, making you groan with desire. His hands knead your breasts together as he slides his mouth down, sucking each one into his mouth as he swirls around your breasts, making your nipples pebble underneath his hot mouth.

“Feels so good,” you groan, digging your fingers into the tangled sheets beneath you.

“Yeah? ‘Bout to make ya feel real good somewhere else,” he smirks.

He pushes your thighs apart wide and slides in between your legs, trailing slow kisses up your inner thighs as he teases you, building up that hot slick as it drips against your lace. He drags his thumb over your center and you hiss in response to the sensitive area.

“Goddamn, darlin’. You’re so wet for me,” he growls as he brings his mouth down and stops at your center. He looks up at you with a dark smolder in his eyes as he takes his tongue and licks slowly over your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” you gasp as the weight of his tongue brings down more slick. He’s fucking drowning you right now, and he’s about to pull you over the edge.

“This what you want? Want me to feast on that pretty pussy of yours?”

“Yes, fuck. Please,” you beg, eyes wide as you watch him drag down the ruined lace and toss it on the floor. He slowly licks his lips as he stares at your bare cunt, just like a tiger looks at a fresh piece of meat. Ready to come in for the kill.

“Look at how gorgeous you are, baby. Fuck. Never seen a prettier pussy than that. Now, let’s see how good you taste.” He drops down and licks a full stripe from your your entryway, all the way up your soft folds. He takes his time, savouring your flavor on his tongue as he basks in the glory. Drinking you all in. You dig into the sheets as you hold in a moan.

“Goddamn, you do taste good. So fuckin’ good. Christ.” He dives back into you, licking his tongue up and down your folds, slowly spreading them as he comes in for the kill. He ends at your clit and draws circles on your aching bundle of nerves as he swirls and swirls, pushing a finger inside you as he continues working at your clit. He puts a second finger in you, curling up his fingers to hit that sweet spongy spot that makes you see stars. He pulls at your clit, sucking it into his mouth as it makes all your nerve endings explode. You’re so close, so fucking close.

“Joelll,” you moan, digging your fingers into his untamed curls as he looks up at you through a cloud of fog and desire. His pupils are full blown and black now, the look of seduction written in his eyes.

“That’s right, baby. Tell me who makes ya feel good,” he demands as his fingers curl up and up, hitting your g-spot perfectly every time.

“You, you, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m so close. Please, my clit. My clit… fuck,” you moan as he pulls slowly at your throbbing clit, pulling back the bundle of nerves as he stretches you out, feeling like you’re about to tap out at any second now.

He releases you from his mouth as the bundle of nerves slap back into place, all throbbing and aching as you clench around his fingers, feeling yourself about to lose it all over him.

“That’s it, there ya go. Come on, baby. Give it to me. Want you to cum on my fingers. Wanna taste you,” he growls. He speeds up his fingers as they push harder and faster into your spongy spot, his tongue flicking meticulous circles over your aching clit. You feel your walls clench around him as they flutter back and forth, so close to releasing. He takes your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks hard, and that’s what takes you over the edge.

You feel the white hot sensation pull through you as you cover your mouth and moan loudly, watching him lick up all the cum that seeps out of you. You can barely see him, barely hear him through the fog. Your moans are muffled by your hand. Your ears ring and your vision is spotty as your head becomes lightheaded. He laps you all up, pulling his fingers free from inside you as he sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean, not leaving a single drop to spare.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby. Did so perfect for me,” he praises as he scoots you back on the bed, crawling on top of you as he snakes his leather belt out of his jean loops. He unzips his zipper and unbuttons his pants, pushing them and his black briefs down just enough to set his hard, thick cock free. It plants firmly against his stomach, a bead of precum gliding down his shaft as he crowds your body, pushing you back against your fluffy pillow as your lilac colored walls surround you.

“Gonna fuck you, sweetheart. It’s gotta be quick, so just hold on. Gonna fuck you fast and hard,” he growls as he lifts your legs over his shoulders, caging his arms around you tightly. He moves the tip of his leaking cock to your entrance, slowly entering you as he pushes in. You can feel the stretch as he plunges into you, your walls sucking him in as he pushes further. He’s almost too big, too thick for you, but it feels so good.

“Joel, please,” you whine out before he starts moving again.

“What do ya want, baby?” He groans out as he feels how tight you’re squeezing him.

“Fuck me,” you beg, your hands grabbing on to the back of his shirt as your nails dig into the cotton material, trying to sink down into his skin.

He growls and his pupils expand into black pits. “Such a needy girl. Fuckin’ filthy, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Gonna take real good care of that pussy. Keep those pretty eyes on me, darlin’.” He sinks into you, starting slow and builds his speed as he fucks you faster and harder, his cock bottoming out in you over and over again, making you claws your nails down his back and making you moan into the shell of his ear.

He lifts your hips higher, angling you to where he’s thrusting into you further. You can feel every detail of him. Feel his throbbing, thick cock as it plunges in and out of you over and over. Feel his heavy weight as he hovers over you. Feel his hot breath as he pants out against the side of your face. Feel his rough hands as one skims the edge of your hip, grasping tightly to fuck up into you. You moan out against his lips, just ghosting over them as they linger over your swollen lips, desperate for his mouth to drop down on yours.

“That’s a good girl. Takin’ me so good,” he praises. You drag your hand through his tousled curls, and he groans at the feeling. He picks up the pace, cock thrusting into you hard as you fight to keep your eyes open. You can feel that heat building, feel your walls fluttering against him as your mind starts to go numb. You’re right there on the edge, about to come undone. All you can hear is his muffled moans and the sound of wet, slick skin. The sound of his cock driving in and out of you. A sound you love to hear. It only makes you more aroused.

“Joel…” you moan into his ear, licking the edge of it as he groans in response.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me,” he purrs as he ruts his hips into you, taking his calloused fingers and rubbing your throbbing clit as the orgasm starts to take over. Your eyes flutter closed, and Joel has to remind you to keep them open.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, darlin’. Let me see you.” You peel your eyes back open as you’re on the verge of tears. It feels so good, so fucking good. He rubs his fingers faster over your pulsing clit, and then you’re done. You feel hot heat take over as it rolls down your spine, right through your cunt as you spill all over him, saturating him with white, hot liquid.

“Oh, that’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises. You start to moan his name, not able to hold it in and then he covers your mouth with his own, drowning out your moans inside his mouth as he tangles his tongue with yours. He speeds up his pace, his jaw clenching and his ragged moans hot against your mouth. He pulls away from your lips and rests his sweaty forehead on yours as dripping pieces of curls stick to your skin.

“Right there, right there. Yes, fuckin’ perfect, baby. Feels so good I’m gonna-” He cuts off as his face goes slack and his eyes flame with lust. One last thrust and he’s spilling his seed inside you, deep. You feel the warm liquid slosh inside you, and you moan at the feeling of it. It feels like hot ecstasy that buries deep in your skin. It feels like Joel, it is Joel.

He falls flat beside you on the bed as you both breathe heavy, both too fucked out to move as the bliss takes over. God, you love this. Love to be fucked and talked dirty to by Joel Miller. It’s your new favorite hobby, your addiction. And something about sneaking around makes it even hotter.

He places his softening cock into his briefs and pulls up the jeans around his hips as he zips them up, looping the belt back in as he fastens it around him. He grabs a towel from your bathroom and gently wipes off the sticky mess from your legs, carefully going over your center as you hiss from the now over sensitive area.

He caresses your cheek slowly and skims the pad of his calloused thumb down your jawline, looking at you with full admiration in his chocolate eyes. “Get dressed and come back down after five minutes. I’m gonna head back down. Alright?”

“Okay,” you nod, still breathing heavily from your intense orgasm.

He smiles down at you, a slight dimple showing on the edge of his mouth. You can’t help but smile and admire him. “Did so good for me, pretty girl. So good,” he whispers, praising you as he gets lost in your eyes. “You’re really special, you know that?” he asks in a gentle lull.

You lay there in a daze, having trouble finding your words as you look at him as if he was the sun in the sky. Gorgeous and so radiant, blinding you with how bright he was shining now as his smile beams down at you. “You make me feel special,” you reply out, in a daze like stare.

He chuckles out a deep laugh as he gently kisses your forehead. “I’ll see you down there, baby,” he says as he grabs your hand, dragging his fingers away from you as he lets go slowly and steps toward the door. He opens it quietly, takes one more longing glance at you and then closes the door behind him. You hear his steps echo through the hallway, slowly fading away as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

You cover your face and groan into it. God, you like him so much. So fucking much. He’s perfect, absolutely perfect. You wait a couple of minutes before you crawl your way out of the bed, pulling on a clean pair of underwear and sliding your dress back over your head. You smooth it out in the full sized mirror and fix your fucked out hair, pulling the brush through it until it looks like you didnt just have sex. But you can smell it in the room. The stench of thick clouds of arousal, sweat, and Joel.

Fuck.

You spray a drop of vanilla sugar perfume on to try to cover it up, and that seems to do the trick. But you still smell him, still feel him all over you. He marked his scent on you, claiming you, asserting his hold on you. But you loved it, loved every bit of it.

After a few minutes of finally working up the nerve, you leave your room and head back down the stairs, entering the dining room again as you take your place next to Joel and sit down, pretending like you just didn’t have amazing sex.

“Feel better, honey?” your mom asks as she looks you over, not suspecting anything suspicious.

“Much better,” you confirm as you take a sip of your tea and set the glass down in front of you.

“Good, glad to hear it,” she smiles.

Joel puts his hand on your knee, rubbing slow circles with the pad of his thumb as he soothes you. It’s affectionate and caring, one of your favorite things that he likes to do for you. He always shows you he cares. Always so gentle after sex, always wanting to wrap you up in his arms as he holds you after a hot session of cardio. He’s got a lot of soft spots for being so manly and tough. And you love to see it, that sweet, soft side of him. It’s your most favorite thing about him.

“Joel, you ready for some dessert? Claire made her famous cherry pie, and it’s to die for,” your dad says eagerly.

“Cherry pie huh? My favorite,” Joel groans out, his eyes shifting to you as a small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He winks at you, and your cheeks go crimson as you get what he’s saying. He’s saying it’s his favorite because he’s referring to your pussy. That’s the cherry pie he’s really talking about. You shake your head at him and smile.

Joel Miller. The fucking menace that took over your life.

Tags: @untamedheart81 @roostersforevergirl @dugiioh @blueseastorm @laurrrra @tuquoquebrute @joelalorian @pedritosgfreal @callmecath1 @ladamari68 @amyispxnk @cinnamongorll

Part 3

#joel miller #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #dbf joel miller #dbf!joel #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal

[crow-raven-crow]

hi this is a very simple and kinda vague request, but i'd luv a larissa x fem reader fic involving feet or hand play? either that or something involving the reader realizing she really likes how larissa smells when she comes home from work and larissa starts to tease her and encourages her to smell her while they're fucking because of that. maybe both! hope this isn't too weird lol

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~3k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff !! teasing, NSFW, Reader receiving, g!p Larissa, hand kink, choking kink, slight marking, vaginal fingering, mirror sex, begging, praise kink, mommy kink, shape shifted dick, what a way to come back ohmygods

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

The crackling fireplace painted dancing shadows against the dark walls, creating a show of golden hues just feet before you. The warmth emanating from the soft flames filled you with a peaceful comfort with each bursting ember. Soft, worn pages of a book sat in your hands, the universe that it created in your mind was almost impossible to keep up with, as it kept clouding over with thoughts of her.

The mere thought of her name casted a spell over your senses, making your heart swell and your stomach fill with butterflies. Images of her echoed through your mind, your heart quickening in pace as you did so. You were so consumed with the show of her in your mind, that the book had become long forgotten, as your eyes focused on the flickering firelight.

You felt the rumble of her laughter echo in the chambers of your mind, the softness of her touch as though it was tracing invisible patterns against your skin, the tenderness of her lips as they kissed along your body as though it was a masterpiece, the pleasure of her tongue as though she-

The metallic sound of a key turning in the lock cut through the quiet of your quarters, closing all previous thoughts and jolting you back into reality. The world outside your thoughts immediately rushed back in, leaving only the lingering emotions of them in their place. Your chest heaved slightly, a noticeable heat rushing to your face and making your whole body hot as you caught onto your most recent thoughts.

You quickly composed yourself, inhaling deeply in attempt to settle the small heat igniting within you. Standing slowly as you let out the breath, you placed your book onto the side table, the pages neglected as the fire still roared on and danced behind you. You stepped closer as the door slowly swung open, an excitement filling your chest knowing that she stood behind it. The sight of her stilled the air in your lungs, your lips parting ever so slightly as you took in her beauty.

Her white hair, almost glowing with the light of the flames behind you, was perfectly pinned in her flawless updo, each strand falling together perfectly with each other in every twist she pinned. The pin at the back of her head concealed the length of the silvery locks, but came together to show her grace and elegance all the same. The dress she wore clung onto her every curve, the sleek grey becoming a canvas to her form, allowing her sapphire eyes to pop with the cool tones. The collar of the dress flared out just enough to draw attention to her neck and the delicate lines of her collarbones. The belt that tied around her waist framed her hips in a way that made your mouth water. Gold accents adorned her wrists and neck, being the final touch of warmth that brought out the beauty of her tall frame.

As she entered the room, it was as though all the gods worked in her favor. The light from the flames lighting up her features, yet the dark colors of the room giving her command over it all if she were to say a word.

You must have been staring for too long, your eyes moving up and down along her form to drink in every detail that it snapped you back to the present when you felt her hand trace along your jawline. Her delicate fingers smoothed up the features of your face, cupping your cheek in her palm before laying a gentle kiss against your lips. It was warm, tender as though it was translating a million unsaid words: perfect.

"Hello, my dear.." Her voice was just as serene, overflowing with the happiness and love as though it were day one all over again. Her lips shadowed over your own as she spoke, delicate in all her movements as though she would break you like porcelain. The scent of her perfume overtook your senses, the intoxicating smell of her being so strong that it made your eyes roll back slightly and a deep breath of it fill your lungs.

"Hi, my love.." Your voice was just above a whisper, but running deep with the effect that she had on you. She had known for a while just how drunk you could get on the smell of her alone, and since then she made it a point to wear a little more every so often.

You allowed her to settle into your quarters, her heels quickly coming off with a distinct click of each heel. As she moved deeper into the room, all her items found their familiar homes, making your heart swell knowing this was a place of home to her. Your gaze lingered on her form, watching as comfort seemed to overtake her, her shoulders relaxing and her face coming to a content calm. It was hard not to fall in love with her all over again just at the simplest of things.

You followed behind her with two wine glasses and her favorite bottle, as she moved to sit on the couch in front of the fire. This was one of your favorite ways to unwind with her, and relishing in each others company was something that you would always cherish.

Though.. your thoughts from earlier always had a way of coming back in, especially now that she was even more of a delicious distraction being in front of you.

She spoke about her day, going through the details of her meetings and any particularly interesting emails she had to deal with today. The way she spoke with her hand was mesmerizing, easily capturing you in a trance due to your already heated thoughts about her, as your eyes devoured every detail of her long fingers. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, your breathing hitch and your mouth water as you remembered just what those fingers could do to you.. How she could so easily have you at her mercy.. digging into your flesh and leaving crescent marks in their wake, trailing along your skin and rising goosebumps with each pass, have your back arching and your hips swaying with one simple touch-

"Y/n.. Could you repeat what I just said, my dear?" Her voice shocked you back into your body, the rapid blinking of your eyes and the small jump when she had said your name giving you away immediately. She seemed amused at your blush, the pink hue only making a smirk come to her red painted lips as she caught on to where your thoughts were.

"I- U-Um.. You-" As you spoke, her fingers trailed up your arm, smoothly tracing against your skin and leaving electricity in her path. The rest of your words were cut off when her fingers made it to your collarbones, eventually curling their way around your throat and squeezing oh so gently.

The sensation made your eyes roll back as they fluttered shut, your fingertips gripping onto the hem of your skirt as you felt her move closer to your form, her breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. "What exactly is floating through the pretty head of yours, darling?"

You could feel your heart rate pick up, especially with her fingers resting just above your pulse point, and you were sure she could feel it too. The way your thighs clenched together and how a small whimper left your throat as she squeezed harder were all signs of how the night would go.

"Your- mmph.. your fingers.." Your chest heaved in pleasureful desperation as her lips moved down your neck, her fingers pushing against your jaw and allowing her room to flatten her tongue against your skin. Arousal shot right through to your core, and she'd barely even touched you.

She pushed you down slightly, your hair sprawling out against the cushion as she shifted perfectly between you legs. Her lips met yours in a hungry kiss, her tongue smoothing over your bottom lip as she pushed her hips against your core. Your gasp gave her the opportunity to explore your mouth, the opportunity to start to devour you..

Her fingers worked on the buttons of your collared shirt, quickly exposing more of your skin to her. When she reached the last button, she pulled the garment off completely and took a moment to trace over your skin, her lips gently pulling away from yours as her hands met the skin of your torso. Her fingers lightly scratched against your sides before smoothing their way up to beneath your breasts. Her thumbs worked their way under your bra, her fingertips smoothing over your nipples and causing a whimper to leave your throat.

Before long, your bra was discarded as well, her lips making their way down against your skin and leaving deep marks against it. One of your hands tangled into her hair, disrupting the perfect curls with each tug of pleasure you gave her. Once her tongue smoothed over your right bud, any hopes of staying quiet had left, the need for her building within you even before she was present. She worked on both buds, forming both into hard peaks and giving them both attention before she was satisfied.

When she moved up to capture your lips again, her gaze met blown pupils swirling with lust. You crashed your lips into hers, one hand pulling her in from the back of her neck while the other rested behind you for balance. She was quick to move you into her arms, carrying you to your bed with ease.

She sat down on the edge, placing you onto her lap after getting rid of the rest of your clothes, though slight confusion came over you when your back was to her front.

It didn't take you long to realize why, when she rested one hand back against your throat while the other toyed with your breasts. Your eyes darkened at the sight in front of you - you welcoming her fingers into your mouth with a deep moan, your legs spread open and showing your glistening folds - for the mirror in front of you gave you the best view of what was would come.

"Mmm.. you like Mommy's fingers, hmm?" You felt your brain short circuit at the sound of her voice, at the sound of her title making its way through your ears and building a home inside your rapidly beating heart. You felt the heat course through you as your tongue swirled around her digits, and it showed in the reflection that it was getting increasingly harder for you to wait the more you got drunk on her.

She pulled her fingers from your mouth with a trail of your saliva attached to the ends of them, your breathing labored and filled with lust as you looked into her eyes through the reflection. She nipped the skin of your shoulder, while her other hand traced over the marks she had already painted against you. You were so focused on her lips, that you didn't notice her hand trail down to your core, until she teased against your slit, running her fingers through your folds and making your back arch as a gasp left your lips.

You threw your head back as her fingers began circling your clit, but it didn't last long as her other hand moved your gaze back to the mirror, making you watch her fingers get coated in your slick, how they toyed with the sensitive bud with just enough pressure to make you beg for more, how they circled your entrance soon after, making you clench around nothing.

"Ple- Please- mmn gods please.." Your voice was desperate, full of lust and the undying need to feel her inside of you. It wasn't something that didn't go unnoticed, two of her fingers thrusting into you soon after and making your hips buck into her touch.

"Watch the mirror, sweet girl.. You think you can do that for Mommy?" Her voice took over your senses and felt as though it was consuming you whole. It rang out like a low, velvety rumble with promises of more as each one of her hot breaths trailed against your skin.

Fuck..

"Yes- mm~ yes.." Your half-lidded eyes turned back to the reflection, your breasts rising and falling with each of your heavy breaths as more and more pleasure ran through your body. You watched as she thrusted in and out of you, her fingers curling in just the right spot to have moans flooding out from your mouth and into the dark evening.

"Such a good girl for me.. Taking Mommy's fingers so well.. Oh, look at you.." You could tell with how dark her eyes got, how husky her voice was that this was doing something to her as well. Your body at her mercy as she brought moan after moan to escape your lips. "Good girl.."

Each of her thrusts grew rougher, quicker in pace, and your thighs began to tremble with your impending orgasm. You did your best to watch the way her fingers fucked into you, disappearing with pleasure and watching them come all the way out again, only for the motion to repeat over and over.

Her fingers curled with precision, her other hand toying with your nipples and sending your body rushing towards a peak. You clenched around her fingers hard with each thrust, loving how they felt inside of you. It was all consuming, building up the coil in your abdomen until your peak crashed into you, wrecking through your body as her ministrations didn't stop.

Your body shook with pleasure, taking every new thrust she gave you as you turned into putty in her arms.. but you couldn't help but want.. crave.. need more.. And it seemed as though she had the same thoughts.

The sight of you coming undone in front of her was too much to bare, her own heat building itself up in her body and causing her desire for you to push itself forward. She shifted you onto the mattress, watching as she discarded her clothes after licking her fingers clean. The sight made a moan escape your lips, your own cum disappearing from the actions of her tongue and her pale skin becoming completely exposed to you made your mouth water.

She settled herself between your legs and you couldn't help but pull her down, crashing your lips into hers for an all consuming kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue. Your tongues danced together as you both nearly begged to be impossibly closer.

You pulled away, your lips centimeters away from hers. Your voice was a whisper, but translated so much urgency, so much desire that you knew she would fold when the words left your lips. "Please, Mommy.. I need you.."

Any resolve that Larissa had left faded as you watched her eyes grow impossibly darker, swirling with a hunger that was near insatiable. A growl left her throat before her lips were on yours again, though the kiss didn't last long, a gasp leaving your lips as you felt her hard member press against your core.

You immediately rolled your hips against her, earning a broken moan from the tall blonde. She moved to position herself, then slowly pushed into your entrance. Loud, unadulterated groans left you both as she pushed herself deeper and deeper into you, the stretch quickly becoming a delicious addiction.

As she started to move, it was as though all that existed was her. Each breath you took filled your lungs with her perfume, quickly making you intoxicated and full of her. Each thrust rocked your body with a deep hunger, the sound of your skin slapping together and your moans filling the room only seemed to serve you pleasure in tenfold.

"Please, please, please- I-I need-" A moan tearing through your throat had cut off your next words, her pace growing faster with each beg you were able to shoot out. Each thrust took you to new heights as she pulled nearly all the way out of you before pushing back in all the way.

"You feel so good.. Look at you taking me so well.." Her breathing was labored, her words paired with moans as her own pleasure was building itself up. Your peaks were close, her nails digging into your hips to leave crescent marks there, both of your moans growing louder.

Your mind grew hazy with the feeling of her so deep inside you, the pleasure building the coil up again as a chase towards euphoria. With a few more thrusts, you came hard, your body shuddering as you clenched around her. Her actions only continued as she chased her own high, soon letting out a deep, loud moan and filling you up, just moments later.

Your heavy breaths filled the room, your skin coated in a layer of sweat as you both focused on coming down from your highs.

She shuffled and moved to lay next to you, pulling you into her arms and tracing invisible patterns along your back. After your breathing settled, you slowly opened your eyes to meet deep sapphire ones, a smile coming to both of your lips as only love was reflected back at you.

You shuffled closer, burying your head in the crook of her neck to place soft kisses against her neck and jawline before resting completely against your lover. Your hands found their home against her skin, and the darkness of night mixed with the comfort of your lover made sleep an easy world for the both of you to slip into.

~~

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: IMMMMM BACCCCCKK!!!!

YO IM ACTUALLY SO SORRY I WAS GONE FOR SO LONG- the traveling got to me, and then finals season started, and then more traveling and a lot of other life things happened !!

BUT IM BACK AAHAHHAHHHH

this genuinely felt so good to write because i haven't even touched my writing in so long other that organizing everything in my notes to look better lmao

i know you all understand, and i couldnt be more grateful for that fact

here you go anon :,,,,))) im sosososo sorry for how long this took like holy fuck- i hope you enjoyed it

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

as always, feel free to ask to be added <3

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @kimiinou @ladybathoryy

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

#crowravencrow #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #principal weems #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #principal larissa weems smut #larissa weems smut #larissa weems x you #larissa x you #anon answered #anon ask #anonymous asks #anonymous #wlw smut #wlw fanfiction #wlw fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictionwriter #IM BACK #SORRY IT WAS SO LONG #BUT I SWEAR IM HERE FOR A MINUTE

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Sixteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Jealousy, Angst, Possessive Behaviours, Syltherin!Boys, asshole!Berkshire, Kissing, Threats Of Violence, Weaponizing!TomRiddle, Dirty Talk.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

As darkness shrouded the castle on the overly-anticipated Saturday evening, Tom guided you into the lively heart of the Slytherin common room, a space pulsating with carefree energy and laughter. Students adorned in their finest attire swirled around you, their faces flushed with excitement, their voices mingling in a chorus of revelry. The air crackled with the tang of burning embers, and the room was bathed in a warm, golden glow emanating from countless floating candles overhead.

Amidst the joyful chaos, Tom's friends sat at a secluded table, an oasis of calm amidst the storm. Their demeanor was poised, their laughter soft and controlled, setting them apart from the exuberant crowd. As you stepped closer, you felt like a solitary figure navigating the maze of social intricacies. Emily, who had promised to join you shortly, was notably absent, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

Tom's hand in yours provided some semblance of comfort, grounding you in the midst of the lively chaos as he introduced you to each one of his friends individually. Every introduction was a meticulously choreographed ritual, marked by the graceful dip of heads and the soft rustle of silk against polished leather. Their smiles, though polite, held a hint of calculated charm, concealing a labyrinth of secrets beneath their composed exteriors.

In this enclave of refinement, Tom's circle stood apart from the rest of the common room. The casual revelry of the other Slytherins felt distant, their laughter and chatter forming a separate backdrop to the sophisticated symphony of Tom's world. The room seemed to bend to the will of this select group, accentuating the stark contrast between their cultivated refinement and the more carefree atmosphere of the rest of the room. Here, every gesture and word was carefully curated, preserving an aura of exclusivity. You could tell this was not something they did very often, so when they did, it was absolutely noticed--the rest of the room seemingly more tame in response, a stark comparison to the last party you had ventured in on.

This group represented everything you had ever dreamed of being a part of, all the aspirations you had ever hoped to achieve. Yet, your focus--or rather, your entire fucking mind--was elsewhere.

And the very reason it was elsewhere was seated amidst a circle of his elite friends-- Nott, Berkshire, Black, Zabini, and Malfoy, with Pansy Parkinson at his side--Mattheo's intense gaze bore into you from across the room. His dark eyes, like orbs of obsidian, were sharp and penetrating, dissecting the scene meticulously, and no matter what the fuck you tried to do, there was absolutely nothing that could distract you from the feeling of his gaze, burning flesh wounds into your skin with each passing second.

While his friends engaged in lively conversations, Mattheo's attention was solely fixated on you and Tom. His focus, both laser-sharp and predatory, traced every movement, every touch, every nuance of your interactions with his brother. The air around him crackled with an unspoken tension, his lips pressed into a thin line, a manifestation of the restrained emotions churning beneath his composed facade. It was as though he was dissecting the scene before him, his mind processing every detail with the precision of a master strategist, all while his dark eyes remained fixated on you, as though he was scared that he'd miss something if he looked away.

As the night bore on, you began to grow more comfortable amidst the sophisticated chatter--getting to know a few of Tom's friends fairly well, discussing ambitions and graduation plans without even being offered a single drink. You honestly thought things had been going well, almost far too fucking well--until Tom excused himself momentarily, his eyes meeting yours from the seat next to you as he prepared to make his exit.

"I need to handle something," he said, his voice low and confidential, his eyes flicking to his brother across the room, before returning to you. "I noticed Mattheo watching you...why don't you go say hi? I should only be a few moments, I'll join you when I'm finished."

"Oh, no-uh..." you hesitated, knowing that Berkshire was present, a fact you couldn't ignore. "I don't think it's a good idea, Tom, me and-" you began, attempting to voice your concerns, but he cut you off with a soft, reassuring kiss.

His lips pressed against yours, brief yet meaningful, before he pushed up from the table, leaving you in the midst of the party, alone.

As Tom's figure disappeared from view, you caught another glimpse of Mattheo from across the room, his gaze intensified, his stormy eyes ablaze with a potent mix of irritation and complete fucking fury--something you've seen in his eyes a few times before, but never like this. He sat slumped in the chair, his form swallowed by the shadows, his tousled curly hair falling over his forehead in disarray. The dim light caught the sheen of frustration on his sharp features, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth. His fingers tightened around his drink, the muscles in his hands flexing with the effort to suppress the simmering anger bubbling within him.

You knew him all too fucking well at this point to know that he was not bloody happy, and you weren't entirely confident that approaching him was at all the right move at this moment. Yet, you weren't sure what else you were supposed to do.

But before you could dwell any further, Blaise's eyes, a glimmering shade of obsidian, met yours from across the room. His lips curled into a playful smile, beckoning you over to his group with a subtle yet irresistible gesture. Despite your inner turmoil, the unavoidable feeling of dread pooling in your stomach, you excused yourself from the table and began to hesitantly make your way through the crowded room, every step feeling heavier as you approached the circle of Slytherin boys.

Mattheo's presence never relented, slouchily seated in the love seat, legs spread far too fucking wide, his intense gaze fixed on you. His eyes, like twin storm clouds, seemed to dissect every movement, scanning every inch of your body as you moved, as if he was searching for something hidden beneath your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, and you fought to maintain your semblance of composure.

As you drew closer, Berkshire, always the instigator, couldn't resist the opportunity to unleash his venomous tongue. "As if you're going to call her over here," he sneered, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. "Didn't know our circle was open to charity cases."

The rest of the Slytherin boys, visibly inebriated and riding the wave of arrogance, chimed in with smirks and condescending remarks, reveling in their camaraderie at your expense. It was a calculated display of power, a reminder that you were the outsider in this exclusive circle, a pawn in their powerful game.

Suppressing your frustration, you took a seat next to Blaise, your eyes darting briefly to Mattheo, who watched your every move with an intensity that sent your heart racing. The air crackled with tension, and you felt like a lamb surrounded by hungry wolves, each one waiting for the opportunity to pounce. Yet, amid the arrogance and hostility, Blaise's charm provided a temporary shield.

"Ignore them," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody amidst the discord. "They're always like this. Besides, you look stunning tonight, little raven. Don't let them get to you."

Despite Blaise's efforts to calm you down, to deescalate the situation as best as he could, Berkshire persisted, seemingly unable to control himself.

"I hear you're quite the favourite of the prodigy," he sneered, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Must be thrilling, being the chosen one for a night."

Malfoy, ever the arrogant asshole, added his own twist. "Or maybe she's just a distraction," he said, his tone conspiratorial. "You know how Tom likes to keep himself occupied, especially when the stakes are high."

You parted your lips to say something, to defend yourself in any sort of way, when another voice cut through the air, cutting you off before you could even attempt to force out a syllable.

"Tom's little plaything, isn't that right?" Regulus’ words were laced with arrogance, his voice like a low growl. "Who would have guessed."

Blaise shot Regulus a warning glance, his eyes urging him to rein in his hostility, but the damage was done. The room felt suffocating, the weight of their words pressing down on you, threatening to crush your resolve, and you couldn't hold your tongue any further--if they wanted to play with fire, you were going to make sure you were the one holding the matches.

A derisive chuckle escaped your lips as you assessed the Slytherins before you. "Jealousy, gentlemen, is a rather unflattering shade on anyone," you remarked, your gaze settling on Berkshire. "I'd refrain from it if I were you, Berkshire, you're already hard enough to look at as it is."

Berkshire's lips curled into a sneer, his arrogance on full display. "Well, well, we've got ourselves a little spitfire, haven't we?" he retorted, his voice dripping with condescension. "Someone really needs to fix that attitude of yours...perhaps I'll let Tom know, I'm sure he'd be more than willing to fuck it out of y-"

Mattheo's eyes turned icy, his rough voice slicing through the air like a blade of frost. "Berkshire, I suggest you keep your filthy mouth shut before someone decides to shut it for you," he said, his tone frigid and devoid of any warmth. "Let's start the fucking game, yeah?"

Mattheo's attempt to restrain his anger only made his words sharper, emphasizing the dangerous edge lurking beneath his composed exterior--Blaise, seemingly sensing the danger rolling over the horizon, nodded eagerly, shifting in his seat as he scanned around the circle.

"Absolutely, let's get on with it," he chimed in, his tone more playful now. He turned his attention to Nott, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Nott, truth or dare?"

Nott, appearing unfazed by the tension that had just unfolded, raised an eyebrow and smirked back at Blaise.

"Dare," he replied confidently, his demeanor cool and collected.

Blaise's grin widened. "I dare you to snog the next person who enters this common room."

Nott chuckled, seemingly unbothered by the challenge. "Piece of cake," he said, leaning back casually, his eyes scanning the room for potential targets.

You caught yourself smiling at his causality, but when you noticed a familiar blonde haired girl walking in, her eyes scanning the room as though she was looking for someone, your heart stalled.

Blaise's voice cut through the silence. "Hey, isn't that-"

"Yes." You said, raising a hand to wave her over as her sight finally landed on you. "It is..."

Emily hurried over, her eyes widening in curiosity as she settled into the seat next to you, giving you a small greeting. The room seemed to hold its breath as Theodore stood up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, perfect timing," Theodore said, his voice smooth and confident. "Emily, was it? Lovely name. I've been dared to kiss the next person who enters the room, so I must inquire, do you have a boyfriend, and would you be amenable to participating in this little game?"

Emily blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Um, no boyfriend," she stammered, her gaze shifting nervously between Theodore and the expectant faces around her. "I guess...I mean, if it's just a game, sure, I guess that's fine."

The tension in the circle seemed to heighten as Theodore closed the distance between them, his eyes fixed on Emily's lips. The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath as he leaned in, his hand finding her chin, tilting her head back as his lips met hers in a brief, almost chaste kiss. The atmosphere crackled with a strange mixture of anticipation and awkwardness, your eyes meeting Mattheo's for a fleeting moment--one that felt as though it lasted forever, noticing his jaw tense and his eyes darken as he glimpsed your mouth, and then, as Theodore pulled away, a sly smirk played on his lips.

"There we go, a perfect dare fulfilled," he said as he reclaimed his seat, leaving Emily looking slightly dazed. "And that's how it's done, boys."

Theodore's triumphant tone hung in the air, echoing his satisfaction at successfully completing the dare. Emily, looking slightly embarrassed but surprisingly amused, exchanged a bewildered glance with you. It seemed like Theodore had a natural talent for both charm and mischief, a combination that made him rather unpredictable.

Blaise let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Well played, Nott," he said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and approval. "I think we could all take some fucking notes."

Theodore's dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned his attention to Malfoy, who sat back, looking unfazed despite the intensity of the situation.

"Malfoy, truth or dare?" he asked, his voice dripping with calculated curiosity.

Malfoy, never one to back down from a challenge, arched an eyebrow. "Dare," he declared, his confidence unshaken.

"I dare you to serenade the group," Theodore proclaimed with an impish grin after a few moments of thought, his eyes flicking toward Pansy. "And Pansy here gets to pick the song."

You couldn't stifle the smile that crawled its way across your face as Malfoy's expressions dropped, Pansy sitting up straighter against the back of the couch as though she'd just been abruptly woken up from a slumber. As she pondered her thoughts for a moment, a sly smile crawled across her lips while she turned her attention to Malfoy.

"I heard this charming Muggle song recently. 'Can't Help Falling in Love' by Elvis Presley, do you know it?" When Malfoy groaned, reluctantly nodding, her grin widened. "Perfect. Sing it, Malfoy, let's see if you can capture the essence of a true romantic."

Malfoy, never one to shy away from a challenge, dropped the grumbling act and accepted the dare with a smirk. He stood up gracefully, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt with an air of confidence. The room fell into a hushed silence, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

With a deep breath, Malfoy launched into the Muggle love ballad, his voice slightly off-key but filled with an unexpected sincerity. Each word spilled out in an earnest attempt, and despite the imperfections, there was a genuine effort in his performance. The room was soon filled with laughter as Malfoy's melodramatic rendition took an unintentionally humorous turn.

His eyes, though, couldn't escape the challenge in Pansy's choice of song. As he sang, they occasionally flicked toward her, acknowledging the audacious choice. The laughter and amusement echoed around the room, mingling with the bittersweet undercurrent of emotions that danced in the air.

Amidst the laughter, Mattheo remained as serious as ever, his eyes continually locking onto you. For a brief moment, your gaze met his, and in that exchange, a torrent of memories flooded your mind--past moments shared in secret, a connection that had once felt unbreakable. The juxtaposition of Malfoy's performance and Mattheo's unwavering stare stirred something deep within you, a mixture of nostalgia, regret, and an unspoken longing that lingered in the pit of your stomach, leaving you both captivated and unsettled.

As his show finally came to an end, Malfoy took a bow, the circle erupting into a laughter-filled applause. As he returned to his seat, Pansy wore a satisfied grin, clearly happy with her choice, and Theodore looked especially pleased, reveling in the success of his dare.

"Quite impressive, Malfoy," Theodore remarked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Your secret talents never cease to amaze us."

Malfoy simply shrugged, his usual arrogance back in place. "Naturally," he replied, the corners of his lips quirking up in a subtle smile. "Now, who's next? How about you, Ravenclaw, truth or dare?"

You felt a sudden knot tighten in your stomach as Malfoy turned his attention toward you, his silver eyes sharp and calculating. The weight of the room seemed to press down on your shoulders as the spotlight shifted onto you. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each more precarious than the last. Truth might lead to questions about Tom or Mattheo, both topics you desperately wanted to avoid.

So, with a forced nonchalance that barely masked your anxiety, you replied, "Dare."

You hoped against hope that the dare he gave you wouldn't plunge you into deeper waters, although the mischievous glint in Malfoy's eyes suggested he had something particularly devious in mind--and of course, you most definitely were fucking right.

"I dare you to go into the broom closet with Berkshire for fifteen minutes."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief at Malfoy's audacious dare, your voice laced with incredulity.

"Are you completely mental?" you scoffed, glancing at Berkshire, who seemed equally stunned. "There's no way I'm voluntarily locking myself in a broom closet with him for fifteen minutes. We will undoubtedly end up tearing each other's heads off."

Berkshire, never one to miss an opportunity to mock, chimed in, "Yeah, I'm not signing up for a murder-suicide pact tonight, thanks."

"What's the matter, Raven? Afraid of a little close quarters?" Malfoy, clearly enjoying your discomfort, taunted, "you two certainly have no problems running your mouths at each other in public. I think a little private meeting might be good for you."

You clenched your fists, trying to rein in your irritation. "I promise you, I'm not afraid...I'd just prefer not to be expelled a few months from graduation."

"Fine, fine...you're a bloody baby," Malfoy retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Since you're so picky, how about Mattheo instead. He's not scared of a little closet, are you, Riddle?"

Your eyes darted to Mattheo, his expression stoic, but a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. The room seemed to tighten around you, a sense of foreboding settling in your bones as Mattheo's jaw clenched visibly, his eyes glittering with concealed anger as he put down his cup and stood up. The tension in the room grew palpable, the air thick with unspoken hostility. His voice was low and steady, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Fifteen minutes," he said curtly, his gaze fixed on the broom closet. "Knock when it's up."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his determined stare. There was a whirlpool of something in his eyes, something you couldn't quite decipher--anger, frustration, or maybe something entirely different. As he gestured toward the closet, you felt a shiver run down your spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

With a deep breath, you stood up, your eyes never leaving his. You walked toward the closet, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on your back. The door creaked open, and you both stepped inside, the darkness enveloping you as it closed shut behind you with a soft click. Inside the closet, the air was close, your breaths mingling in the confined space as you stood facing each other with hardly enough room to turn around if you tried to.

The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the tension between you almost suffocating. It was a daring game, one neither of you had expected to play, and now you were trapped together, the world outside the closet slipping away into nothingness, the tense energy in the room vibrating through your bones as the  silence grew to be unbearable, neither of you daring to speak.

Finally, Mattheo spoke, his voice rough like gravel underfoot, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder in the night. "You let him kiss you."

His words weren't a question, but weren't really a statement either--it was as though he was repeating something, reading something off a sheet of paper, trying to make sense of it, each syllable carrying a weight of disbelief, as if he was grappling with a reality he couldn't quite accept. Your pulse increased, your lungs stalling, his tone laced with something you couldn't quite place--accusation, curiosity, or maybe a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," your throat felt tight as you admitted your actions. "I did."

It was a confession, a truth you couldn't deny, even if you wanted to. The darkness seemed to amplify the weight of your words, and you could almost feel Mattheo's gaze piercing through the shadows, seeking answers. And even though you could hardly see Mattheo's face in the darkness of the closet, you could smell the hint of alcohol radiating off of him, not as strong as it usually was, but still enough to make your head spin. Mattheo's breath, warm and laced with the remnants of the party, washed over your face. His next question sliced through the air, sharp and accusatory.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice a low growl, echoing with frustration and confusion. "You said you don't-"

"I don't." You cut him off, already knowing exactly what he was going to say. "Not at fucking all."

The words spilled out, tinged with defiance, but beneath that was a current of vulnerability. You knew the truth of your feelings, but convincing Mattheo seemed like an insurmountable task in the darkness.

"Then why?" he pressed again, his tone more insistent, as though he needed you to unravel this mystery for him. "You're playing him...you're playing him like a fucking flute, yeah?"

His accusation hung in the air, a challenge, a plea for an explanation that made sense of the tangled web of emotions between you, and for some reason, all it did was further your anger.

"Does that bother you, Riddle?" you hissed, your voice cutting through the darkness like a blade. You shifted your weight, locking eyes with him, your gaze narrowed and intense. "Did you think you were the only one capable of playing games? Or maybe you think it’s only okay when you do it?"

The words carried a raw edge, a blend of defiance and accusation, challenging him to confront his own actions and hypocrisy. Mattheo's throat worked as he swallowed, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Raven, you're playing with fire-" he began, his voice a low warning.

"Don't even go there," you cut him off, your words dripping with venom. "I am the shape you made me, Mattheo...filth teaches filth..."

Your voice trailed off, the darkness of the closet adding weight to your words. You tilted your head, catching a glimpse of his parted lips and furrowed brows, a mix of frustration and barely-restrained anger etched on his features.

"And even still," you continued, your tone biting, "I could only dream to be as skilled at it as you are."

Mattheo's jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn't quite place, as your words hung in the air like a heavy fog. The anger and dread that had gripped you moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by an almost palpable tension. His energy shifted, seeping out of the closet through the cracks in the door, leaving a lingering, painstaking atmosphere in its wake.

You stood there, anxiety coiling in your chest, completely unaware of how close the two of you were until this very moment. His presence loomed over you, a silent force that you couldn't escape, and yet, a part of you didn't want to. His chest rose and fell with each intense breath, the confined space amplifying the weight of his proximity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and even if there were, you found yourself rooted to the spot, knowing that not even a fucking fire could force you to move.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, either." He whispered.

You paused. “You-“

"You haven’t left my mind…not even once." His words hung in the air like a sinful confession, catching you completely off guard. “Do you know how fucking annoying that is, Raven? Having to act like you’re not haunting me at all seconds of the fucking day?”

Utter shock seized you, your body tensing involuntarily. You stared at his face, desperately searching for any signs of deceit, but found none.

“The mind works in funny ways,” he said. “Memory…memory taps a fucking gun to your skull and demands you bring back the dead…meanwhile, the dead is out kissing my fucking brother in front of me…”

His gaze bored into yours, raw and unguarded, leaving you utterly defenseless against the truth he laid bare.

“I know we called things off, I know I used you in the beginning, I know I was a fucking asshole to you, and I’m…I’m fucking sorry..." his body seemed to vibrate with restrained emotion, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he was waging a war within his mind. "There’s so many girls out there, Raven...so fucking many that I could distract myself with, but it would do nothing...it's your body, it's your fucking pussy on my mind..."

Each word hung between you, heavy and charged with unspoken longing, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. "Matt-"

Mattheo stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his chest almost brushing against yours but not quite daring to touch. The tension between you crackled in the air, your every nerve on edge. His eyes, dark and searching, drilled into yours, seeking answers to questions you weren't sure you were ready to confront.

"Were you thinking of me?" His voice was a low rumble, an undercurrent of intensity underscoring his words. "When you're with him...every time you close your eyes, who do you see?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers trembling at your sides. The room seemed to spin, the air growing thin as your lungs struggled to draw in oxygen.

"You." The word escaped your lips, a fragile admission that hung between you, heavy with the weight of truth. "Always, always you."

Mattheo exhaled, his breath rushing out like a dam breaking, as though he had been holding it in, afraid of your response. His lips parted, wetted by a tongue that seemed to have forgotten how to form words.

"That's right..." he murmured, his voice barely audible over the racing of your hearts. "You know I'm your best-kept secret, Raven...why don't you show me like you know and believe it..."

His words lingered in the charged atmosphere, a challenge and a plea, leaving you suspended in the moment, torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could be.

Your voice wavered with a mix of concern and disbelief. "You're drunk, aren't you, Mattheo..."

"I'm not drunk." His reply was swift, like a crack of lightning. "I've barely had one fucking drink, I'm as sober as I've ever been...and even if I hadn't quit all that shit, there'd be no way I could drink tonight anyways."

Your breath hitched, your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign that this was some kind of sick joke. "Why?"

Mattheo emitted a low chuckle, but it lacked any warmth, carrying a sinister edge that sent shivers down your spine. "Because, if I was drunk, I wouldn't have been able to control myself...I would have knocked my own brother out fifty fucking times over without even a second thought…not a fucking soul in that room would have been able to stop me..."

His words hung heavy in the air, an ominous promise that draped over you like a suffocating cloak, leaving you with a chilling realization that the tangled web of your past was far from unraveling.

"You fucking ruin me, Raven..." his voice was a low, guttural whisper, dark and haunting, sending a shudder through your limbs. "That stare...it makes me fucking want things..."

Your eyes widened, his words wrapping around you like a vice, constricting your thoughts.

"Things...like what?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible.

Mattheo ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair, the veins in his hands standing out in stark relief, a silent testament to the intensity of his emotions. His eyes, usually so sharp and controlled, were now clouded with a raw, primal desire, a longing that had been hidden for far too long.

"Things like my fist in your hair and my cock in that pretty fucking mouth..." he growled, his voice cracking with the weight of his desire. "Things like bending you over in the middle of that party just to show every asshole out there who you belong to..."

Your mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spinning out of control, unable to comprehend anything except the burning desire that consumed you.

"Holy fuck..." the words escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of the moment. "Mattheo, I...."

Mattheo's eyes, darker than you'd ever seen them, searched yours desperately. "Can I touch you, Raven?" he pleaded, his voice a raw, heartfelt plea. "Please, let me fucking touch you."

In response, you barely managed to nod, your throat tight with anticipation. And then, his lips crashed onto yours with a fervor that made up for all the lost time, all the weeks of distance and silence. His kiss was passionate, demanding, a fiery reunion of lips and souls that ignited a wildfire between you two. His hands, warm and possessive, found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, sealing the gap that had kept you apart for far too long.

In that moment, every wall you had built around your heart crumbled, the fragments falling away like ash in the wind. You surrendered to the storm that was Mattheo Riddle, his touch setting your skin ablaze, his kiss a tempest that swept you off your feet. He was your drug, your haunting addiction, an irresistible pull that defied reason and logic. No matter how far you tried to run, no matter the crazy measures you took to stay away, you always found yourself right back where you started--entangled in his arms, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of his presence.

Mattheo broke the kiss, his hands gripping you as if he feared you might vanish into thin air. His lips trailed down to your jawline, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against your skin. "I can taste your fucking pain, Raven...is that because of me?"

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. "Yes," you admitted, your vulnerability laid bare before him. "Having experienced both, I'm not sure what hurts more...intense feeling, or the absence of it..."

"The absence...without a fucking doubt," he whispered, his touch on your skin sending electric sparks through your veins. His presence felt overwhelming, his breath warm against your neck in the dimness of the closet. "I know he's good for you...I know he's every fucking thing that you need...but I-"

"No." Your hands tightened around his neck, nails digging into his skin. "He could be fucking everything and more...he's just...he's not you."

Mattheo's teeth grazed your earlobe, a shiver running down your spine as your words spun in the silence between your bodies. Your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline in the midst of a storm.

"Better men could have you, Raven...I won’t deny that," he admitted, his voice a husky murmur against your skin. "But they'll have to get through me, now...I will leave such a fucking imprint on your soul that anyone you entertain after me will have to physically know me in order to fucking attempt to understand you..."

His declaration felt like a promise, an unspoken commitment that bound you to him in a way that transcended mere words. In that moment, you realized that you were not just giving in to desire; you were surrendering to something far more profound and all-encompassing. Mattheo wasn't just another flame to be extinguished; he was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, leaving behind scorched earth and a desire that defied reason.

You pulled him closer, sealing the unspoken pact with a fervent kiss, letting the intensity of your emotions guide your actions. In that dim closet, amidst the whispers of Slytherin secrets and the echoes of your tangled past, you found solace in Mattheo's arms, embracing the chaos that came with wanting someone you shouldn't, knowing that in the end, the heart wants what it wants, regardless of the consequences.

The air in the closet felt charged with a potent blend of desire and desperation as you pulled away, gasping for air. The intensity of the moment coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless and exhilarated. Your eyes locked onto Mattheo's, your voice raw and unsteady, yet laced with conviction.

"You might be bad…so fucking bad for me, Mattheo," you whispered, your words hanging in the small space between you, "but I fucking want you...there's no one else..."

“Fucking hell, Raven…” Mattheo let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slithering up to grip your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. His stormy eyes bore into yours, his voice a gravelly murmur, carrying the weight of his emotions. “You’re my little devil, aren’t you?”

You smirked. “Yes…I am…”

"I'm in deep, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath warm and sweet. "Merlin knows we both feel it...you hold my fucking fate, so seal it…”

With those words, you closed the distance between you yet again, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, his hands slithering down to grip your backside with enough force to make you groan into his mouth. And just as things began escalating, just as your hands were trailing their way down the front of his body, reaching for his belt, there was a knock at the door.

"Fifteens up."

————————

Find seventeen->

#harry potter #mattheoriddle #mattheosmut #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #theoriddlesmut #theodorenottsmut #theo nott x reader #theodore smut #theo nott smut #theodore nott x reader #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #Tom riddle #tomriddle smut #tomriddlesmut #tomriddle x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #theo riddle #riddle smut #riddle x reader #riddlesmut

[endereies]

Addicted 2 U - Chris Sturniolo

Contains: Sub!Chris (kinda), Drug-usage (be smart people), Blowjob, Hair pulling, don't like - don't read. Let me know if i missed anything<3

Author's notes: This is my first time writing smut so I hope it's good loll

word count: 2975

I had been to many parties in my life, fuck, I hosted half of them. But I never did anything crazy. I only provided, sometimes that drove me crazy. People around me were constantly inhaling smoke and I could only sit back and watch as the small embers burn and lit up in the cherry, making their faces glow against the night.

I had never had the urge to smoke and watching everyone get high was always an experience, typically leading to me taking care of everyone and making sure no one ever went overboard.

I was stressed.

-

I had been forced by some random kids at my college to host another party, only as a gateway to sell drugs to other students who shared the same cravings. It was a constant I was forced to adapt to, whether I liked it or not.

I had the same few people come up to me and most of the time the conversations reached around the same bends.

Most.

Chris has always managed to drag me in to some sort of long conversation, it made me feel like I wasn’t just used as a gateway to safely get high. Even if he had tried to convince me one or twice…

-

“Cmon y/n, you have never even wondered what it is like?” I had tried to walk to my lessons a long time ago but Chris had caged me in his presence enough that I had given up ten minutes ago.

“Of course I have wondered, but I don’t care enough to go along with anything.” I roll my eyes at him and try to turn away but he grabs my wrists and twists my body back towards him again.

“We both know that isn’t true” I provide him with a lack of a response and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve seen you at those parties, your eyes trace the blunts every single time. It’s the one thing you pay attention to other than those people who beg for ‘secret spots’ in your house.

“The fuck do you know, you are always out your mind whenever I see you. Nate had to drag you out last time.” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping he will try and drop the subject soon.

“I had a new kind, ma. That ain’t fair…” He feigns a pout, not holding it for long without any giggles.

“Whatever, look. Just be at my place at seven. I’m hosting.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He leaves with that same stupid grin on his face.

-

The party had started an hour ago and I had landed myself in the gardens outside faster than I would’ve liked. My tie hung loosely around my neck and the top button of my shirt was undone. Already, someone had thrown up in front of me. Definitely the effects of previous substances but it was enough to dampen my mood and force me for some fresh air.

“Hey ma, nice outfit. Shame you chose outside as your runway.” I hear Chris’s voice from in front of me but I don’t bother enough to respond in the same manner as him.

“What.”

“You alright y/n?” He kneels down, his knees meeting to damp grass just so that he can see my face, full of mixed emotions.

“Some bitch nearly threw up on me, thankfully she didn’t but I can’t say the same to the houseplants.” I sigh and look away from him.

“Already?” My head nods in response.

“Well…Why are you out here then?” His voice seems gentler and calmer, noticing his normal attitude won’t get him anywhere.

“The smell was strong; the people are pissing me off and I have a headache from the shit music they are playing on repeat. But that’s nothing new…”

“Mind if I smoke?” He practically ignores the last sentences I give him and pulls out a poorly wrapped blunt that seems like it’s been stuffed into his pocket for a little bit too long.

“Whatever.”

He takes one of the garden chairs and drags it over the grass to sit close to me. As close as the seats would allow before the metal legs scrapped each other.

A small spark emits from an old red lighter before it glows with an orange flame. The light breeze shakes it and weakens the strength, making it have to stay alight longer before it managed to light the blunt. Chris holds the blunt between his lips, holding it there while putting the lighter in his pocket, inhaling weakly. It takes a few seconds before a cloud of smoke exits between Chris’s lips.

I didn’t mean to stare but the way the fire lights up his face in the dark was somewhat mesmerising. I could just be the awful night I was having but everything just seemed so much more appealing.

I suddenly grab the blunt from Chris’s hand and place it in between my own fingers and bring it to my lips and breath in. Big mistake.

I don’t even get a change to hold in the smoke before it exits my lungs harshly, scrapping my throat as it arises.

“Woah woah, y/n. Jesus are you okay?” His touch immediately burns into my back as he soothes it with his palm. “Take it easy…”

I can’t respond to him without producing weak coughs.

“If you really want to do it, I can show you?”

I’ve definitely had a shit day if I am really debating getting high. I don’t want to openly admit it so I nod my head slowly.

“Okay…I’ll show you how first, yeah?” I study his motions as he hollows out his cheeks slightly and allows more space to inhale, the ember’s light glows a little brighter when he breathes in. The blunt rests between his index and middle fingers and he draws it away from his mouth. Chris tilted his head away from mine and blows out the smoke into the cold air and I watch as it slowly disappears.

“Here.” His hand moves next to mine and I shakily grab the blunt.

Was I really doing this?

I bring it to my lips and exhale softly before placing it into my mouth.

“Try and relax and rest it just between your lips…” His voice trails off, putting his focus into adjusting my grip on the blunt.

“Like this?” My voice is meek as I try not to blow out the blunt.

“Better, ma. Now, inhale it slowly, once you feel a sting I want you to stop and hold it in.”

I try and take a long and deep breathe but the stinging comes sooner than later. I manage to hold it in my lungs for a few seconds before I’m forced to exhale quickly out of my nose with a slight cough. I shut my eyes as they start to water. Chris immediately takes the blunt from my fingers and I cough a little harsher now.

“There you go, not bad for your first time.” He smiles at me, taking the blunt between his own lips again while he waits for me to calm myself.

“That wasn’t as bad as the first time.” I shake my head as I cough one last time.

“This is a stronger one y/n, I’d rather you not take any huge amount of this, alright?” His tone isn’t as gentle and when he faces me his expression isn’t anything but serious.

“Yeah...sure.”

-

Chris and I had swapped between this blunt a few times and it had really started to hit me now, everything was dream-like. My vision lacked behind my brain and caused me to feel dizzy when I laughed too much or moved my head a little quickly. We kept on giggling to ourselves and playfully making jokes to one another.

“Fuck, I think I am feeling this now.” I smile pathetically at him, no longer being able to fully control my expressions.

“Yeah? Good. That’s when the good shit starts to happen, ma.” His eyes linger on mine as I take the blunt between my lips and take a deep inhale of the smoke. I watch his gaze fall to my lips even after the blunt is back in his hand again. When he looks back up a smirk is plastered on his face and I immediately try to compose myself.

Chris takes one final puff of smoke and put out the blunt, smashing it between the grass and the sole of his shoe. He looks over to me but I’m already staring at him.

“Everything okay?”

“You’re pretty.”

I don’t even think about the words I’m saying anymore to him, I’m too gone to care.

“Is that so?” He smiles sheepishly at my, gazing back down to my lips.

“Very much so. I’ve always noticed that.” A silence falls between us as we edge close to each other, his face only being a few inches away from mine.

I let out a shaky breath once I finally acknowledge the distance shortening between us.

“Do I make you nervous, y/n?”

The warmth of our breath mingled between us before our lips finally meet each other’s.

The gentle pressure was enough to make me lose my mind and send a shiver down my spine. Chris’s fingers wrapped around the edge of my jaw, pulling me slightly closer to him. His teeth graze my lower lips slightly and I open my mouth for him to gain better access. I feel him smile against me and the way his hand traced my arm had me intoxicated.

I slowly pull away from him, wanting to catch my breath and his gaze remains locked on my lips, slightly coated in his saliva. The fixation makes me instantly clench my thighs tightly together.

His palm rolls off my arm and places itself on to my hip, using his thumb to press small circles into my skin. He remains looking at me softly before placing his lips on mine again. I accept his touch almost instantly and I feel his hand that was on jaw snake around to the back of my neck, wanting to pull me closer.

He relaxed his body with the aid of the weed and sighed into the kiss. I laid my hands on to his thighs and slowly dragged them upwards. A deep sigh emits from him as my hands etch closer. He breaks the kiss and looks down to my palm, watching it with a dazed expression.

“Is this okay…?” I look down in the same direction as him and inch my hand so that I stop just below his dick.

He hums in response and nods his head eagerly, a tent clearly forming under his jeans.

Before I move my palm, he pulls my head towards me with his hand still on my neck and kisses me softly again. I use this to my advantage and I shift my hand so that I’m gently palming Chris through his clothing, but I don’t apply enough pressure for any major satisfaction. Even so, I earn a light whimper from Chris and it becomes harder to resist to apply more force.

“Please...don’t be a tease, ma.” His voice is gentle against my lips and I feel his warm breath on my skin, making me smile in to the kiss.

I was definitely being hit harshly with the effects of the weed, while I appreciated Chris’s appearance, I would never openly admit that. Let alone palm his dick, just after we kiss for the first time. I had always known that he was an attractive person and I often caught myself staring. And I bet he knew that too since he often caught me in a daydream while sheepishly smiling at him.

I find myself following his words and I break away from the kiss so that I can move from the chair to the wet grass beneath me.

His eyes look in to mine, practically begging me to touch him.

I keep my eyes on him while I brush my hands over his jeans and up towards his belt, slowly undoing it. I pull his jeans down past his waist and to his thighs.

I palm him again slowly and I see his head tilt backwards, making sure that I apply more pressure this time. I play with the waistband of his boxers and slowly pull them down to meet his jeans.

I stare at his dick and reality set in for a moment. Being high was mixing with my brain but at this point I was too far gone to care about that. It was something I would leave for future me to figure out.

I wasn’t going to overthink this and I just leant forward to kiss the tip of Chris’s dick and softly lick over it.

“Fuck…” His words fall softly from his lips in a whisper.

I continue to softly kiss the tip before licking a stripe down from his base to his tip and taking him in my mouth. A faint groan emits from Chris and his back arches slightly from the stimulation. He let his legs fall more to the sides which allowed me to etch closer. My mouth withdrawals from his cock and I smile at the hitched breath he takes from the loss of contact.

I swirl my tongue around my mouth whilst I gather saliva which drips off my tongue and falls on to the tip of his dick. It slowly flows down the side and I push the remaining amount down with my palm. My eyes fixate on Chris’s face and I drag my hand up and down his dick, torturingly slow. Looking back down towards me, Chris moans softly at the sound of my saliva over his skin, the weed making this experience more heightened for the both of us.

“Does this feel good Chris?” I mumble quietly against the skin of his thigh that I nip and kiss at.

“Fuck yeah, don’t stop…” He moans through his words breathlessly, the tone of my voice making his hips jerk into my palms.

I look back down to his dick and lean in so that my face is directly in front of his dick, making sure he keeps his eyes on me like a dog playing fetch. Groans echo through my ears once I take him in my mouth, letting my tongue glide across his skin. I take a few inches into my mouth and slowly bob my head up and down, making sure that I work with the rest in my hand.

One of his hands grips on to the sides of the chair, his knuckles turning white as he tries to remain still while the other hand finds its way to the back of my head. His fingers brush over my hair, almost reassuring me before he grabs a fistful into a make-shift ponytail.

After working around his tip for a few moments, something in me snaps and I deepthroat him, catching us both off guard. His hips rut towards my mouth as his dick hits the back of my throat and I gag slightly at the sensation.

A whine leaves Chris’s throat when I remove my mouth from him.

“You okay baby?” The name falls so casually from his lips and it grabs my attention quickly. “You don’t have t- fuck”

I draw out a long moan as I take his deep into my throat once again, getting past the constant need to gag. When I do gag, I try and not pull off completely and work around the tip again.

Chris decides that isn’t enough and uses the strands of hair he gathered to push my head back down onto his cock. Saliva drips from the corners of my mouth and I collect in my palm repeatedly, spreading it to the places my mouth can’t reach.

My eyes look back up to him, his face twisted in pleasure.

“If you keep looking at me l-like that I’m gonna c-cum, ma.” I hum in approval, sending vibrations down his dick. His grip on my hair tightens and pulls slightly whenever his hips jerk upwards.

I feel his dick twitch slightly in my mouth, signalling that he was close, so I slow down to tease him a little while longer.

“y/n…I’m close.” He moans breathlessly and pants through his words.

When he says this, I take him deep in my mouth, doing my best to supress my gags. He twitches again and his hips jerk up to hit the back of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens and he holds me in place.

“fuck..” He groans as he cums down my throat. I ignore the tears that prick at my eyes and swallow it all. My mouth leaves his dick but my hand remains pumping it to ride out his high. Small whimpers leave his lips once it starts to become too much and I look up at him, his face slightly fucked out.

“Was that okay?” I murmur quietly trying to break the silence.

“Ma, that was perfect, you looked so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” His words land heavily through his breaths but I smile up at him as he adjusts himself.

Chris is a little uneasy on his feet once his orgasm diminishes, the effects of weed only slightly weaker now. He pulls his boxers and jeans back up and looks me in the eyes as I follow suit and stand next to him. Fingers wrap around under my chin and pull me towards Chris for another kiss, allowing him to taste himself.

“I should get high with you more often, Chris” I speak against his lips making him pull back.

“Yeah? You’d be a fool to think this wasn’t happening again.”

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @sturniolosmind @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @mayhem-72 @luverboychris

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #x reader

[milksuu]

ᴀ ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀꜱʜ & ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ───── ♛

pairing: evil!hiccup x f!mute!reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: yandere, implied kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, mention of blood/violence, mention of death

synopsis: You regretted the day they left him for dead. And you’d regret the day you ever saw him again—he’d make sure of that.

A burnish gleam of orange blazed in the bleakness of night.

You watched from your hilltop window—the thatched roofs off the eastern slopes of Berk twisting and writhing in flames. Even from a distance, you heard the breaking moans of ceilings, the cracks and bends of collapsing wooden structures, and the piercing wails of scales met with sharp edges of iron. Despite The Red Death’s fall, dragon raids still plagued the lands.

Perhaps it was all a sign of retribution. 

You were told to stay within the safe confines of your home. Your father hadn’t wanted to risk your life, considering how precious you’d become. The next Seer in line after Gothi, gifted with spiritual wisdom, healing, and authority of officiating the next chief.

But the price to pay had been steep. 

The house was dark, not even the smallest candle lit. Nothing that would draw a glimmer of attention to the home. A creak ached the roof above, and you flitted your nose up to the rafters, drawing lines across the ceiling. Nothing but your shallow breaths filled the silent dark. 

The hearth then erupted with flame and spark, jolting you from back to neck bone. Had you any voice, a strangled scream would’ve fluttered out of your throat. Twisting, you had almost forgotten to breathe. A figure shrouded in shadow and leather stood beside the crackling firewood. Light and dark danced in an undulating battle across the strangers’ features–revealing a horrifying familiarity.

“Hope you don’t mind if I warm this place up a bit.” That voice, boy-ish in tone, lacked any hint of innocence or niceties. He stretched a gloved hand towards the licking flames, doing nothing to warm the ice coating his insides. “Couldn’t help but notice you looked a little cold and—alone.”

A snap of wood made you flinch; addressing him with quivering lips and dilated eyes. Your long-lost greeting didn’t forebode well.

Every piece of leather tightened around his body as he shifted. Turning to ensnare you within his talon like stare. When embers casted a sheen across his face, you braced against the sight. Soft features long since abandoned, reforged into a visage of cold iron. Carved and littered with scars and nicks across his furrowed brows, cheeks, and clenched jaw line.

“Well, this is kind of embarrassing. Wait, no. That’s not the word I was looking for. More like—disappointing. That sounds like a better fit. For you and everyone else here.” Hiccup stalked forward, a contraption of metal clanking and scratching against the splintering floors. Each step clanged through you, until he stood one heartbeat away. “After all these years, I’d thought you’d have a bit more to say than a blank stare. Every night, I dreamed about how this conversation would go. Just like how I dreamed things could be better than what they were. Funny how you can plan for things to go a certain way, but then…”

He pressed his hands at each side of your head, the glass window behind begging to crack from the pressure. His scent permeated, forcing you to swallow. Once smelling of spring honey and rolling glades, now sundered to singe your senses like bone ash and lightning storms. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s a little different.” He placed a calloused finger into the dip of your clavicle. He dug and dug until your pained gasp fell deaf to his ears. Tilting his head, he curled the lip of his mouth. “So, just like Gothi, you gave up your voice. Good—great, actually. This works out better for me.” 

The smile that crept over his lips never made it up to his eyes. Not like before. Those vibrant meadows sullied into a sickly, muddled green. Thick and ichorous. And dared you stare long enough, you could never trudge your way out. Although you already felt stuck within them, your hand slipped silently into the pocket of your dress, where your fingers brushed against the hilt of a dagger. 

You drew it a mere inch before his hand captured yours, twisting until he pried it into his possession.

“Come on. We both know you were never good at fighting.” He chuckled, wagging the sharpest point between your trembling eyes. “I’ll admit it. I wasn’t either back then. That’s something we had in common…until I had to be. Guess that didn’t work out in anyone’s favor on this wet piece of rock. Now, did it?”

Your vision blurred. Screams of the village roared in your ears. Screeches of dragons pierced through the air, engulfed in smoke and fire. Having consumed so much in its wake, you felt the heat of chaos leech into the glass. Searing your back pressed against it.

“Woah. Hey, don’t cry. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he swept a rough thumb over a falling tear stain. “Not all of them will die tonight. I mean, just think about it for a second. Can’t be chief and rule over a bunch of burnt corpses. How counterintuitive would that be?” 

“As for you though…” he continued, and your heart stalled as he traced the cold metal down your flush cheek and neck, pausing just above your breastbone. “I’m only standing here, watching everything and everyone turn to ash around us, all because of you. And don't tell me you don't remember. When you mended my leg. Somehow kept me from bleeding out. Just before the entire village abandoned me.” His clouded eyes narrowed down. “Including you.”

Releasing you from his pinning weight, your legs wobbled. As if he hadn’t just snatched your foothold underneath. Terror kept your feet webbed in place, watching as he twirled your dagger in his fingers like a child's play thing. Crouching near the fire, he mindlessly poked and prodded at the stoking wood. He picked away a scrap of charred chipping, before plunging the blade into the flank of the burning log. You gazed at him, chest tight, aching. How he hadn’t flinched when the fire slicked around his hand like oil.

He dragged the smoldering stump from the hearth, creating a scorched line. When the licks of fire seeped into the house floors, he rose, one vertebra at a time. 

“If I’m being honest, I probably would’ve done the same thing.” He unhooked a masked contraption from his belt buckle and tightened it over his face. The eye sockets were of yellow stained sea glass, and the mouth of it appeared like a muzzle of iron teeth. “Leave something already weak, then crippled to survive on its own. Gambling on the high-stakes of death. So sure of the outcome, no one bothered to turn over a shoulder.” Hellfire rose and swelled in the reflection of his mask. “Maybe they should’ve.” 

The rapid hunger of the hearth fire blazed and curled across the floor of the home. Heat lapped towards your skin, drawing out sweat from your pores. Dense smoke began filling the wooden death chamber. You inhaled the black snowflakes, searing your lungs once they melted inside you. You slapped a hard hand over your mouth, coughing and shuddering against it. A pang of panic willed your body to move. You attempted to open the window behind you, but to your horror, it had been welded to the frame. 

Your eyes watered, hugging the wall as you traced it to the door. When the handle clattered against your pulls and tugs, a ghostly laugh floated around you. The metal was bolted shut from the outside. A bout of nausea cramped your stomach. Fear darted your eyes toward the stairs, where the flames hadn’t yet reached—but soon. Perhaps the window of your room hadn’t been tampered with. 

You darted towards the steps, and before you could place one foot up, a black beast stalked from the darkness of the second floor.

The floating embers danced hauntingly over the onyx scales, and gashes rippled in the firelight. Revealing wounds healed twice, perhaps three times over. That body of night perfectly reflected it's master’s outward appearance.

And as you drowned in those feral slits of pure abandon, it was apparent they also shared the same broken, unmendable soul. 

“Oh. You remember Toothless, don’t you?” Your face paled, backing slowly as the Nightfury slithered down the steps like black ink. A predatory growl rumbled above the snapping and collapsing wood around you. Hiccup sauntered to the dragon’s side, patting the thick of his neck, pulsing with power. Another laugh at your expense. “Looks like he remembers you.”

You fought the claw of unconsciousness raking over every part of you. Choking, straining against your hand pathetically covering your mouth.

“Since you did me a favor back then, I’m going to give you one chance to make it up to me.” The mask muffled his voice, but the wickedness screamed, rattling your veins. “You can either choose to stay here and burn with the rest of Berk or…” he lifted a hand, hardly an invitation, but a devilish bargain. “You can choose me.”

In the thick of your pounding head and chest, you considered burning to death was the wiser option of the two. All that he was—what he’d inevitably become—held no promise of a life worth degrading yourself for. Nothing about you would be spared. And it wouldn’t be long till you dropped on hands and knees, begging for him to take your life. To end his drawn out game of torture. One he’d carefully crafted for years and years. 

Just for you, only for you.  

Still, you clung to life. A measly mortal thread. Your shaking hand lifted, painfully reaching for his fingertips. One step forward, and the world spun in wisps of red and black. Your lungs and heart throbbed, practically seizing. A calculated arm caught you, cradling you wholly, close as any lover would. 

“Good choice.” 

You heard the waning words of approval, and through the fading light of your vision, something fastened over your face. Your last conscious breath had been clean, airy—a pleasant contrast to the toxic fumes. 

Then, nothing.

#hiccup #hiccup x reader #hiccup imagines #hiccup haddock #httyd #httyd fanfiction #httyd x reader #httyd imagines #how to train your dragon #evil!hiccup #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #reader insert #x reader #fem reader

[chococolte]

god reader who like breaking genshin boys hearts ✧ ೃ  ͜  ⑅

word count. 2.7k

characters included. zhongli, childe, al-haitham, xiao

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, power dynamics, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au, kind of sad??idfk, in zhongli's its implied u were in bed with another iykwim, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. i hope you don't mind the characters i chose!!

They’re far too easy to mess with, you think. 

A brush of your fingers, the faint heat of your breath on their ear. A soft, decadent hand on their shoulder, the feeling of your warmth in the crook of their neck— small, barely tangible things. Barely meaningful things, yet they still coo for you all the same; still cling to you and beg for your attention. 

Still hunger for your touch, ravenous for what little scraps you'll give them. A glance has them wrapped around your finger, and a word barely considered praise has them at their knees. 

It shouldn't be this easy. You shouldn't find it this fun. But you do, anyway. 

The look on their faces. The look of shock, and intertwined sorrow. The worship still swirling inside their eyes. 

You should feel bad. And you do, in a way— but not nearly enough.

zhongli

Zhongli is aware he has no reason to be hurt. Not really.

You have no obligation to him. Not in the way he does you. You don't have to like him, if you find his worship of you too flimsy, too little. You don't have to love him. You don't have to share even an inkling of the same breadth of emotions he holds for you. You don't have to look at him, breathe in his vicinity, if you thought he was too foul to be around.

He shouldn't expect himself to be special to you.

He shouldn't have, to be precise. It was foolish, to begin with.

What is he that you have not already seen? What is he that you have not already toyed with before? What unique experience does he give you?

The answer is none. Zhongli serves no purpose other than to worship you.

That is all that he's good for. Zhongli should not have expected to be yours, he should not have allowed himself to dream of the possibility. He poisoned himself with thoughtful daydreams of what it would mean to be yours, beautifully and entirely. To be your consort. To be your spouse.

Such a wonderful dream. One his heart ached for; longed for with such a yearning that it hurt.

He should've been embarrassed. And he was— he kept it his shameful secret, one hidden behind closed doors and locked gates in the palace of his mind. But he wasn't embarrassed enough, wasn't ashamed enough to keep himself from getting lost in them.

Zhongli should've let the shame sear him until it was enough to keep you out.

It's a cruel thought. One he despises himself for thinking— to deny you? To even think of depriving you of anything at all? Sacrilege. But he thinks it anyway.

Zhongli never should've thought that maybe he could be the singular person by your side. The only one worthy of standing there, tall and proud. Imposing, and as he realizes now, a thought as arrogant as the god of war he used to be.

Even in the brief moment where the two of you were two embers dancing together on a single flame, he knew the moment would have to end eventually. You had many suitors, and he was merely one among many. Though he believed himself to be the most suitable, it was ultimately your choice; and he knew how likely it was for others to be among your favorites.

Though he knew, and though he had tried to prepare himself for the inevitability of being second in your heart— it still stung. His heart still broke in his chest, still shattered when he saw your legs tangled with another’s.

You looked up at him, and Zhongli could see it on your face. You didn't truly care whether he saw or not— and why should you? You were God. He was nothing, merely a tool to be used and discarded. You didn't try to fake remorse or guilt, only merely made note of his presence.

Then you continued, as if he wasn't there in the first place. As if it was normal. As if the two of you had not spent time together, as if he had not bent at his knees and declared his eternal devotion to you. As if he was truly just a follower to you; nothing more, nothing less.

It was to be expected. It was, and it still hurt. He knew it would happen, and he still felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and crushed. He had prepared for it, regulating himself so as to when it happened it would hurt less— and it still hurt.

It hurt more than he thought it would.

He was hoping you'd prove him wrong.

childe

Childe knew he alone wouldn't be enough for you.

You burn like the brightest star. Your love is the heat of a hearth; Childe sinks in when snow frosts his fingers and lets your warmth melt him. Your wrath is like a tempestuous storm, like the rage of the sun. He fears when you will eventually turn on him, but for now, he basks in your light.

Your favorite, you called him. You touched him with fondness, curling your fingers in his hair. When Childe was with you, he was in heaven. His heart threatened to burst with so much adoration and reverence he felt almost dazed. When without you, he mourned the loss of your presence; tears cascaded down his cheeks like a quiet elegy, lamenting every moment not near you.

You don't come to him as often, now. Others have sparked your interest. Childe can't blame you. No, he could never blame you— you are perfection incarnate. You can do no wrong, no matter how hard his heart twists and churns in his chest. No matter how hard it is to breathe when he sees you show affection to another.

Sometimes, he thinks you do it on purpose. He always hates the thought when it visits, denying its existence. He feels sick at the mere implication.

You are kind. You are benevolent. You kept him company in the abyss, let him take comfort in your presence. You wouldn't do this to him. He knows you wouldn't.

Yet the thought takes credence. Every morning that goes by without you glancing at him is hell. You pretend like he does not exist.

“Why?” He manages to croak out. His voice is weak, throat raw from his cries. “Why don't you want me anymore?”

“You're not interesting now,” you say. Your expression does not change, not even the slightest tremor of your brows. You look at him, and Childe realizes he never really mattered to you, not in the same way he cared for you.

It breaks him. Your words haunt him. He should hate you, he knows— he should detest you. He should heave until he is free of you. Yet despite what he should feel, Childe’s heart still hungers. It still whispers for you, begging and pleading; it still thrums in his chest for your presence, for the echo of your voice.

Years of worship do not disappear within a moment. They do not disappear upon your rejection, upon your refusal of him; they burst at the seams and demand retribution. They burst at the seams and think that there is no way for this to be you.

Childe has failed you. He must've, in some way or another— he did something you didn't like, and now this is his punishment. This is his trial by fire. He hopes that by the end of it, when he is scorched by flame and smoldering, that he is finally worthy of you.

Cries erupt from his throat, and sobs shake his entire body. It hurts to breathe, hurts to exist when he knows he has angered you. As though everything he has ever known and loved is crashing down on him.

There's a sick feeling pulsing in his chest, like a separate heartbeat. It only beats to make him suffer. He chokes on it with every hum of its rhythm.

Childe doesn't mind that you have others. Have as many as you like, but let him be one. Even if he is nothing, even if he is disgusting to you, barely worth your effort, barely worthy enough to worship you— let him exist near you, let him breathe and know that the same air has tasted you.

No matter how hard it is to stop himself from harming whoever’s gained your attention, he will suffer through it. No matter how hard it is to keep himself composed, to stop himself from grabbing onto your legs and begging you to please let him be your favorite again, he will suffer through it.

He should be happy with this much.

al-haitham

He was a fool.

Al-Haitham thought it only rational that you chose him. He was intelligent, an erudite scholar; he had knowledge of many things, ready for you to inspect whenever you wished. He had kept himself well-read before, and his desire to please you only exacerbated it.

He had his insecurities, but Al-Haitham thought of them as nothing but intrusive. Nonsense. There was no one more suitable for you than him. There was no way you'd choose another over him— you had told him as much. You had whispered softly in his ear and told him that he was all that you wanted.

Why would you lie? And though he had thought of what it would be like to be just another of your lovers, just a singular out of a whole, he never let himself linger. His heart beats in his chest erratically every time, and if you knew how quickly his composure broke just thinking of being nothing but second in your heart— the shame would eat at him.

He realizes now that to ever assume just one would be enough for your appetite was foolish. It is shameful, humiliating to think of how long it took for him to realize; to satiate your hunger he would have to be perfect, not just a jewel that shines a bit brighter than the rest. He would never be enough by himself. You were a god, above all others, and he was merely a mortal, beside himself with pride.

And it hurt more to know that he could not unlove you. It was part of him now, stitched into the make of his soul— he could not erase you, could not scrub himself free of you. To rip you out would be an agonizing existence. One that he did not wish to live, despite how it churned his blood and burned his throat.

You are bright. What lured him to you was the comfort you brought, the peace of mind you elicited.

There is no more peace, now. Only quiet anxiety and sickening thoughts, a lump in his throat and pain in his heart. There is no more comfort, no serenity— only the constant, festering parasite of a thought that he failed you in some way. He wasn’t enough, and though Al-Haitham has enough self-awareness to know that the idea is illogical, he still clings onto it; he failed you, but perhaps he could prove himself again.

It is a thought without credence. It is an idea without reason. Al-Haitham resolves himself to do whatever he has to do, though he knows it is ultimately meaningless. It is a fight without adrenaline, life or death without the urgency; it does not matter, not to you.

You do not serve him the same attention. You do not smile at his little mannerisms, do not inquire about his well-being. He doesn’t matter to you, not anymore.

He should accept it. Better to do it now. Better to internalize it, better to let himself revel in it— better to let him forget the moments he had, better to let him forget how he was once special to you.

You are a god. He is not. He wonders if that is the reason why. If it was not a failure of his own, but an aspect of himself that he cannot change that made you turn him away. If it was some unchangeable, immovable part of him that he could never hope to dissect. Never hope to get rid of, never hope to alter— if it was just him that you were unhappy with.

It is a startling thought. And it hurts him in every way, as all the hours he spent to improve himself, to cater his very being to your likes, were all for naught.

Nothing he could do could make you choose him again.

xiao

Xiao thought he had finally received the peace he had longed an eternity for when you chose him.

When with you, he did not ache. He did not feel listless, like he was merely dragging his feet behind him— he felt alive; the way mortals feel, the way he had not felt for a millennium. Your touch sent gales of ecstasy down his spine, a certain serenity he had not found anywhere else. Your voice felt like a dreamer's happiness; soft and soothing, clouds dancing at your fingertips.

Safety embraced him when in your presence. You were love itself, blinding and scintillating. Xiao would lay down his life for you, his god— the only one who matters.

He had never felt so loved before. And Xiao knew he never would again, so he clung. He clung like if he let go you would disappear, disperse into the stars that hung in the sky. He clung like if he let go he would die.

Maybe that is why you threw him away.

Xiao knows he isn't your ideal. He is silent, aloof, and forbidding. He is never inviting, never warm and kind; though he melts when with you, it is never enough. He should be more. You deserve as much.

He is always fearful. Always straining his ears when you're with another, eyes piercing. Self-hatred curls in his chest and twists around his heart, but he doesn't stop himself— you are everything, and he is nothing more than a Yaksha; replaceable, easy to discard— the dread is endless, an incessant drive to be assured of where he stands inside your heart.

You are everything, and he is nothing.

When Xiao catches a glimpse of you with another, he tries not to let it get to him. He swallows down his bitterness, the choking feeling of betrayal. What is he that you could not find in another? He should've long expected it. He was foolish not to have seen it sooner.

But he can’t stop thinking of his time by your side. Those brief moments of absolute peace, where he felt nothing but love. Where he could only feel you, utterly and wholly, and how much he adored every second of it. How much he loathed every moment away from you. He thinks of your hands running through his dark hair, of your nails against his scalp— and how he will never experience it again.

Xiao is used to loss. He has had centuries of time to grow accustomed to loneliness. He has lost those close to him, suffered blow after blow. He is supposed to be used to disappointment. He is supposed to be accustomed to an aching heart, to no longer clench his jaw out of pain; he is supposed to be able to move on with ease, without thinking of what used to be.

But he can’t bring himself to do that, this time. His mind lingers. The ghost of your smile still hangs in the air, still suffocates him every time he tries to rest his mind. He still sees you whenever he closes his eyes, your face shining like stars in the dark. He still hears your voice, still feels the weight of your touch— and he still wants you, despite how much he should hate you for taking his heart in your hands and crushing it.

Xiao still wants to be the one you love. He still wants to love you, to kiss your hands and feet. He wants to worship you, to pray to you at the bottom of your throne. But you’ve thrown him away. You don’t want him anymore. You have others who you like more, who don’t tremble at the slightest of your touch. Who are more deserving of standing beside you.

He has lost again, though he still clings onto you.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #sagau zhongli #sagau xiao #sagau childe #sagau alhaitham #yandere zhongli #yandere childe #yandere xiao #yandere alhaitham #yandere al haitham #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #gender neutral reader

[callsigngrim]

Eldritch Konig xGN reader

MDNI!

The winner of the poll!

Tentacles smut Konig is cocky

No physical description of reader no description of gender.

Please enjoy!

The cave was dark and moist. Filled with the sound of pitter patter from the storm raging outside. Of Course you just had to go on a hike in the middle of nowhere alone.

It also didn't help that you felt like you were being watched.

Sighing you walk into the cave deeper hoping to find a dry patch where you could hopefully make a small fire and try to get some sleep without freezing to death.

As you make your way deeper into the cave you're amazed to find the walls of the cave lined with drawings!

They looked old depicting people who seem to be worshipping some sort of otherworldly creature. It looks huge adorned in gold with tentacles sprouting from its back?

You shake your head. Deciding that the small patch of dry ground near the end of the cave would be sufficient enough. You quickly pile the wood you had briskly grabbed onto the floor using some dry leaves a kindling to get the fire going.

It's slowly starting to get a little warmer. Enough that you can take off the heavy jacket that was completely drenched from the heavy pelts of rain.

You use your bag as a makeshift pillow while you snuggle into your sleeping bag.

It wasn't ideal laying on the ground with who knows what crawling around but you were too tired to care. You just hoped you didn't wake up with spiders in your hair. As you shifted to get into a more comfortable position you didn't pay any attention to the walls that seemingly started to glow a faint yellow. Nor did you see the tentacles painted on the walls start to move. Twisting and curling away from the paint. 

And forming into solid pieces. The creature that had previously just been a painting had magically emerged hidden in the shadows watching the frail little human.

You were a tempting little thing shivering from the cold. Oh he couldn't wait to warm you up. After all, you were the one who set him free. 

You were shaking from the cold, the fire having long since burned out leaving a few glowing embers that hardly gave any heat.

You were going to die. Alone and cold with a bunch of weird paintings on the wall… Were the fuck were the paintings?

As you're laying there trying to figure out if you've officially lost your mind due to the cold. Sometimes in the corner catches your eye. A massive form is standing there in the shadows and it's definitely looking at you. Glowing red eyes piercing through the darkness. You make a move to get up before you realise that something has slithered it way around your legs and arms.

You jolt screaming begging for whatever has you to please let go!

"Careful" the word echoes through your mind. It sounds human enough but you know it's not. No human is that big or has extra appendages sprouting from their backs.

"Please don't hurt me" you whisper hoping that the monster will spare you.

The tentacle have started slithering around you pulling the sleeping bag off and lifting you effortlessly into the air

"I will not harm you small human I simply wish to repay you for setting me free" that damn voice echoing in your head again.

"Repay me how'? "why"?

I didn't do anything you plead.

The dark tendrils pull you closer to the creature holding you at eye level. "Ah but you did you freed me from these walls and for that I have to repay you little one".

You swallow thickly it's unnerving being this close to the creature. It's watching you waiting for you to reply.

You could struggle but what if it decides to kill you if you try to fight?

"How would you repay me"? You regret asking the moment the monster's eyes start glowing even brighter.

"With pleasure little one" its voice comes out almost like a purr.

Gods this is terrifying  and humiliating at the same time. "If I let you pleasure me you have to promise not to kill me".

The creature seems taken aback.

"Why would I hurt such a sweet little thing"? It sounds almost amused.

"I'll have you begging me to take you over and over again sweet thing". You let out a whimper at that. Fuck that's not supposed to turn me on you think.

As if sensing your sudden arousal. The creature lets out a growl. "Konig" it says and you're left confused.

"My name sweet one so you know what to scream after I make you come on my cock"

"Fuck" you moan out he's someking of eldritch monster who could rip you to pieces at any given moment. But here you are dangling from its tentacles moaning like some whore.

"Please take me"

Different things happen all at once. Konig moves forward pulling you in for a kiss that leaves you absolutely breathless. Its not sweet or soft no its primal almost possessive in the way his long thick tongue explores your mouth. Next is the way the tentacles wrapped around you rip away your clothes and underwear none too gently leaving you exposed to the cold.

Then you pulled impossibly close to the creature as two more of his tentacles start exploring your exposed body, finally stopping at your nipples. They start twisting and pulling leaving your nipples hard and sensitive.

You panting when he pulls away only to let out a gasp as the tentacles that are wrapped around you legs spread you open leaving you completely exposed to Konig.

He lets out an appreciative growl. Slowly one of his tentacles move down to circle your entrance. The tentacle is covered in a thin layer of slime that it spreads around your hole slicking it up. Before it slowly starts to enter you inch by inch. You're moaning his name just like he promised. The two tentacles that are toying with you nipples start to speed up twisting and pulling leaving you high of the pleasure your subjected to.

It feels so good the way he moves you how he wants and how you entire body feels on fire everywhere he touches you

You're so lost in the pleasure that you don't see his huge cock leaking all over your belly as he moves you up and down his tentacles preparing you for what's to come.

"Fuck please I'm so close" your so close teetering on the edge just a little more and you be coming.

"Yes little one come for me show me how good it feels".

It hits you hard you're screaming his name as you ride out your orgasm.

You breathless but he's not finished yet.

He pulls his tentacle out of you slowly while you moan at the loss of him inside you.

He grabs you in his arms you back pressed against his toned chest.

You don't have time to catch your breath before he pushes inside you bottoming out in one swift stroke. He's big, filling you completely. You can feel every vein on his cock as he starts thrusting into you. His pace is brutal as he slams into murming soft praises as he fucked you deep and hard.

You were both moaning lost in the throes of pleasure. He was filling you up so well. You didn't have a single thought in your head.

"Fuck I'm close little one come with me let me feel you"

You both came yelling out as he filled you to the brim with his seed. Gods it felt amazing so much so that you blacked out from the intense orgasm you were having.

Looking down at your slumped form Konig couldn't help but chuckle. Poor little thing couldn't handle the pleasure he gave them.

Pulling the sleeping bag closer Konig layed down with you on top completely knocked out; he covered your sleeping form with the bag to keep you warm. You were so small compared to him. Knocked out from taking his cock once.

"I suppose we're going to have to work on that won't we little one soon you won't be able to get enough of my cock"...

#konig #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig cod #Eldritch konig #eldritch #konig smut

[pastel-paramour]

Mutually Assured Attachment

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.9k Tags/Content Warnings: SKK x F!Reader, Dom!Dazai, Sub!Chuuya, Sub!Reader, Voyeurism, Brief Alcohol Consumption, Brief Smoking, gun play, knife play, edging/teasing, Oral (F & M Receiving), Overstim, Gagging, Begging, Shotgunning (Smoke, Fluid) Okay... Here we go... First original post. I'm considering additional parts exploring this strange little... dynamic these silly little men have with you. Mind the tags, and away we go!

The two of you fell tangled through the door, your collar bunched in Chuuya’s fists. He kicked the door with his heel, and the resounding slam shook you loose of his lips with a breathless chuckle.

“Shhhhh! Chuuya! Someone’ll catch us!” You scolded in a stage whisper.

He leaned over you, hands roaming freely over your breasts, your ribs, your waist, your hips, all the way down to give your ass a hard squeeze, pulling you against him, his already hard cock straining against your thigh.

“Like I give a damn.” He says against your smiling lips, quickly arrested in a kiss.

You ran your hands over his shoulders as he shrugged out of his coat, and the two of you waltzed backward into the room in a clumsy tango. When you collided against the far wall, you managed to pry your body apart from his enough to get your fingers around his belt. The buckle yielded with an affirmative clink, his zipper following suit soon after. Your own remained untouched at the side seam of your skirt, Chuuya instead opting to hike the crisp black fabric up wholesale to get his access to your aching pussy.

You slung your leg over his hip and traced unintelligible patterns into the neatly starched fabric of his rapidly disheveling waistcoat. He palmed your breast, and your head thumped against the wall while he ground into you, teeth and tongue working your neck.

“Well, well, well…”

Your heart seized in your chest, Chuuya’s eyes went wide as he whirled around, fixing his fly but otherwise leaving his belt undone, “Dazai!”

Indeed, in the shadow of the doorway loomed Dazai, moonlight glinting copper in his eyes, a light smile curling his lips. You pulled your skirt down to cover yourself.

“Fraternizing between colleagues? And an executive, no less…” He tutted, “You darling, I can understand, but Chuuya… You should know better.” He brought his hand to his face, like his voice, dripping with drama.

You shrank into yourself as Dazai crossed the room. Chuuya, on the other hand, only scowled, untucked his cigarette case from his breast pocket, and took one between his lips. Dazai’s face darkened, and before Chuuya could even put away his lighter, Dazai had snatched the cigarette from his lips.

“Hey!”

“It’s rude to smoke in front of a lady.” He scolded. Only, he didn’t put it out or discard it. Instead, he took it between his own lips. The ember glowed cherry in the dark as he took a long drag and held it, snuffing the rest in an ashtray on the dresser. Dazai hooked a finger beneath Chuuya’s choker, his other hand taking his jaw. If you hadn’t known better, you would have believed Chuuya’s eyes softened, even glazed just a bit, as Dazai pulled his face to meet his; lips just shy of touching, before exhaling a rolling cloud of smoke onto his waiting tongue. Dazai’s hooked finger tugged firmly down, down, down until Chuuya sank to his knees, Dazai towering over him.

You twisted your legs together. You had never seen this side to Chuuya before. He looked completely lost to the world, but Dazai never let an eye off you.

“Like what you see, Darling?” he smirked.

Your face flushed, and you averted your eyes in a vain attempt to save face.

“Don’t be ashamed, sweetness, I’ve learned you can get Chuuya to do all kinds of amazing things.”

“Fuck you, Dazai…” Chuuya panted.

“Ohh..” Dazai whined in mock pity, and took Chuuya’s face in his hand again, “We’re getting to that. Now-”

He released all hold on Chuuya, and turned his attention to you, sweeping up your hand in his “Sweet Belladonna…” a kiss that was anything but chaste pressed to each knuckle, “Would you like me to show you his true potential?”

You were flabbergasted, quite honestly too stunned to speak. Here was Dazai, Osamu Dazai, who somehow waltzed into this room and the entire world bent around him, even, most astonishingly, Chuuya.

He huffed a small laugh at your silence, and took the initiative once again, pulling you against his chest.

“First of all, let’s put this back where it was…” His fingertips skimmed along the hem of your skirt, goosebumps raced along your thighs as he pulled the fabric up over your hips and ass. In his wanderings, his hands glanced along the delicate lace of your panties. Feigned shock lighted his face.

“Very nice…” He teased, flicking his thumb beneath the elastic. You squealed at the snap against your skin, but still you didn’t push him away. He squared his hands on your hips and turned you around to face Chuuya, who’s blue eyes shone silver to Dazai’s copper, flashing dangerously as he took in your body, and Dazai’s hands upon it.

“Then…” Dazai continued, pulling you backwards until his knees collided with the mattress. He pulled you both down so you were seated between his legs, back pressed against him. Before you knew it, his mouth was at the shell of your ear, chasing chills down your spine.

“Now here is where it gets very interesting…”

Chuuya’s eyes tracked Dazai’s bandaged hands from your hips, down your thighs, to the bend in your knees. He hooked his fingers featherlight beneath them, and pulled them apart, exposing your thinly clad cunt to the cool night air. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, eyes glazed but trained so intently on the apex of your thighs, not daring to come closer, despite so desperately wanting to.

A cool touch picked up your right hand, laying it palm up in his;

“And this is where you say-” He curled his fingers, and yours with them, “‘Come, Chuuya…’”

Chuuya, coming vaguely to his senses, sucked his teeth and moved to rise.

“Ah, ah, ah…” You gasped as Dazai hummed the warning against your ear and released your hand only to point downwards.

He cut a withering glare at Dazai, but in time, Chuuya sank back to his knees and crawled across the floor to his place between your feet, gazing expectantly up at you.

“Now you say, ‘very good, Chuuya’...”

Much to your surprise, Chuuya, Chuuya Nakahara pouted.

“I don’t want to hear that from you…” He muttered.

Dazai only chuckled before he turned back to you, “And now what do you suppose you say, hmmm?”

Your heart raced in your chest, the wind thoroughly knocked out of you when you spoke, “Please?”

If he only chuckled before, his shoulders now shook with laughter, “No, no, Bella…” He brushed his knuckles softly against your cheek, “You are the boss, now. You ask for nothing.” He whispered, casting a sidelong glance at a scowling Chuuya; “Say ‘thank you’, Chuuya.”

Dazai’s hands hooked your legs again, and pulled them further apart. Chuuya was able to quickly shake off his glare as he shuffled forward and pressed his face to the lacey apex of your thighs. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, loosing a shuddering breath before he raised his hands and paused.

He appeared to gnaw his cheek for a moment, a light flush dusting his cheeks. Dazai said nothing.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried you had erred somehow.

“I want-” he started, only to reconsider his words, “May I… take off my gloves?” He finished, eyes sidecast and fixed firmly to the floor.

You looked at Dazai for assistance, only for him to shrug and nod back to Chuuya.

“You… may…”

He slowly, deliberately rolled each glove off, one after the other before he returned to his task. He skated his newly bare fingers over your ankles, your calves, over your knees and around your thighs before lighting so gingerly on the soaked through fabric covering your cunt. His thumbs kneaded the flesh, glancing agonizingly close to your clit, and drawing some oh so necessary friction over it.

At length, he hooked a thumb over the lace barrier, and pulled it to the side. Cold air lapped at you, as Chuuya drew a long exhale over your center. His eyes flicked up to you again to see you worrying over your lip, and that damn Dazai looking so fucking smug, before he let his tongue peek out over his lips, closing them over your clit.

You gasped, your back arched away from Dazai but he held you firm against him while Chuuya lapped at your clit, drew circuits and figure eights around your lips, your entrance and back. The sweet sounds of your sticky pussy and gasping breath echoed into the night. It wasn’t long until your head rolled back to rest on Dazai’s shoulder, which he allowed himself to take some advantage of by sparing playful nibbles on your neck while he skirted his way up to cup your breasts, his cock granite hard and twitching against your back while Chuuya eddied you torturously closer to orgasm.

“Hmmm, you two are lucky I caught up to you when I did…” He mused idly, his hand relinquishing your breast to reach between you two to adjust himself.

“After all, if anyone else had found two people sneaking around a secure area like this, they might get a little nervous…” You dismissed his rambling, too lost in bucking your hips to grind on Chuuya’s tongue.

“And you know, some folks here, they can get a little…” You stilled as the cool edge of metal pressed to your temple, “trigger happy.”

Chuuya’s eyes flashed wide, “What the fuck, Dazai!”

“Oh hush, Chuuya.” Dazai chastised, free fingers flying out to entwine in autumn tresses, yanking his face back to your twitching cunt. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full. Besides… I think she likes it, don’t you, belladonna? Oh come on, say you do?” He pleaded.

Your attention fractured, split between Chuuya’s tentative licks at your most sensitive spots, eyes still trained on the gun to your head, and, well, then there was that…

“Ah, I see…” He hummed, removing the offending article, but before you could relax completely, you heard the hammer click back and saw the barrel extend out in front of you.

“Say you like it, or I’ll make him stop.” He said icily against your ear.

All at once, you were a whirlwind of feeling, your gut dropped, your heart thrummed, but still your cunt tightened as Chuuya continued haphazardly servicing your slit.

“O-okay!” You yelp, “I do! I like it, Dazai!”

Just then, without knowing what combination of the circumstances in which you found yourself led to this, your entire body seized up around Chuuya’s tongue. Your legs clamped over his ears and drew him impossibly closer to you until he could do little more than suck your keening clit until your muscles shook and ached with effort.

This seemed satisfactory to Dazai, because quickly thereafter the pistol disappeared from your field of view.

“Wow…” He purred, you could feel his smile curl against your skin as you gasped for breath, “I was only foolin’, but I think you really did like it… Ha! And they call me sick…” His arms wound around your shoulders and your waist while he nuzzled your neck.

Chuuya rested his hands on your thighs and scowled up at Dazai, “You knew, didn’t you?”

Dazai had the nerve to look hurt at the accusation, “And lucky I did, too!” He said, lithely dismounting from the bed to meander to the dresser behind Chuuya, “You two are hopeless when it comes to discretion.” Dazai busied himself with the decanter which glistered crystalline in the moonlight.

“You should really be thanking me…”

Chuuya whirled at that, “Thanking you?! For what?”

Dazai chuckled darkly, “Oh, you will…” His voice was low with an edge to it that seemed to hush even Chuuya into a cautious, but expectant silence.

Dazai’s heels click… click… clicked against the floor, decanter in hand. He stopped in front of Chuuya whose lips were still slick with you, and uncorked the decanter with a squeaking pop. A crooked finger beneath Chuuya’s chin raised his gaze up to Dazai.

“For you…” The one and only warning Chuuya received before the dark liquor came waterfalling out of the crystalware, dribbling into Chuuya’s mouth gracelessly. He spluttered and coughed at the burning liquid invading his throat, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away what had escaped out the sides of his mouth and down his chin.

No sooner than he could breathe again, Chuuya found his chin once again hooked over Dazai’s knuckle. Another cutting glare until he spoke again;

“For her…” He canted the bottle in your direction, this time pressing his thumb to Chuuya’s bottom lip as an instruction to open.

The amber liquid flowed into Chuuya’s mouth again, this time with more decorum. Just shy of exceeding the amount that Chuuya could hold in his mouth, Dazai halted the flow and capped the decanter, gesturing once again toward you, before turning away to replace the bottle on the table.

You watched Chuuya, knowing better than he had before, crawl his way up your body. He used one arm to hike your leg over his hip, and his free hand to press you reverently into the mattress. Once there, he caged you in on either side, with his thumb he swiped away an errant curl from your face, before stooping low as though for a kiss.

When you opened your lips to grant him passage, warm, golden liquid spilled from his mouth to yours. It scalded the back of your throat as you drank it down, gulp by gulp, until your lips parted, a shining thread still connecting the two of you.

“Chuuya…” you cooed, pitching your hips up to even just graze his weeping erection. He hissed, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“The fuck are you doing to me, doll…”

In the distance, you heard a cheerful hum, something to the tune of ‘Memory’.

Chuuya heaved a long-suffering sigh, then busied himself with gnawing at your neck. You reached between you, once again flicking open the button of his pants, slowly undoing his fly, and reaching in to palm his wrought iron cock, to the response of a breathy groan against your neck as he ground into the touch.

“Please, Chuuya… Need you so bad…” Damn what Dazai says, you thought, you two know yourselves better than he does, right?

Chuuya wasted no time shuffling his pants down enough for his cock to spring free. He laid it against your still dripping cunt, hot like a brand. One thing that was different with Dazai here, Chuuya never loved you this slowly before. He thrust against you, relishing the friction once, twice, and on the third stroke he sank himself into your waiting heat. Your pussy sucked him greedily in, which knocked the wind right from his lungs.

He pushed himself off the mattress to look at you, arms and shoulders trembling with effort as he took you in. He pressed into you again, and again, and again. Eventually, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss, tongue skimming the roof of your mouth, melding with yours, before sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. In one movement, he snatched up your wrists in either hand, pinning them to the mattress as he bullied into your cunt over and over.

His grip tightened around your wrists, vicelike, bruising.

“Ch-Chuuya!” you stammered around his thrusting cock, “You’re h-hurting me!”

“Don’t. Stop.” Dazai commanded, unseen.

And like he had no other choice, Chuuya slammed into you like a crashing tide, pinning you to the bed as he loomed over you, sweat slicked, panting and animal.

Soon, like you had no other choice, your legs snapped around him, your breath came ragged and whining as he ground you down into his shape, made to receive only him.

“M’gonna…” He gritted through his teeth.

“Yeah” You agreed, the feeling of your own release ricocheting off him.

His face once again sunk down to your shoulder, and a loud groan fell from his lips as he peaked shortly after you. Your breaths mingled, and at length the two of you relaxed into each other.

Before you could fully recover, the sound of a slow applause resounded about the room.

“Very nice…” Dazai crooned.

Much to your chagrin, Chuuya rolled off of you to look Dazai in the face, but Dazai wasn’t  looking at Chuuya. He was looking at you.

“You put on a good show, Bella… Come, sit in my lap.” He said, patting his thigh softly as he reclined in the ornate chair he had pulled from beneath the window.

You sat up, skirt pushed well over your waist, and moved to stand. Chuuya’s hand captured your wrist,

“You don’t have to do what he says…” He tells you.

“Why don’t you let her decide that, Chuu-ya?” Dazai sing-songed from his seat.

“It’s okay, Chuuya…” You whispered, smiling blearily before turning to meet Dazai.

You’d only gotten within arms reach before he snatched up your arm and spun you around, “Yeah, it’s okay, isn’t it Chuuya?” He called, mocking, before raising you wrist to inspect it.

“I swear to god, if you hurt her, Dazai…”

“What, like I’d hurt you, Chuuya?” He smirked against the blossoming bruise on your skin, “I think you’ve got that well in hand, don’t you.”

Chuuya blushed, actually blushed as Dazai pressed light kisses against your skin.

“I think it’s high time these came off…” He continued, unzipping your skirt, and pulling it with your panties unceremoniously to the floor. Left exposed, you tried to pinch your legs together just out of sheer embarrassment, as though you hadn’t just been licked and fucked within an inch of your life while a most unexpected guest watched. Behind you, Dazai tutted again.

“No no, sweetness, that won’t do… Can’t hide how beautiful you are, now can we?” He chided, before he shoved his leg between yours, both forcing them apart and throwing you off balance until you straddled his thigh.

Dazai pushed up on the ball of his foot to grind his knee into your clit. You tossed your head back with a gasp as he wound his arms about your middle like a python, pulling you hard against him, so he could nuzzle the hollow of your ear.

“Hasty, isn’t he?” he purred. You only whined as you tried to cant your hips into his thigh to feel just an ounce of friction again.

“Some people just don’t know…” long fingers trailed over each of your buttons until your now rumpled dress shirt fell open, “how good slow can be…”

He deftly undid the clasp of your bra and slid both articles off your shoulders, The night air  raised goosebumps over your whole body. Even colder hands skated up your tummy to pluck at your purled nipples while Chuuya watched, your gasps and whining moans rousing his cock each passing second.

“Oh how I’d tease him to tears…” He recalled. “I could do that for you, if you’d like…”

One set of fingers trailed down, down, down just where you’d need them to be. They pet at your clit, swirling featherlight over it. The nerves there sang, pitch driving higher and higher until just as you’re about to reach the zenith.

Smack.

You yelped as a cold hand landed a sharp slap over your cunt. Again, he toyed with you, playing with your nipples, nibbling your neck and ears, thumbing over your clit until you’re just about to cum, and…

Smack.

The aftershock of your denied release rolled through you, your muscles tensed and ached and rebelled, choking a strained groan from your throat.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Belladonna?” He cooed, his iron grip around your middle barring you from the delicious friction of his thigh, your impatient grunts and whining availing nothing to you.

“Such a greedy little thing…” He continued, “Already two orgasms from Chuuya, and you want another from me?” He chuckled as you whined and struggled against him, meanwhile Chuuya sank off the bed onto the floor to watch you, pale fingers raking desperately through velvet tresses in a feeble effort to contain himself.

“Oh darling, you’ll have to work for that.” He kissed the hollow behind your ear, “Go on, pretty, give him a show…” He said, both hands dropping to your hips, canting them forward until your clit rubbed sweetly against his trousers. You shuddered and groaned, and he pitched your hips back to start again.

After a few strokes, you found your own rhythm grinding against his thigh. You unclasped your hands in favor of supporting yourself on Dazai’s knee, heavily lidded eyes lighting on Chuuya, cunt twitching at the far-off look he had watching you work yourself up.

“Isn’t she pretty, Chuuya?” you heard.

“Mm…” He murmured in dazed reply.

You couldn’t see the way Dazai rolled his eyes behind you, before tucking into his jacket and pulling out a thin blade of shining metal. Some of the light came back into Chuuya’s eyes.

“I said…” Long fingers knotted through the hair at the nape of your neck, and forced you to look skyward, “Isn’t she pretty?”

You yelped again, and where you had previously been aching, burning, like your skin was too tight to contain your body, cold metal prickled your skin.

“You should really be more careful where you keep these, Chuuya… I know you like to keep them…” You hissed as the cutting edge of the blade bit into the delicate skin of your neck. “...sharp.”

“Dazai, you fucker, I’ll-!” Chuuya did his best to scramble to his feet, only to be met with a booted heel to his shoulder.

“You’ll what?” Dazai said darkly, more of a challenge than a question. WIth barely more than a glance, he directed Chuuya’s attention to where you met his thigh. You were soaked, pussy positively drooling over Dazai’s thigh if the rapidly spreading dark spot was anything to go by.

Dazai’s lips quirked up as he, in time, removed the knife, pressing the tip against his tongue before taking the whole blade end into his mouth, pulling it out clean.

“You found a real freak, Chuuya…” He licked a long stripe along your neck to clear the dribbling blood from your cut, “Maybe I’ll keep her…” He grinned, winding his arms tightly around you again.

Chuuya opened his mouth to reply, but was soon interrupted.

“D-Dazai…” You whined.

“Hmmm?”

“Wanna… cum…” You panted in his ear. Your body ached with need, your legs trembled you could have climaxed just from the rolling chuckle he lilted into your ear.

“Of course you do, sweet thing.” He said with a kiss against your jaw, free hand tucking some hair behind your ear.

Your eyes flew open when those fingers twisted in your hair again, forcing you down to your knees as he stood without warning.

“However, I hardly think that’s fair, considering poor Chuuya has worked so hard to make you feel good, and you’ve done next to nothing!”

You winced away from his grip against your scalp, but he held firm as he crouched to speak in your ear again,

“Perhaps if you try returning the favor, maybe I’ll consider it.” He spat venomously, letting go of your hair, and disappearing from your sight.

Despite the scathing words, your mind swam on a numbing sea, leaving you with no thoughts outside of the humming in your blood and the ache between your legs.

Your skin sparked at the sensation of a ridged leather sole between your shoulder blades, forcing you forward into a near kowtow between Chuuya’s knees.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” He hissed. “Suck.”

You sighed as though in relief, like you were granted a great boon, and leapt forward to take his flushed cock in hand.

Your eyes swam up to meet his, just as bewildered and mystified as your own as he watched your tongue loll from your mouth, and lick a white hot stripe up the underside of his cock. His surprised moan tumbled from his lips as he carded his fingers through your hair, gentle and delicate compared to Dazai’s biting grip.

Chills raced up and down your back as he swept up your cascading curls into his fist while you took him from tip to base into your throat. Eyes fixed on his face, so pretty in the white gold light filtering through the window, you swallowed around his dick. He hissed sharply and another groan choked forth from his throat.

“Oh, you can do better than that.” Dazai chided, the last thing you heard before a second hand forced you further down his cock. Chuuya threw his head back with a strangled gasp as you gagged around him, tears rolling down your cheeks. You planted your hands to either side of Chuuya’s hips, thumbs fisted in your palms while you struggled to take him all.

“Dazai…” Chuuya breathed, “please…” 

Dazai only hummed in reply, twirling his russet hair between his fingers as Chuuya yielded himself to the sensation of you, kicking his feet and bucking into your throat until white ribbons painted the inside of your mouth.

“Don’t waste it, Bella…”

And you didn’t, wouldn’t dare, swallowing every drop of what Chuuya had to give until Dazai let you off his cock, spluttering, coughing and gasping through your spit slick lips. When you started to catch your breath, a cold hand cupped your chin and pulled you to look into deep dark eyes.

“You’ve done very well, sweetness.” A wan smile painted your lips at his praise, “I think she’s earned her reward, don’t you, Chuuya?” Chuuya said nothing while Dazai trailed a hand between your legs to pinch your clit, eliciting another wanton moan from your lips, which devolved into one of protest when Dazai removed his hand. You weren’t sure how much more teasing you could take.

Dazai , however, quickly dismissed your concerns, “Go on, take your prize then.” He said, glancing once down to Chuuya. Your gaze flitted from him, back to Dazai, and then hungrily back to Chuuya again as you clambered up his body and positioned yourself over his hips.

“Wait…” He slurred, propping himself up onto one elbow, “Hold on a sec- ah!” Chuuya keened as you slotted him at your dripping slit, and rode slowly over him, feeling him growing hard beneath you, spreading delicious warmth over your needy clit.

“Baby…” he pleaded, “I can’t…”

“He can.” Dazai assured.

You threw your arms around Chuuya’s neck, your breasts pressed to his chest. You couldn’t help but marvel at him, flushed, panting, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, yet another one of his facets that Dazai’s chosen to reveal to you tonight. When his hazy eyes landed on yours, polished with tears, alcohol, the moment, you found your mouth landing on his, swallowing his moans, sucking on his tongue as you ground in circles on his cock.

His hands flew to your hips, slender fingers gripping the fat of your ass, pulling you on top of him. He tried to hold you still, but the more you wound around him, the less control he had over his hips pistoning in and out of you, a chorus unbridled moans tumbling from his kiss-bitten lips.

In the end, you collided in ribbons of color, your body overwound and his undone, and you both came with trembling gasps as you held tightly to one another, a sheen of sweat setting your skin aglow.

“Perfect.” Dazai whispered.

From where he was standing, you couldn’t tell if he was looking at you or at Chuuya. Maybe both, maybe it didn’t matter. When you heard the echo of Dazai’s footsteps, you shook yourself out of your suspension.

“W-wait!” You called hoarsly. He stopped. Chuuya’s arms wound around your waist to hold you to him, but still you reached for Dazai;

“What about you?”

He tossed a look over his shoulder, an exasperated smile playing on his lips before he turned back on his heel and crouched in front of you.

“And what about me, Belladonna? Hmm?” A long finger idled with a strand of your hair, caressed your cheek.

“You- I mean… You didn’t…” Why were you suddenly so embarrassed? Like he didn’t just watch you and Chuuya come apart in his hands, taken apart like instruments, only he wasn’t the player here, he was the conductor, directing the tempo, crescendos and arpeggios into a beautiful symphony. A perfect masterpiece.

Dazai smiled wistfully at you, a touch of sincerity opening up on his face, in his eyes. He took your chin between his fingers, and pressed a lingering, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Something to look forward to.” He smirked, and took his hand over to Chuuya to tuck a stray lock behind his ear, before returning to his exit, sans encore.

“Dazai…” Chuuya grumbled, but before he could get another word out, Dazai spoke, a finger to his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye;

“Don’t worry, Chuuya… Your secret is safe with me.”

And with a wink, he was gone, the echo of his statement sounding more like a threat than a promise.

#these men have a chokehold on me #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #soukoku #chuuya x reader #dazai x chuuya #chuuya x you #dazai x you #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #skk x reader #paramour writes

[brisquad-unit-4402]

"how do you kiss hard?" - ike eveland 2023

mike…

i swear i’m trying to do my requests i swear i swear it’s just that i keep hearing livers say things and that’s what gets the neurons firing for some reason

this entire fic is a joke if you know you know. and brother there's a lot to know

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship(?), ike is in a pretentious mood but dw about it, it’s literally just a page of making out with ike lol

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Between two pages of his book, Ike snorts. His mouth curves up, barely visible between the paper, amusement before his expertise can kick in. When it does, his brows knit together while that pitying smile remains. 

A hand rubs along the back of his shoulder while you look over it. “Someone’s being pretentious.”

Ike stifles his laugh this time. It sounds like he’s sniffing. “Can you blame me? This author has such a good mystery plot going on, but they write so many romance clichés it’s not even funny.” He scoots closer to you on the couch and points out the words. “Look at that. How do you ‘kiss hard?’”

“What, you haven’t kissed hard before?” You joke.

“Hard no.”

“Naaah, you’ve definitely done it before.”

“Really, now.” The book collapses on itself with Ike’s thumb marking his page. As he slides a bookmark in, he reflects your coy energy right back at you. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, sure.” You slide next to him on the couch. Feeling a monologue coming along, Ike sets the book aside to give you his undivided attention, if not a little pompous. “A light kiss would be like this.”

It’s over as soon as it starts. You brush Ike’s messy, blue-toned hair out of the way so you can peck him on the forehead. The print of your lip eases the quirk out of his eyebrow. 

He flashes a smile, still trying to keep that pompous air up. “I know what a light kiss is.”

“Great job, honey. Proud of you.” His hair falls back into place as your hand trails down his face. It oscillates between the jawline and the sweetened apple of his cheeks, sprouting blossoms as your thumb presses along his skin. “Now here’s what a hard kiss feels like.”

‘Whiplash’ would be an apt name for it. The peck—the light kiss—it was tender, and in a way, how you took to Ike next was tender as well, encompassing and boiling along, unable to hold yourself back from pouring over. Ike squeaks. A tiny whimper under your churning, lost in the steam. He runs raw under your lips as you gnaw and writhe under his skin. An uncontrollable heat sprouts from your mouth, the breath of a dragon, along trails of gasoline and wet lips that set him alight. 

He whimpers again. The pressure is almost too much to bear, but how you clutch onto his shirt draws him back to your warmth. The fabric curls under your grasp, threatening to wrinkle, tugging on his shirt and exposing where his neck connects to collar and chest. Ike bends apart when you take the base of his neck and reach for his jaw again, just as greedy for reciprocation as you are for that uncovered skin. It must taste delicious underneath your lips. You want to see him jolt at the pressure and the teeth marks under a bite, turning an angry, lovey red that begs for more before he does. 

But that’s a kiss for later, and this is a hard kiss now, and if it wasn’t obvious before this isn’t his first. He clings to you by your hips, the rise and fall of his fishnets distinct under his hands, growing rougher as the seconds go by. If the mesh leaves marks on his palms, then they would match the smattering against his lips. You attack fiendishly. There is no tact nor methodology. Only the urge to take him apart, and leave him clueless as you meld along his circuits. Quick bites and glazed tongues pry him open with embers weaved between. 

Even with your warning the hard kiss took him by surprise, and now he recovers. What were once whimpers are now hidden moans between the open-mouthed kiss, but if you could hear them between the ruffling fabric and craving hands, that’s lost to you. It’s the lingering vibration deep in his throat instead that drives you to take him in further. You line his mouth with nips and prods, guiding him to lace his tongue through the corners, a needle to fabric stitched tight. 

Thready hands drag out from the curve of your hips and soak in the shelf along the small of your back. The tangle of limbs knit closer, then meet, then tumble out along the cushions of the couch. It doesn’t interrupt even as you readjust over him, sewing your body on top while he lays pinned underneath you, fluffy hair like a halo on the cushions of the couch with shivers down his spine and a slithering, satisfied sigh that shakes as he keeps you connected to his lips. 

Your shirt hem brushes along Ike’s knuckles as he squirms, slotting himself against you, stroking and savoring skin on skin. The rest of the shirt runs between his fingers as they splay out on your back. They crawl upward even as Ike’s eyes are sewn shut, committing each inch of skin and spine to memory while you’re all he can sense.

With your touch spread across him, Ike looks like ruin. You let go, but the collar of his shirt remains lopsided, and the way his collarbone connects to rounded shoulders steals your breath away. His hair is even messier than usual now that your fingers tousle through it.

Your tongue nurses over what syrupy pain you left behind. His lips are rubied under your glistening care. You bring him back to health with a thumb rubbing along his ear and the rest of your hand combing through ashy brown hair, candy on your tongue so addictive one hit couldn’t possibly be enough.

The seams come apart. Blearily, Ike’s eyes open; two strikes of green and gold shine under long, half-lidded lashes. With your mouths still pressed against each other, he’s so close you can see the subtle streaks of color in his eyes. The traces of disbelief and delight unrestrained.

In a final move, you purse your lips for one last taste. There’s a tiny smack in the air as your mouth separates from his.

Moving away is like swimming underwater. You push yourself up and get a good look at Ike as you come down, still pinned down with your arms on either side of his shoulders. His clothes are disheveled. 

The air is thick, not with tension, but rather the weight of the hard kiss. You can still feel your chest rise and small pants from Ike as the both of you regain your breath. “Get it now?” You ask. 

“Reader,” he says, out of breath but firm. “You know we’ve done this before.”

A smirk spreads across your face. “So I jogged your memory?”

“It never needed jogging in the first place.” He’s been pink this entire time, but now it seems like he’s shying away after all the heated kisses. He buries his head into a cushion that muffles his voice. “You know it was a style issue, right?”

“Hm?”

“It’s not like I didn’t know. It was just worded awkwardly in the book.”

The dots slowly connect. “The book. So…”

“‘Kissed really hard’,” Ike quotes. He laughs, and his uneven breaths make him sound all the more spellbound. “The author could’ve used so many better descriptors and settled on ‘kissed really hard’. That’s such a weak move.”

“Yeah.” 

“Passionate, sensual, helpless.” He ticks off as he raises his head. He kisses your neck, neither light nor hard. Something new to explore. “Debauched.”

“Uh-huh…” Your mind goes blank. There’s no reason for him to kiss you like this. It’s all on his own terms, because he wants to, and being the center of his attention now just because has you going woozy. You may have bitten off more than you can chew.

“Poor guy. Doesn’t have a clue on what we have.” Another pulse along your neck. Ike thumbs along your nape, a soothing gesture under short kisses growing rougher. He quotes the rest of the passage he showed you. “'Amy kissed Sonic so hard that he was thinking “Let's have sex” but he didn't say it because the teacher would show up by the time they started to have sex in History class. Sonic kissed back really hard and it was sexy to everyone.' I mean, seriously? His gay balls are the least of his problems.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi ✧. ┊lol sonic high school reference

#ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #ike eveland fluff #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #4402 writes #out of everything i've written this is truly the velocipastor of my fics #also sorry i have a pattern of posting whenever it's a bad time for the fandom? #all i can say is #once again this is what mysta would've wanted

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Stray

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Based off of my commentary on this post from @itwasthereaminuteago, about how Frank just brings home dogs from jobs.

Warnings: Fluff, pure fluff.

WC: 900

The raindrops hit against the windows of your apartment in a calming rhythm, a welcome white noise to accompany your relaxing evening. You were snuggled up on the sofa, your favorite fuzzy throw blanket rested across your lap as you settled in for the night, content to enjoy a cup of coffee and a good book while you waited for Frank to return.

No that you were lonely tonight, quite the contrary, as you were surrounded by your four rescue dogs.

Rosie was the brindle boxer-lab mix Frank found on the way home from a job. She was left in a box after she had been abandoned on the side of the road somewhere in rural Appalachia. Now, she rested right in front of the fireplace, content to let the glowing embers warm her snoot as she slept in a curled up croissant shape on the floor.

Max and Leo were found together, Frank rescued them from an underground dog fighting ring run by one of the gangs he was hunting down. Max, a shepherd-pittie mix with ears shooting up to the sky, sat right in front of the window, tilting his head to take in every new sound coming from the outside. Meanwhile, Leo, a tan and white pitbull, was content to join Rosie in lounging about. His body draped lazily across the recliner in the corner, lip occasionally twitching as he dreamed, probably about chasing squirrels in the park you liked to imagine. 

Nestled into your side rested Jeff, a tiny dachshund mix some mob boss used like a Bond villain with a white cat in his lap. When Frank brought him home, he was shivering and so scared of everything, quivering with fear every time either of you went near him. Now that he had been in your home for a while, his personality was quite the opposite. Despite him being the tiniest of your pack, he was the most confident and always happy to snuggle up with either of you, just like he was now. 

The familiar sound of keys in the door caught the attention of all five of you. Rosie, Max, and Leo sprinted towards the door, eager to greet Frank as his heavy boots squeaked across the floors of the entryway. Jeff, however, was unbothered and after watching his three siblings rush down the hall, resumed burrowing further into your embrace.

You looked up from your book, watching as Frank appeared in the living room, three dogs trailing behind him.

He was soaked from head to toe, dark curls sticking to his forehead as he approached where you were sitting. He kept one arm tucked inside his jacket, as he leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss in greeting

“You’re back earlier than I expected.” you commented, eyeing him as he stooped down to give the dogs attention, wondering just what the heck he was doing with his arm

“Yeah, well musta got some bad intel cause I waited at that warehouse for four hours and no one showed. I’ll try it again tomorrow.” he replied as Max and Leo licked at his chin

“Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Whatcha got there?” you asked, having a bad feeling you already knew the answer

Frank stood tall in front of you, sheepishly ducking his head toward the floor before looking up at you and responding.

“Look, I know you said we don’t have any more room…”

“Frank…”

“But she was shivering behind a dumpster and in this weather I couldn’t just leave her!”

He finally pulled his arm from his jacket, revealing a gray staffordshire terrier puppy trembling in his hand. She looked so young, and was small enough to fit in Frank’s enormous palm.

“Francis, we live in a one bedroom in Manhattan. Where are we gonna put another dog?”

He didn’t answer, instead just looking at you with those signature brown eyes that made you melt every time.

You looked at the poor thing in his grasp, her brown eyes seemed to be exactly the same as Frank’s, silently begging you to say yes.

You sighed, knowing that your protestations were useless. You got up from your spot on the couch, annoying Jeff who moved to the other side of the sofa with a huff as he curled back up. 

Frank wordlessly handed the puppy to you and you pulled her close to your chest as she sniffed at your ear, excited to meet another new person. You kissed her forehead and a wide smile spread across Frank’s face, knowing that you were sold and this dog was now part of the family.

You crouched down, letting Rosie, Max and Leo sniff and greet their new sibling. Her tail thumped against your chest as she excitedly greeted her new-found family.

“What are we going to name her?” you asked Frank as he also crouched down to scratch at everyone’s ears and help them greet the new puppy.

“What about Chelsea? Since that’s where I found her?”

“Chelsea. Perfect.” you replied

After everyone had gotten their sniffs in and settled down, she fell asleep in your arms. You gingerly moved back towards the couch, trying your best not to disturb her. Frank and the rest of the dogs joined you to snuggle up and enjoy the rest of your first evening together as a pack of seven.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #the punisher #fluff

[lokisgoodgirl]

Safe House : Clandestine F*cks [Avenger!Loki x Female Reader] 18+

Part of the Clandestine F*cks Collection [link] A Link to my Masterlist is HERE

Relationship: Avenger! Loki x Female Reader Summary: (1) On the final night of a mission, you desperately need the attention of your secret lover. (w/c 2.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut heavy. Oral sex (F receiving). Face Sitting. Secret relationship. Language.

Your hand felt gingerly across the wall as you navigated through the darkness. The now-familiar corridor of the mission safe house eerily foreboding as adrenaline surged beneath your skin.

You passed the occupied bedrooms where your teammates slept, the sound of your bare footsteps magnified on creaking floorboards. You winced, cursing them silently.

The doorknob you sought turned easily underneath your touch, letting you slide inside undetected. You thought he might have been awake, but the motionless outline underneath the sheets of the bed told you otherwise.

Picking your way across the floor on tiptoe, the traitorous squeak of farmhouse wood documented your route as you reached to grasp the edge of the duvet. You slipped inside the sheets, running an eager hand over the naked skin of the man who lay on his stomach; his face turned away.

A silhouette of dark curls was outlined against his pillow falling across wide shoulders in a cascade of temptation. You had been plotting the arrival of this moment all week. The completion of a successful mission, an opportune moment and the clandestine secrecy of darkness.

A muffled groan hummed in the air as he stirred beneath your touch, the light scratch of your nails against his skin calling him from his slumber.

“You’re not supposed to be here...” he muttered groggily, as he turned on to his back to face you, propped up on his elbows.

Tousled hair hung freely around his jaw, faint slivers of moonlight dancing across the lines of his cheekbones through a small gap in the curtain. Despite his chastising tone, the low embers of his voice vibrated with intrigue; a glint of mischief in his eyes still visible in the heavy gloom.

Before he could say another word, you were on top of him. Your thighs encased his own, straddling his hips on the unfamiliar bed beneath you. “Well, well…” he murmured, lying back on the pillow “it seems you find it extremely difficult to stay away from me. Not even a full week...” he tutted.

Loki’s wandering hands ghosted up your thighs, meeting the creases of your hips as you leant down to meet him in a ravenous kiss. Your tongue slid firmly into his mouth, softly caressing the wetness of his own as he let out a low moan. His sweet breath invaded your senses. The scent of him so close after being denied his touch almost too much to bear. You felt your hips thrust against the sheets covering his lower body, your instincts begging you to give in to their primal desires.

Magic had rolled from the god like a tsunami, relentlessly crushing the mutant hoard by the dozen as the rest of the team merely picked them off one by one. The memory made your stomach clench with need as he lay beneath you, his muscled legs widening as he raised his knees to rest against your ass.

“We shouldn’t…” he murmured unconvincingly as you began sucking deep kisses into his neck, down towards his shoulder. “They’ll hear us.”

You slid your palms wantonly up his torso, the beauty of his smooth skin mellowing the brute force of power that lay beneath. You remembered the enemies that had fallen to his strength this afternoon, the culmination of five days of intense operations.

You ignored him, biting gently above his collarbone. The darkness hid a smile forming on your lips as he moaned again beneath your seductions.

“Y/N.” he warned, as you began to rub your pussy purposefully back and forth against his crotch; swelling with pride as you felt his cock harden against your aching core.

“They won’t hear us” you whispered against his cheek, feeling his grip tighten on your thighs. “I’ll be quiet, I promise…”

Loki thrust upwards slowly, pressing the mid-point of his solid girth firmly against your swollen clit. The bedsheet between your bodies was absorbing wetness from between your thighs under the pressure. You were soaking.

“Darling, if you could be quiet I’d have had you every night this week, believe me.” Loki said slowly, his deep voice vibrating the air. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your behind, willing you to bend to him again.

Your lips met in the darkness, the neediness of your breathy kisses growing with every moment. Loki slid his raised knees closer to his body, inching you up his torso with the backs of his thighs until your core grazed his bellybutton through the cotton sheets.

“But let’s see, shall we? A little test.” he purred, the challenge falling from his lips releasing a sharp ripple deep in your channel. “Although I suspect by the time we are finished, our secret will not be such a secret, pet...”

You rolled your eyes as he pulled your hips further towards him; rougher this time. “I saw that, darling” he muttered coyly, “now bring that delicious pussy up here, I’ve missed her desperately.”

Your stomach fluttered, the fruition of your plans tantalisingly close as you considered the logistics of his request. “Who’s next door?” you questioned quietly, ascending his torso on your knees.

“My brother..” Loki murmured absent-mindedly as he slid his hands to grip your hips above him, “now sit down like a good girl, and try to restrain yourself...”

Your fingers gripped around the aged wood of the headboard as you manoeuvred over the god’s beautiful face. It seemed a shame not to be able to see him wholly in the darkness, the way his brow furrowed in intense concentration as he brought you to climax under his attentions; but then – these were desperate times. You needed him, and he knew it.

It hadn’t been long since the relentless flirting and thinly laced innuendos between you and he had spilled over to the best sex you had ever had in your life. Possibly the best sex anyone had ever had. You couldn’t compute there being another level to what was possible from Loki Laufeyson, the thought made you shudder. You had thought it would be easy to maintain the ruse of ambivalent cordiality between you this week in close quarters with the rest of the mission team. But you were wrong.

He had taunted you relentlessly; intentionally or not, as you fought to remain an air of neutrality. The tight t-shirts he’d taken to wearing edged above his hips as he yawned animatedly on entry to the kitchen each morning as breakfast sizzled. The way he brazenly dropped his armour in front of you in the tiny kit room as the others suited up; bending over purposefully to retrieve it. Everything he said sounded like it was designed to make you squirm with desire. You needed him tonight. Now. Like a fix.

With a staggered breath of anticipation you lowered your hips to meet his open mouth; a dark moan of approval humming beneath you like a luxury engine as his skin met yours. God, he was heaven.

His tongue slid gently between your folds, already plumped by flushed, hot blood. It was gentle. Soft. He knew you would be sensitive after a week without his attention.

The tip traced gently around your entrance, lavishing every crevice with its blessing. You sighed against the width of warmth that slid up your centre, his flattened tongue pressing smoothly upwards to rest on your swollen clit.

“Lokiiii” you sighed, as he sucked you gently.

His arms looped underneath your spread thighs, his hands spreading slowly over the tops to steady you. Strong fingertips melded keenly to your flesh, gripping your curves as he pushed you further down to his waiting tongue. Your grip tightened on the wooden headboard, nails digging into the ageing varnish as your lips pressed together to silence a cry.

He vibrated with a chuckle beneath you, enjoying the trap of your own making. A shudder of pleasure rolled low in your belly as Loki licked a thick stripe up the centre of your cunt, returning back eagerly to pull your wet lips into his mouth. “Ahhh, Loki” you moaned quietly, the groan that followed resonating in your sinuses as you stifled your delirium against his work.

Slowly, you began to gyrate your hips against his face; following the instruction of his hands on your ass as he pleasured you religiously. From his open mouth you could hear breathy pants of arousal, every lap of his wet muscle mixing with audible appreciation. He moaned gently as he claimed the nectar given so freely by your body, his hips making soft thrusts behind you in time with his jaw.

Loki slipped his tongue inside your pussy, firing with the first ripples of orgasmic plateau; “Fuuuuck-yesss” you hissed, catching yourself before you screamed it. His nose pressed against your mound as he consumed you leisurely, flickers of moonlight illuminating the lustful concentration on his brow.

Black waves tumbled over the pillow beneath him, his biceps flexing against their tight grip winding against your open thighs and forcing you down upon him. He was relentless. Loki swirled his tongue across your folds, dipping against each centre of pleasure he knew so well in perfect rhythm as he rocked you towards climax at a torturously slow pace.

You were glad it was dark. Expressions twisted your face between awe and excruciation as you fought to hold back the thunders of pleasure building in your throat. Sweat building on your palms made the headboard slide beneath your grip; hands finding the wall above as you grasped for purchase against the coming tide. Low, harsh grunts escaped your lips as Loki’s tongue slipped inside you again. He drew it back out only to press the whole width devastatingly against your fizzing bundle of nerves, enjoying your extended undoing.

You had been on the plateau of orgasm for minutes, teetering addictively between realms. He knew. He always knew. He was biding his time until you couldn’t hold on any more. Until the loud moan of his name building like gunpowder deep in your throat was unstoppably lit. Did he want them all to hear? Or, at the very least, his brother sleeping on the other side of this wall.

“Loki I’m gon-gonna”

He squeezed your thighs knowingly, his eyes fluttering open; crinkling in amusement as you looked down at him desperately. The feeling of his forearms pressed against the backs of your thighs, pulling you deeper into his hungry mouth, was going to make you tip over the edge. You weren’t ready.

You pawed at the wall, trying to focus on any identifying feature on the blank canvas which could distract you while you tried not to tumble into insanity. God how you needed to scream.

With a slip of his palms, Loki raised your hips; scooting himself forward and delving deep into your core with one heavy, mercilessly flattened lick that enveloped you.

You melted against the headboard. The soaring crescendo in your belly howling for freedom as you came deeply into his waiting mouth.

The god's arms encased your thighs, trapping you to him. He owned your pleasure as your hips shuddered above him; seeing stars. Flecks of light crowded your vision as your brow twisted, lips parted in a mercifully silent cry. He drank it in greedily, lapping carefully at your soaking pussy coating him after six nights of absence from his prowess.

Your forearms braced against the wall as the final throes of your release faded. The feeling of gentle laps massaging the edges of your slit fastidiously a reminder of your lover savouring every drop you had to give.

A sigh caught in your throat as you leant back, straddling his chest, catching your breath. The first speckles of dawn had crept through the tight gap in the curtains, the tentative light teasing across Loki’s face. His dimples glowed in the gloom as he smiled knowingly; enjoying the puddled mess you had become under his touch. His lower face glinted with the sheen of cum and saliva spread across his lips, his chin, his nose.

“I’m impressed, darling” he murmured, brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead, “you hardly made a sound. I must be losing my touch.”

You smacked him lightly on the arm, pleased that you had proved him wrong. A rare moment, indeed.

“You did however, hit the wall quite a few times.” he chuckled, his eyebrow raising as his dimples grew deeper. Your eyes widened before you resigned yourself with a shrug, “You can blame mice.”

“Mice?” Loki snorted, “Even my stupid brother wouldn’t fall for that…”

“He bought that you were performing the heimlich manoeuvre on me in the garages last week so yes...I think he would, actually.” you scoffed, as your secret lover smiled below you.

“Perhaps you’re right, my little vixen” he purred, sitting up to catch you in a kiss; the taste of your cum heavy on his tongue as he leant into you with a firm thrust of his hips.

“Now get out of here and back to bed” he muttered breathlessly, “before I flip you over and irrevocably destroy the clandestine element of our arrangement.”

You slipped off his body, your wet centre clinging optimistically to his hardened cock hidden beneath the cotton sheet which separated you. “I could do it, you know...I’ve proved I can be quiet” you huffed, straightening your flimsy nightdress.

“I wasn’t talking about you, darling. Tis’ I who would not be able to contain my cries of pleasure...” he smirked, turning to rest on his side; one hand raking through his hair as he leant against it.

“Now go. Before I change my mind..." he murmured coyly, fluffing the pillow beneath him.

-

Tags

@lady-rose-moon @lokisninerealms @lokiprompts @lokischambermaid @michelleleewise @mochie85 @vbecker10 @gigglingtigger @amethyst-reblogs @brokenthelovely @dangertoozmanykids101 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @lyn-soso @lokis-tigress @kats72 @dustychinchilla74 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @xorpsbane @loopsisloops @dead069ssworld @peaches1958 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @sititran @animnerd @ladymischief11 @november-rayne @mcufan72 @imalovernotahater @ozymdias @peachyymallows @thedistractedagglomeration @wheredafandomat @yelkmelk @chantsdemarins @november-rayne @mischief2sarawr @theaudacitytowrite @animnerd @ravenwings73 @lulubelle814

#lokismut #loki smut #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #hot loki #loki x reader smut #avenger!loki #avenger loki #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki fandom #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki mcu #loki of asgard #god of mischief #mcu loki #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #loki imagines #loki imagine #Clandestine F*cks #clandestine f*cks

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Devil You Know

Summary: You are caught by a devil in the woods. She wants to talk about deals and you have always been a good listener. (F/F, 2nd person, original story)

-----------------------------.

“Do you want to hear about my deal?”

The woman across the fire hasn’t looked like a regular traveler for a few hours at least. You thought she was at first, but that was back when the sun sat high in the sky and her hat cast a shadow so deep across her eyes it hid the spark of magic in them. She smiles at you, her teeth a shade too sharp, and waits for you to answer.

The clearing rings with silence following her question. Even the crackling fire falls quiet for a moment. The dark from the woods around you presses against your shoulders like a wall. If you run, she’ll catch you sooner or later. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not even before you reach town. But someday, somehow, she’ll catch you.

“Sure,” you say. You lean back into the tree you’d picked to spend the night under. You have the ridiculous impulse to pull your blanket up and over your head like a child hiding from the dark. You return her smile with a lazy one of your own. Too late for hiding. Too late to reach for the tools in your bag that’re supposed to protect you from things like this. “Tell me about your deal.”

“I was a little girl,” she says. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, spirals of dark curls that seem to move under the flickering firelight. She picks up one of those curls and twirls it around her finger. “My town was starving. Not just my family. Not just me. My whole town. A village of the dying doesn’t wail, you know? Wailing happens when there’s someone around to save you. But when you’re all dying, nobody makes a sound.”

Evil things aren’t meant to be spoken this time of night. You look up at the sky anxiously, but the canopy of the pine you’re under blocks too much of your view. When you look back to her, she’s watching the long line of your throat. You swallow. “You lived.”

“I did,” she says. She drags her attention from the hollow of your throat to the harsh line of your jaw, to your eyes. Hers glow like embers when she captures your gaze. “A nice woman like yourself picked me up. Deigned to decide amongst all those damned and dying and doled her deal to dear, darling me.”

There’s a lot to object to, but you hold your tongue. There’s magic in her words, each one falling like the beat of a drum, inviting you to fall into her rhythm. You could…if you were the sort to be swayed by magic. Instead, you say, “You made the deal?”

“I did,” she says. “Devils are supposed to lay the terms, but this one didn’t. She told me I could pick whatever I wanted for one price. She saw me dying and she saw the ruins that had become of my home and she did not tell me she would save me or them. She asked me to choose one thing.” She examines the ends of her hair and then drops the strands with a sigh. “It is a very cruel thing to make a child decide in that sort of situation, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes. A child should be saved, not made to bargain.”

“I agree,” she says. She watches you like you’ve said something interesting. “How would you have saved me?”

That flusters you. Your fingers tangle in your blanket. “I suppose like today. I would have offered you my water and a portion of my rations. I would have lent you my horse to ride if you were injured and taken you to the next town.”

“Even as my family begged for you to save them too?” She leans forward, so close that you know the heat from the fire must be hitting her face. It sends shadows reaching up from under her chin to cross her cheeks and her eyes reflect the flames like mirrors. “Today, it was only me on the road. Then, my family laid behind me in a cluster, preserving the last of the heat with their own bodies. No food for days, no water for most of that too. I had a younger sister, you know, and an older brother.”

You’ve spent too many days on the road to not know what she’s talking about. The famine is an unpredictable beast, bellowing through some towns and slinking through others. You can imagine the smell of the dust and the filth that accumulates in barren areas, can hear the helpless gasps of the dying like dry branches scraping together, can see the vultures circling on high. The road is littered with families like she’s describing, all clutching each other in their last moments. Why, you’ve seen—

Wait.

You frown. “They laid behind you?”

“All in a pile,” she croons, grinning. This close you can see her teeth are too sharp. Her canines come to points just shy of her bottom lip. “Shivering against the encroaching winter and bemoaning the cruel negligence of the land’s lord.”

The land’s lord is always negligent. You wave that away and say, “But why weren’t you in the pile with them? An older brother and a younger sister…Why did you lay between them and the road the devil approached you on?”

The woman pulls back from the flames, retreating into the shadows. She’s back to watching you again, her smile no longer reaching her eyes. “Who knows? It was a long time ago. Perhaps they no longer thought of me as their bodies wasted away. I certainly didn’t think of them when I made my deal.”

Her words are like smoke, so smooth that they feel like a caress. Her eyes burn in the dark. Ask me, they say, ask me about my deal. You have met many evils on this road and she may yet be one of them. But… You have always been too curious and you can feel your caution dissolving in the face of it like smoke into air.

“I would have saved you,” you say. You nod when the words ring true in your chest. “I would have left your family behind. I would have saved you.”

She stills and the world goes still with her. The gentle breeze brushing through the pine quiets and an owl falls silent mid cry. She studies you, brow furrowing when she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. “You would.”

“I would,” you say. “The funny thing about saving people – it’s selfish. There’s a choice in it. Today I could have continued on my way to town. I could have had a full dinner rather than split it with you. But I saved you because I was lonely and wanted the company.” And, you add silently, sometimes I get tired of looking for answers. Saving her had been an answer, in a way.

“What would you have gotten out of it if you’d saved me and not my family?”

“Satisfaction,” you say. And maybe the shadows are just as deep on your side of the campfire as they are on hers because she shudders when you smile. “Die alone or die together. There are only two options in this world. Who am I to stop them from choosing the more comforting of the two? Who are they to stop me from saving a child from the lonelier?”

“Huh,” the woman says. All at once the movement of the world rushes back. The breeze licks at your cheeks, stealing the suffocating warmth that had stolen over them. A bird takes flight from deep within the woods. “If only you had found me on the road then rather than now. We both might have had better fortune.”

The fire pops between you. The woman seems so much less frightening somehow. You can see the shape of her. She met a devil once, a long time ago, and she went down a crossroads. Now, like the researcher you are, you push for more.

“I guess that depends on the outcome of our meeting,” you say. There’s something bright in your chest now, replacing the sick fear that had bloomed as you realized she wasn’t human. She isn’t – the teeth are proof of that – but there is something human about her. You nod to her. “Tell me about your deal.”

“I was a child,” she says. She sounds hypnotized, her voice dreamy and her eyes distant. “I was starving. My family did not want to share the last of our stores with me. I was dying and a woman came up the road. She offered me a deal. Anything I wanted in exchange for my soul…” Her words drift off.

You lean forward, so close that you can feel the flames of the fire against your face. “What did you want?” you breathe.

Her gaze refocuses on you. She inhales sharply at your appearance, but says, “What could a dying girl want? What dreams could she have? Let me ask her and the make the deal quickly.” She drops the affected voice. “That’s what the devil must have been thinking when she offered me such an open-ended deal. She must have laughed while she asked me, so sure I would waste the opportunity.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” she says. She comes up onto her knees and shuffles forward, eyes never leaving yours as she approaches the edge of the fire. “I was a hungry thing, I was. I wanted food and water and to live. Those things the devil knew. But I also wanted revenge for being thrown away by the dying things who laid just behind me.”

“Good,” you say. You mean it. You feel elated at the idea, the memory of her knowing too much in the face of a creature trying to take advantage. You croon the word. “Good.”

She flushes. From the heat? From your words? She holds herself still in front of the flames and the wind rushes through the canopy above. “I knew she was a devil and I knew what she would do with my soul. I knew any deal I made needed to be worth it. So I thought quickly in the moments I had. I never wanted to be hungry and I never wanted to be helpless. I never wanted to be dependent again on luck or family or devils.”

You need to see her better. You find yourself on your knees too and, like this, you meet her eye-to-eye across the flames. “You made a deal.”

“I did.” She grins. “I said, you can have my soul. I said, I only want one thing. I said, I want—” here she draws out the word “—to be you.”

A log crumbles into cinder and sparks fly into the air between you. You feel the shadows pressing in from all around, but you can barely feel their chill. She is like you – a traveler on the road. But the road brought darkness to her doorstep, and she did not let it consume her. No, she sat astride it. She controlled it. She tamed it.

“I have been looking for someone like you,” you say. A confession for a confession. You have traveled this road for years looking for answers. And here she is. Your answer. “I have been looking for you.”

The woman isn’t listening. She smiles up at the sky, hands held palm out beside her. “The magic took hold before she knew what I had done. My soul for changing me into a thing that didn’t need one. My soul for power. My soul for freedom.”

“Yes,” you say. She is beautiful. She is transformed. You leap to your feet. “That’s it! That’s it exactly!” You rush around the fire. She jerks up to her feet, eyes widening, but you aren’t attacking her. You fall to your knees beside her and grab her hands. “You—you are perfection. Wonderful, truly!”

She looks down at you with her flaming eyes, mouth slightly agape. “I—what?”

“Thank you,” you say. You mean it. You are so sincere that you kiss the back of her hands. “I have searched for over a decade for my answer.”

She does not pull away, though her expression is unsure. “An answer to what question?”

“What do we mortals do when the world kills us? Why, we die, of course. But what do we do when the world is cruel? When it bites and claws and murders? When dark things crawl from our nightmares to devour us whole?” You look up at her rapturously. “Why, we become you.”

“I’m…not sure what I’m supposed to say here,” she says. She finally does pull her hands from yours, stepping back. There’s a deep wrinkle between her eyebrows. “This whole day is turning upside down. You know I’m a devil, right?”

“But you were human once,” you say. You sit back on your heels, beaming up at her. “You are the first person I’ve ever met who has bridged the gap between human and supernatural. I am a researcher, you know, and I have the authority to say that. You are unique.”

She flushes, the red across her cheeks darker than the red in her eyes. “I am trying to steal your soul,” she says.

Is she pouting? You nod and fold your hands in your lap, so you don’t reach for hers again. “Yes, I know.”

“If you know then you should run—”

“I want you to have it.”

She gapes at you. Closes her mouth. Presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Look. Traveler or researcher, whatever you are. I appreciate your sympathy in regard to my deal so I’ll let you go.”

What? No! “No!” you say. You scramble up from the ground and step towards her. You are a tall woman and she is not. You stop short of her to keep from looming. “Please, please, take my soul!”

“I don’t have a deal for people who want their souls to be stolen,” she snaps. She takes a half-step back and then firms. She glares up at you. “Anyone else would be ecstatic at the mercy I’m showing. Not many people escape a devil once they’ve shared a campsite—”

“I don’t want to escape!” You wring your hands together. “I don’t want us to part! I want to hear more about your transformation and your life after your deal. Do you collect souls to survive? Is it an instinct? Is it for fun? There are so many things I need to ask you!”

“You can ask any devil you find—” Her jaw drops again. “Wait, is that why you saved me? You just save people along this road, hoping they’re devils?”

Usually, yes. But tonight you really did just want some company. It can get awfully lonely traveling alone, especially when the merchants you used to travel with refuse to put up with you any longer. Something about losing too many of their people to the supernatural dangers you seek out.

“Saving people is selfish,” you remind her. “I never said I do it altruistically.”

She actually does take a step back this time. “What do you do with the devils you find?”

“Not all of them are devils—”

“What. Do you. Do. To them?”

You glance guiltily at your bag and then back to her. “If they answer my questions, I let them go. Honestly.”

“I don’t know if I believe you,” she says, but she stops backing up. She purses her lips. “If I answer your questions, will you let me go then?”

You hedge. “I don’t know if I can ask them all in one night,” you say. “If you let me stay with you for as long as I have questions, you can have my soul after.”

“You seem like a troublesome soul to collect,” she says. Her eyes narrow. “You didn’t tell me what you do to devils who don’t answer your questions.”

You widen your eyes and bat your lashes, hoping it looks as innocent as it did when you were a little girl. “They all answer my questions.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Liar.” She looks uneasily in the direction of your bag. “You’re a very troublesome soul indeed.”

“You can smell lies?” you ask, delighted. You want to get your notebook, but you’re worried she’s going to run if you take your eyes off her. “Or is it more of a sixth sense? Can you tell partial truths? What about—”

“How about this?” she blurts out, holding out one hand to stop your onslaught of questions. She looks somewhat harried which is ridiculous. You only just met. She runs a hand through her hair. “I’ll answer your questions.”

“I’ve got a lot of them though so it’d be easier if you took—”

“You can travel with me for as long as it takes,” she says. “In exchange, you won’t do to me whatever you did to those other devils. And you’ll stop bothering me about taking your soul.”

“But it would really be much easier if you did,” you say in your most reasonable voice. You wave your hands to your bag. “I’ve got years worth of questions. If you take my soul, it’s guaranteed that I’ll have enough time to ask them.”

“You can’t possibly have so many questions that you need an extended life to ask them,” she says, rolling her eyes. When you don’t respond, her eyes widen. “You don’t, do you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” you say. “I’ve never been able to ask them all before the devil tries to run.”

“Tries to run?” she asks.

You go back to smiling at her.

“The deal—the promise,” she corrects herself hastily, “is this: I’ll answer as many questions as you want for one year. During that time, I won’t run and you won’t… do whatever it is you do to devils that try. In exchange, you won’t ask me to take your soul. Good?”

Not good. You consider her, eyes sliding to the trees just beyond her shoulder. It’s the first time selling your soul would be worth it. She’s uniquely positioned to understand the specific differences between a human and a devil. She can answer all of your questions, but will a year be enough time? The one time you want to use your soul productively and she doesn’t want it.

Then again, a year is an awful long time to negotiate…

You grin. “Deal.”

“It’s a promise,” she says, emphasizing the word. She watches you for a moment, lips pressed tightly. “A promise is not a deal. Say it”

“A promise is not a deal,” you echo obediently.

She doesn’t look like she believes you. “This has been a long talk. You can ask your first question tomorrow morning.”

Ugh, that’s hours away. However, compromising is the key to a good relationship on the road. You nod. “Sounds fair. Do you want me to take the first watch, or…”

“I’m a devil,” she says. She shakes her head, finally turning her back on you to go back to her bedroll. “We don’t need a watch.”

You make the appropriate impressed noises as you both settle in for the night. The fire is low, but the night is unseasonably warm. You watch her from your peripherals, your blanket pulled tight to your chin.

She may be comfortable not setting up a watch, but you aren’t. You’ve seen too many devils try to run away when they think you’re asleep.

You grin into the dark. You can’t wait for morning.

-----------------.

Thanks for reading! I love adding twists to stories where the power shifts between two people so dramatically. The MC may have won this round, but only a very clever woman makes a deal like this devil did.

If you’d like to read all sorts of short stories that I’ve written as well as stories like this, I post a week early on my Patreon (X). 

Next week’s short story:

The Apartment

Summary: Emmaline isn't lonely. The AI in her family's apartment makes sure of that.

Thanks again for readin’!

#my writing #second person #my devil deals #deals with the devil

[curiositydooropened]

Wildfire • Ember

When Hawkins opened up and slowly slipped into the Ether, you were there on the front lines. Now, nearly two years later, after the tragic loss of your best friend, you're left without a partner and a rage building inside you like a wildfire. When you're given the option to retire or partner with your rival, Steve Harrington, you struggle to put aside your differences for the sake of the world.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 11,315

Warnings: enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slooooowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Two: Spark

---

THEN

March 1988

A strong forearm caught your waist, ripping you backward and back to reality. The ringing in your ears faded to the crackle of fire, the roar of an engine, the gut wrenching wails of heartache. You resisted the force at your ribs, rooted to your spot, slack jaw tightened, hands clenched into fists, but they were stronger. You were lifted off your feet, kicking, clawing at the air, desperate to reach the figure thirty feet in front of you. Your best friend lay there, pale skin to asphalt, shock of red hair caked in mud, a pattern of thick black veins across freckled features. Your nostrils filled with the acrid stench of charred flesh. Your mouth tasted of blood and ash and bile.

“She’s gone,” Harrington’s voice roared in your ear, chest pressed to your back as he wrestled you toward the Getaway. “We’ve gotta get out of here. We can’t risk infection. Let’s go!” He loosened his grip to hoist himself into the truck bed, extending a hand to help you up.

You had every reason to stay, every reason to hold her head in your lap and scream and sob and apologize for what happened to her, for what you did to her. 

Harrington yelled your name, drawing your attention back to him. His skin was stained black around the edges, coated in grime and oil slick with sweat. His jaw was clenched, hand still extended, and you noticed the flash of his eyes into the bed behind him.

Wheeler was there, and Byers, both staring at you wide-eyed, jaws clenched. Wheeler’s hair had never been bushier. The circles beneath Byers’s eyes never deeper. And in their arms, Robin buried her face and muffled her sobs in the crook of an elbow, blue eyes flooded, tear stains streaked through ash and char across freckled cheeks and down her chest. 

What had you done?

You swallowed.

Then, Robin reached a hand out, beckoning, commanding, begging for you to get in the truck. Her fingers trembled. 

Something deep, something hidden, subconscious, compelled you to grip Harrington’s forearm and allow him to hoist you into the truck bed, and with two slams of Byers’s fist to the roof, you were off, nearly teetering off the side as you found your seat on a wheel well. Fingers found your palm, wet, and you glanced up to gape at Robin, throat filling with too much emotion to make sound. But she held your gaze, those soulful blue eyes locked on yours so you couldn’t look away, couldn’t watch the figure of your best friend’s lifeless form fade into the horizon.

—

FIVE MONTHS LATER

August 1988

The smoke from Hopper’s cigarette wafted passed the bottle brush mustache and receding hairline until it hit the yellowed ceiling of his office and permeated the room in a thick fog. The smell, acrid and unfiltered, reminded you of your paternal grandmother’s kitchen, and it mixed with the spice of sweat from the boy perched beside you. 

Harrington sat too far forward, broad shoulders hunched, apparently fresh from the gym. You spotted the wet patch staining his t-shirt between his shoulder blades and under his arms. Beneath an elbow, his hairy thigh bounced at an unrelenting pace. You thought his sneakers might rub a hole through the linoleum flooring, clear to the Upside Down.

It took everything in your power not to slam a hand down to his knee to stop the anxious movements, your own hands clamming with sweat. You restrained, remaining poised, stoic, as you peered over Harrington’s shoulder while he rubbernecked the paperwork Hopper leafed through.

A photograph had been paper clipped to the inside cover of a forest green envelope. Two faces, pinched in stifled laughter, stared back at you, bright-eyed and bushy tailed. You recognized yourself and your best friend, full of innocence and zest and life. Hop’s meaty fingers slammed the folder shut. You swallowed.

“What’s going on, Hop?” Harrington finally vocalized, his voice a little strained. 

Hopper didn’t acknowledge him, merely stared right through the younger man to make eye contact with you, steely blue with a hint of mischief you’d maybe once appreciated. Now it made your blood run cold. “You passed your psych eval. Flying colors.”

You could feel your heart in your chest, taste the smoke on your tongue. 

Harrington’s movements stopped in your periphery.

Hopper leaned back in his seat, the metal groaning beneath his frame, and he scattered a few ashes into a full-to-the-brim ashtray. “And, as I’m sure you’ve heard, Buckley retired last week.” 

Your heartbeat halted. You wet dry lips, ventured a glance Harrington’s direction. 

He rolled his eyes, looked away, caught. A scoff spilled from his mouth.

You hadn’t known. You hadn’t spoken to Robin in months. How could you, after what you’d done? 

Hopper continued before you could respond. “So I’ve called you here with good news.” Again, mischief. The man seemed as jolly as ole Saint Nick, downright chipper. “You’re going back out there, kid.” 

You’d been asking for months, begging on bended knee, desperate for a taste of that sickly sweet air, for ash in your lungs and sweat on your brow. You’d worked your ass off for months, and yet the news, matched with the look on his face and Harrington’s presence bittered the taste of relief in your mouth. 

Again, the commander spoke before you could open your mouth to respond, his words strained through smoke blown upward. “The two of you need to log a hundred training hours starting tomorrow. After that you’ll be trialed, and you’ll undergo a double psych eval. You know the drill.” 

As his words set in, with the curl of his upper lip, your words finally burst forth, spilling from your before you could hold them back. “Are you fucking insane?” 

Slow on the uptake, Harrington’s arms swung out in front of you, and droplets of sweat from his temples splattered against your cheek with the velocity of his head shake. “No, no way. Absolutely not.” 

Hopper sighed, sitting upright again to punch out the butt of his cigarette. He shuffled the papers on his desk once more, tossing them onto a nearby filing cabinet with a hearty thwack. “Knock it off.” A meaty finger pointed directly into Harrington’s face, and the boy merely gaped at it, all sass, no action. “You two will do this because I know how bad you want back out there.”

“Besides,” Hopper made eye contact with you again, over Harrington’s shoulder, and the mischief had burned to pity, “no one else has gone through the shit that the two of you have been through.”

It hurt too much to look at him, eyes bleary and throat lumped, so instead you stared at the back of Harrington’s head, where his hair stuck up at odd angles, where it met the collar of his t-shirt. A part of you, small, wondered what exactly he’d been through, if he’d held Robin while she wept, if he cried too. A much bigger part of you tasted the anguish as it burned in your lungs. You blinked away the emotion and tried to swallow back the disdain. He’d never understand, never know what you’d been through. 

“The good news is, you’ve got a hundred hours to learn to like each other. I want you closer than the fucking Sinclairs. You hear me?” Hopper broke the tension with another groan of his chair while he reached to another stack of file folders in a little metal inbox. “Bad news is, we’ve got northbound spread and my two best Scorchers have been out for months.”

You glanced at the map behind Hopper’s head, black spreading north to the lakes, vines creeping ever closer to Chicago, Green Bay, too far. No one was safe. 

“We’ve all got work to do. So get the hell out of my office,” the receiver of his phone rang when he picked it up, pressing the plastic to his cheek while he began punching numbers. 

Harrington was up first, an exaggerated sigh falling from his lips while his slender frame made for the door. His jaw and fists tensed, brows furrowed, and he glanced at you before eliciting an eye roll that would make Wheeler envious. He turned the handle and the smoke escaped from the top of the door in a pool above the bounce of his hair. 

You matched his sigh, peeling yourself from the vinyl chair backing to exit the office. You caught a few of Hopper’s grumblings over the phone in snippets before he called your name. When you turned on your heel, he held the phone between large hands and kept a crease between his brow. 

“I know you can do this,” he nodded,  “Munson said - “ He was cut off by the voice on the phone and waved you off before he could finish his thought. 

He’d said enough to get your blood pumping. You grit your teeth and exited, ready to make a B-line from Hop’s office to the War Room to enact revenge on one Edward Munson.

Only, one meathead stood between you and the stairwell, hands poised on hips, lips upturned into the bitchiest snarl you’d seen since junior high. 

“What?” You barked, no longer having time for him when you had flatter asses to chew. You slipped past him, barely, into the well, the slap of your sneakers echoing up and down tens of floors.

“I work out in the afternoons,” Harrington responded, long legs keeping pace.

“Yeah, no shit,” you gestured to his get-up, sweat stain on his tee now dried to a normal shade of blue. 

“So, sparring mats at 2?” 

You halted your mission at the floor you needed and barred him from exiting before you. The heavy door swung closed against your hip, and you crossed your arms over your chest with a snort. “No, no way. I run in the mornings and then do weight training. We’ll spar at 5.” 

“Absolutely not,” Harrington offered a sour laugh. 

“Scorchers drop at 4.” You hoped he didn’t notice your confidence falter. It’d been so long, months, you didn’t know if they’d changed it without you, accommodated others. 

“Fine,” he seethed. “Can you swim?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Relevance? No water in the Upside Down.” 

“Seventy percent of the gates are in bodies of water. If we get stuck on the other side, our best way out is up.” 

You hated that he had a point, hated the ice that filled your stomach at the thought, hated the way your mind flashed back to that place, that time, wondering if there were any gates you missed. 

“So we should split our hours evenly between the gym, swimming, and scorch.”

Your mouth went dry, considering the heft of a fuel pack, the trigger beneath your forefinger, the acrid smell of burned flesh, the screams. 

You stumbled back against the door, but the steel didn’t sway under your weight. Harrington’s oversized hand was holding it closed, his face inches from yours, dark eyes observing your features with scrutiny. 

“How’d you pass your psych eval?” 

You blinked back at him, chill ever-present at the base of your neck. “Excuse me?” 

He stared down at you like he could see her too, like he felt her lingering thirty feet behind him, fire red hair and a crooked smile - uncanny. His nostrils flared like he smelled her too, hair on fire, skin bubbling. 

You felt frozen against the steel door, stuck under his gaze, avoiding eye contact with the nightmare over his shoulder, the expanse of grey and red just beyond. 

“Nevermind,” he sighed, releasing the door and giving you a few feet of space. 

You stumbled when the door swung wide, but caught your footing along with your breath to watch him run two hands over his face, scrubbing at tired eyes. 

“Mats at 5.” He clenched his fists and made his way up a few steps, presumably headed back to his dorm. 

“Fine,” you shot back, hating the rasp in your voice, the saliva filling your mouth. 

He halted his movements, wrapping his knuckles against a metal railing before turning back to face you. “Do me a favor? Tell Munson I’m busy tonight.”

You wanted to retort, say something childish about not being a messenger pigeon, but the words stopped at your tonsils when you saw Harrington glance once more down the corridor, down to where you’d seen her, Vicki, mouth agape, hand outstretched, before he clambered up the staircase, leaving you all alone.

—

Munson hadn’t been in the War Room, but you’d managed to distract yourself by listening to a strategy lecture being bounced off a bunch of trainees. You’d disguised yourself well-enough to be called upon to offer a few ideas, and were pleased when the instructor awarded you with praise. 

High from your distraction and the news that you’d be out there again, fighting, burning, doing what you were meant to do, you’d almost forgotten about Eddie entirely until you’d punched your meal card for dinner and found his in your cargo pocket. 

“Have you seen Munson?” You asked the girl manning the machine, and she glanced around the room with pursed lips. With a sigh, you punched his card and loaded both arms with tonight’s slop and two cold beer cans.

You took the climb to the dorms two-at-a-time and wrapped your knuckles against the cold steel of his door until you heard a muffled commotion on the other side. 

“Eddie, it’s me!” You called, shifting the weight on the orange dinner trays to be easier to hold in two hands. You heard the buzz and waited for the door to swing open before you allowed yourself to step inside, placing both trays on a rickety card table that had been set up just inside.

“Sweetheart, to what do I owe this honor?” Your friend’s walker squeaked against linoleum at his approach, and you looked up to see that Cheshire grin spread across pale features.

“Brought you dinner,” you gestured to the stew and steamed vegetables partitioned on a styrofoam plate. “We got mystery meat and I hope that’s corn, and your favorite: sawdust mashed potatoes.”

He laughed that familiar, boisterous laugh, and shook the hair from his eyes. “As delicious as that sounds… I’m going out with Steve.” 

The mention of his name sent reality spilling back into your mind. You bit back the initial sting of betrayal and moved to fill yourself a glass of water from Munson’s room sink. The countertop was piled with dirty mugs, cigarettes, nudie mags. You waited to chug an entire cup’s worth of water before you responded. “Harrington’s busy.” 

“How do you know?” He asked, voice thick with the cafeteria food you knew he couldn’t resist. 

“He told me.” You explained, crossing back to pull out his chair for him. 

Eddie didn’t move. He just stared at you, hands gripping the handles of his walker, brown gravy on the corner of his mouth. A mouthful went down with a gulp, and he blinked back at you.

“Had a meeting with Hopper today.” You elaborated, helping Munson from his walker to his chair, carrying his weight with ease. 

“If you poisoned me, they’ll know it’s you,” he pointed out, poking through the sludge with a spork. “You have a track record.” 

“Fuck off,” you growled, joining him at the table.

He held his hands up in surrender, a bit of corn careening your direction. “Okay, too soon. I’m sorry.” He snickered anyway. 

You poked at your own meal, annoyed that you couldn’t stay mad at him, despite his betrayal. He was all you had left, the only one that understood. 

“So Hopper demanded you two kiss and make up,” Eddie reached across the table to crack the tabs off each of your beer cans. “And then what happened? Don’t spare the gory details.” He clinked the two cans together, and slurped the bubbles loudly from the top of his own.

You picked yours up with a sigh, adjusting the tab to align with the printing on the aluminum. “Nothing yet. We’re sparring first thing tomorrow.” 

“Ooooh, can I watch?” He cackled.

“Absolutely not.” You took a sip, the bubbles tingling your nose with a sense of nostalgia for what once was. You remembered early mornings at the mats, dripping with sweat, pinned and pinning, Munson taking bets left and right. You’d pinned them all: Wheeler, Byers, Harrington, Buckley. You took another drink.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Eddie touched you, a hand to your forearm, calloused fingertips and sad brown eyes. God, you hated that look. 

“How long have you known about Robin?” Your voice came out a croak, sounds your mouth hadn’t made in months.

He turned back to his meal, shrugged broad shoulders. The downturn of his lips gave it away. He’d known for months. “I didn’t think she was serious.” 

The betrayal stung. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It wasn’t my place.” He shot you a pointed look, sass that rivaled Harrington’s. “You should have heard it from her.” 

You weren’t here for a lecture. You snapped back, spooning yourself some potatoes. “But it was your place to tell Hopper to pair me with Harrington? When you know what I’ve been through with him?” 

Eddie slammed his can so hard against the table bubbles fizzed from the top. 

You startled, dropping your spork back to your plate. Gravy dribbled across your chest, up your forearm. 

“You’re the one who wanted to go back out there,” he pointed an accusatory finger your direction. “Your lucky I didn’t tell Hopper to bench your ass.” 

You scoffed, licking beefy juice from your fingertips before standing to retrieve a roll of paper towels. “Like that’d stop me.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie laughed wryly. “I know it wouldn’t, and since I can’t get my legs working enough to come after you, I had to find the next best person.” 

You looked up at him from the mess you were mopping and noticed the fondness in those big brown eyes, the crease carving itself beneath pepper speckled bangs. 

“I mean, think about it. Roles reversed, who would you partner me with?” 

Although you’d never admit it aloud, Harrington was the most capable fighter in your motley crew, second only to yourself. He was a tactical master, and his heart was unmatched. He worked with speed and precision, efficiency, and you’d never seen another person go that cold in the face of the evil you’d seen. 

“Besides, haven’t you two already fucked? Just stir up some of that old sexual tension and make peace with each other.”

You smacked him with your spork as hard as you could, just over his left eye, and he swatted your arm away with a voracious laugh. You fought back the warmth spreading up your throat and to your ears, drowning more memories in a gulp of beer before they could surface fully.

“Speaking of fucking,” Eddie changed the subject, eyebrows waggled beneath his curtain bangs. “I talked to Sandra today.” 

You smiled into your sweet corn, the gentle buzz of relief settling over your shoulders. “Don’t you talk to Sandra every day?” 

“Well, sure,” And Eddie Munson proceeded to tell you about the exciting escapades with him and one of America’s Finest. 

And although you chewed, and laughed, and swatted at his arm, you couldn’t help but feel the tug of nostalgia just behind your molars. The memories that fizzled their way to the surface, of girls touching and laughing and nose-to-nose, cheek-to-cheek. Of dares. Of too much beer and too little pizza. Of arm-wrestles turned to leg wrestles, turned to sparring matches on dorm room floors. Of the freckles that lined faces and moles that cast a constellation across cheekbones and collar bones. Of breathless laughs and wandering touches. Of heat like wildfire, that fanned your skin and spread. Spread like vines and decay and smoke and ash. 

—

Harrington beefed up, shoulders impossibly square, chest broad, centered on the balls of sneakered feet. And alongside the wall of muscles, he’d grown relentless. You swung again, and again, and again, huffs of disdain escaping your lips with each stuttered breath, and your fists were caught, forearms blocked, shoulders checked. He worked lithely, without effort, all defense, prepared, like he’d been studying, but not just the fight, studying you.

You’d sparred before, sure, dozens of times over the past two years, and you’d always managed to pin him. Your fights would end in cackles from onlookers and sweat wiped from his upper lip. You’d pull him upright with a grin on your face and pride fluttering beneath your ribcage. 

Now, all mercy had been removed, any friendliness left his dark eyes cold. His jaw flexed, arms crossed over his chest while he waited for you to take a drink of water, quenching the dryness at your throat. He even dared that signature Harrington eye roll, which had the water dribbling from the corners of your mouth and down your throat, a soothing damp.

“What?” You snapped, chest heaving, plastic water bottle crunched beneath your fingertips as you sprayed more into the back of your throat.

“I didn’t say anything,” he responded, arms still crossed. 

You swished before your swallow and set your bottle next to the oversized cushion of the grey vinyl mats. The floor had already been sneaker-marked and sweat stained. You bounced on the balls of your feet, trying to bring feeling back into the numbness of your wrists and knuckles. 

Harrington readied himself, squared his stance, but remained limp. Honestly, he looked a little bored.

You grit your teeth and rounded to the right. 

He mirrored you, arms up, patient. 

You took a deep breath through your nostrils and released with a right hook. 

He dodged, caught your wrist, shoved you to the other side of the mat. 

You stumbled, caught yourself, took another deep breath, steadied yourself. 

“Again,” he called you, gesturing for you to go again, to come at him, arm’s swinging wildly without making purchase for the thousandth time. 

You were exhausted. You’d been exhausted for months, but memories crept along dorm walls the night before, and that familiar face smiled back at you from the far corner, ever-present, watching, waiting. You hadn’t sparred since then, hadn’t struck another human, hadn’t found purchase. Not since then. 

You shook it off, rounded to the left. “What’s the matter, Harrington?” Your voice brought some life back into his eyes, interest piqued. Yes, this was better, this was safe. “Scared to hit a girl?” 

You swung left, and he dodged, but you felt the hairs on his cheek prickle your wrist. You swung right, but he’d predicted it, catching both wrists and pulling them up and over your head. 

His face was inches from yours, glistening with sweat and rough with stubble. The bags under his eyes were more prominent from this distance, and you wondered if he’d slept at all himself. “I want you on the offense before I even consider teaching you defensive moves.” He shoved you back again, readying his stance. “Again.” 

“Teaching me?” You balked, resting your hands on your hips to catch the breath that had slipped away. “I seem to recall pinning your ass on the regular.” 

He grimaced at that, upper lip upturned in disgust, and he shrugged, gesturing to the ground between you. “Feels like you’ve lost your touch.” 

You swung wide, angry, fist flying through the air toward his chest.

He caught your forearm. “Looks like I can still count on you to be hot headed.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, stepping back into a ready position. You hated that he was right, hated how he always managed to find his way under your skin. 

“Take a breath,” he took a step to your left. You countered. “Anticipate me anticipating you.” 

You kicked out, knowing he’d expect another swing, but he caught your calf at his waist and held it there, pushing you backwards until you’d nearly lost balance, hopping on one leg. 

“No,” he grit his teeth. “Come on. You’re being predictable.” 

“Let go of me,” you wrestled your ankle from his grasp, nearly falling on your ass in the process. 

“I know your moves,” he explained, voice unnervingly even. “You’re a one-trick pony.”

You released a grunt, threw elbows at his opposite side, and he managed to grab you around the ribcage, holding you tight to him, your back to his front, two feet off the ground as you struggled under a vice grip. You struggled, wind nearly knocked out of you.

“We aren’t moving on until you can take me down.”

“Fuck off,” you gasped.

He released you. 

You stumbled back to your water bottle, taking a few breaths until the blur left the peripheries of your vision. You gulped between gasps, trying to strategize, trying to ignore the heated emotion prickling at your throat, behind your eyes. You couldn’t look at him, feeling like a child scolded by a school teacher, and what gave him the right?

“Did she use it against you?” His voice came softer than before, just behind your left ear. You could barely hear it over the rushing of your pulse in your skull.

You swished, swallowed, took a moment for his words to sunk in before you turned to face him. “What?” 

“Your predictability. Did she use it against you?” Harrington stood with arms crossed over his chest again, the shield he bore.

Your mind flashed to that night, flames fanned your face, all encompassing heat, structure engulfed around you. You’d gone for a hit, frantic, not in your right mind, panic icing your veins, and she’d caught your fist, just as your new partner had. Vicki’s eyes were just as cold, just as dark, a black void where your friend used to be. 

You swallowed, blinked back tears, and tried to ignore the figure growing in the corner of your mind. Harrington came back into focus, arms folded, shoulders square, sweat staining the collar of his t-shirt a dark grey. 

With steady breaths, you crossed the mat to him until you were close enough to make out the pulse in his throat, a steady beat beneath a chiseled jaw. He stared down his nose at you, contempt across features you’d once swooned over.

You felt the emotion start to well, blinked back anything that threatened, avoided his frigid gaze for half a moment, and when you glanced back, you noticed the most minute indication that he’d softened. His shoulders relaxed, chin tilted downward to look at your properly, and you remembered that everyone has a weakness. 

You sucked in your cheeks and willed a single tear to fall, just one, a hot bead that mixed with sweat as it streaked down the plane of your nose and rested, salty on the bow of your upper lip. 

Harrington’s eyes were wide, brown, soft. His nostril flared, in pity or disgust, it didn’t matter which. You’d hooked him. 

You turned your back to him, allowed your shoulders to shake with your exhale.

A sound of indignation fell from his lips, a warm breath cast upon the small hairs on your neck that sent goosebumps down your spine, and then you felt it. The softest of touches to your wrist, fingertips to calm your pulse points.

You took the opportunity, grappled his forearm and sent him flying over your left shoulder until a large body hit the mat with a satisfying thud. While Harrington gasped to earn his breath back, you pinned his shoulder beneath the toe of your sneaker, holding him to the mat. You wiped the tear from your nose with the damp collar of your t-shirt and stared down at him.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” he spat, shoving your foot from his chest to sit upright.

With a sigh, you grabbed your water bottle and retreated, shoes scuffing the linoleum. “Same time, same place tomorrow, Harrington. Bring your A game. ‘We aren’t moving on until you can take me down.’” You mocked him as you sauntered off to the showers. 

You paused momentarily when passing the double doors that exited the gymnasium into a gravel parking lot. Rusted vehicles were cast in the tangerine light of golden hour. And just beyond, under the cover of dense woods, you swore you could make out Vicki’s proud smile, engulfed in flame.

—

“How are things with Mr. Harrington?” Linda asked as though she knew the answer, and Hell, she probably did.

You were sure the exhaustion dulled your features, if not the dark circles under your eyes then the bruises that skated your arms and legs. One shone in browns and yellows on your temple from where you’d taken an accidental elbow. You’d been lectured for that for not ‘watching your space’. That man was lucky you hadn’t throttled him right there on the mat, pulse echoing against your skull. 

“Fine,”  you lied through your teeth, something you’d grown accustomed to in this cramped office. 

Linda, the government appointed therapist, walked from houseplant to houseplant, watering until they’d overgrown the room like vines in an alternate dimension. Blinking fluorescents cast green across the walls, painting her pale skin, making you feel more sick than you felt when you entered on a weekly basis. It used to be three times a week, but you were let off on good behavior.

“How did you feel when you learned that Ms. Buckley retired?” 

Your stomach churned, sickly green, and you shifted in the uncomfortable metal chair. It creaked beneath you. “I’m happy for her,” you maintained your voice, swallowed back a waver. “She weighed her options and chose a path that feels right for her.” 

Linda hummed from overtop a spider plant, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

You settled in your seat. 

“Did it make you question whether or not you’d chosen the right path for yourself?”

The fluorescents buzzed, and you squeezed your eyes closed, pinching the junction of your nose. Your temple began to throb again, and the muscles of your shoulders tightened. You were so tired, run-through, up too early all to get your ass kicked and up all night, contemplating whether or not you made the right choice.

“No one would fault you for wanting a little peace of your own. It’s not cowardly to want space from the things haunting you.” 

The monotone of her voice was like nails down a chalkboard.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I won’t find peace as long as the Ether’s still spreading.” A mantra you’d repeated time and time again, face pressed into a pillowcase to avoid the screams of horror plaguing your mind, to shield your eyes from the dense, damp expanse of forest. 

“Yes, there’s no doubt you’re dedicated to your cause.” Her tone seemed clipped, almost as if she’d picked up some of Harrington’s sass in their sessions. She set her tiny watering can atop a large wooden desk and moved to sit in the rickety chair across from you. “I just think it’s healthy for you to consider a contingency plan. What would you do if it all ended tomorrow? You’re on the sparring mats and they announce it’s done, they’ve got him, the Gates are closed. Then what?” 

You stared back at her, green blurring your vision as you mulled over her question. You’d never actually considered it, never thought what you might do should the fighting cease, should the fuel in your tank run out and you’d have to put away your worries altogether.

“What do you think Vicki would want you to do?” 

That stung. Each time her name was said aloud felt like a slice, death by a thousand cuts. You closed your eyes again, tried to will away the nausea, the smell of charred flesh, the screams.

You took a deep, calming breath and imagined a simpler time, soft hands massaging the worry from your scalp, thighs around your shoulders as you pressed tired muscles into the cushions of a threadbare couch. Sweet laughter echoed around you, the wafted smell of popcorn, truths shared under the flashes of a television screen. 

Linda’s timer beeped, an alert that your hour was up. She let out a sigh as you bolted upright from your chair. “Think about it this week and get back to me.” 

“Unless it all ends tomorrow,” you promised, flashing a grin that you know exposed too much enthusiasm. 

She muttered something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like, “we can only hope.” Before she stood to usher you outside. “Have a good rest of your day.” She chimed, always the most chipper exchange of your interactions.

You saluted and B-lined for the stairwell, in desperate need of a meal and an ice pack for the knot between your shoulder blades. 

—

The dorm hallways were eery at night, the hustle and bustle of young adults silenced, lights out. Occasionally, a bluish glow would leak from beneath doors, but otherwise the halls were lit only by glowing red EXIT signs and the circle of your torch. You snuck past the common area on tiptoe, terrified of waking the occasional trainee who had fallen asleep during movie night, not interested in asking questions. You skirted around a corner instead, to the stairwell, and began your descent on the balls of your sneakered feet.

Your backpack slumped against a sore back with each step, full of supplies you weren’t even sure you’d needed, scrounged up from a supply closet Eddie snuck you in to loot. 

In your hurry downward, you took a wrong turn, exiting the stairwell too early, and stumbled upon too many offices with dust on desktops and upturned chairs. The stillness of this floor reminded you of there and then, everything twisted with vines, particles peppering the air. 

Nearly tripping yourself backwards, you kept one eye on your reflection in the glass, and made your way back to the stairwell to continue your run, a little more blind, a little more panicked. Two, three, four floors down you saw an indicator. The exit door was propped open on a brick. The window at a eye level exposed a long, pitch black hallway, and the very end sparkled in a pale blue glow. 

You swung the door open and ran, no longer minding the slap of your feet against the flooring, only wanting to be somewhere light, somewhere where you knew you wouldn’t be alone. You almost skid through double doors, humidity smacking you in the face, and you managed to stop inches from where the floor opened up, dark water rippled against aquamarine tiled walls. 

“You’re late,” a voice startled you, and you teetered further on the edge, turning to shine your flashlight directly into Harrington’s eyes. He grimaced, shadowing his face with his hand. His hair was already wet, throat beaded in water, droplets dampened and discoloring a red t-shirt. 

You clicked off the torch and let your arm fall to your side, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. The only illumination was from the depths of the pool, recessed lighting that glowed cyan. “It’s dark in here.” You voiced your grievance, shrugging your backpack off your shoulder and toeing out of your shoes. The tiles were frigid beneath the balls of your feet.

“It’s dark out there.” He explained and rounded the oversized pool to grab a handful of items from his own rucksack. “Are you ready or do you need to…?” He gestured to you, voice echoing off the rippled water, even soft.

You managed a few steadying breaths. You weren’t nervous, per se, but a certain anxiety fluttered beneath your ribcage. You hadn’t swam in years, not since summers spent at Hawkins Pool with Vicki. You thought she’d dragged you down there to gawk at Harrington in all his glory, red trunks and tank top and whistle and sun kissed skin. She admitted later it was Heather Holloway she’d always had her eye on. The memory of squirted sunscreen and the quench of lemonade on your tongue had your fists clenched. 

The splash of something heavy cutting the surface startled you back to reality, and your eyes scanned the wake to see what it was. Your heart raced in your chest. 

“We’re going to start with the shallow end,” Harrington explained, shifting your attention back to him. You watched as nimble fingers began undoing the buckle of his watch. He toed out of his sneakers. 

“I can swim,” you retorted, self-defense growing second-nature between the two of you.

He ignored you, tugging at the back of his collar to pull his t-shirt up and over his head. That soft patch of hair from his navel to the hem of his shorts stood on end beside the gnarled roots of scars that brought your own battle wounds to shame. 

He stepped to the edge of the pool, upcast in pearly blues, and dove in. The arch of his lithe frame was perfect in silhouette, minimizing the splash and the ripple as he went in fingertips first to break the surface. You watched the shape of him approach before his head broke through, hair in his eyes, mouth agape to refill his lungs. He scrubbed chlorine from his eyes and pushed wet hair back out of his eyes. 

“I dropped a brick at the shallow end, and you need to retrieve it,” he said, sidling up to the pool’s edge at your feet. “This isn’t about whether or not you can swim. You need to be able to get all the way to the Gate and all the way back up from it. This is about form and breath work.”

His voice was the softest you’d heard it, patient. It was the way he talked to the kids, without the snark and the sass of someone pretending to be irritated with them. It was unnerving.

“Can you dive?” He asked, combing his fingers through his hair to keep the front bits at bay, cowlick at the front fighting against him. 

“Yes,” you snapped, although no, you weren’t sure you ever really had. Maybe at swim lessons in the third grade, but how in the Hell were you supposed to remember the basics now? 

You took a step to the edge before remembering your clothes. You hadn’t brought extras, and you weren’t keen on sneaking back to your dorm sopping wet. With an sigh, you released the button from the fly of your pants, pausing the moment you realized Harrington was watching. “Do you mind?” 

“Sorry,” he mumbled and turned his back.

You hated the static that prickled the stubble on your legs as you pushed your shorts down broad hips and thighs. You hated that it clung to the water’s edge, buzzed in your ears, fanned your chest with warmth as you lifted your tank top from over your head. You hated the lump your felt in your throat, exposed in underpants and a sport’s bra, not having owned a bathing suit in four years. 

“Okay,” you managed, voice thick, ready for the cool plunge to your heated skin.

Harrington turned back to face you but kept his gaze at ground level, slapping a wide palm to the tiled edge. “Step all the way up here, toes over the edge. Remember you want your thighs to power you, but you need your fingertips to break the surface first. Arms over your ears. Don’t stop until you can touch the bottom.” He spouted instructions too fast, moving to the side to give you room to position yourself for your dive. “The brick’s on the far end. Once you’ve gotten it, kick until you’ve reached the surface. Your lungs won’t let you go anywhere but up.” 

You couldn’t really hear him anyway, not over the buzzing of pool filters and the rapid heat rate in your ear. He made some minor adjustments to your stance, but you were on autopilot. And when you thought you heard the word ‘go’, you dove in. 

You felt a little awkward, but determined, the third grader in you stiffening. The water hit warmer than you anticipated, the stale underground air keeping everything tepid. When you were submerged, you kicked, lungs straining in a held breath. The faint pool light shined behind your eyelids, too anxious to open your eyes to the blur and sting of chlorine. You just ventured for the bottom, the plaster and tile that you knew would come. 

Only it didn’t. You kept kicking, and it was as if the bottom had fallen out, as if the world was swallowed whole, and panic fluttered once more at your chest. You opened your eyes, searching for a bottom, but everything felt too far. Then, a black shape entered your periphery, long, hulking, slender like a vine. Releasing bubbles, a startled scream exiting your lips, you kicked for the top, the sides, seeing the sparkle of the surface and begging for relief for the ache in your chest. 

Oxygen filled you, damp and sputtering at the moment your fingertips reached the lip. Panic stricken, you clung to the wall, knees scraping against plaster as you gasped for deeper breaths.

“That was good,” Harrington called from somewhere behind you.

You peered into the dark mist against the sting of your eyelashes. You released a shaky exhale. “I didn’t get it.” 

“I know, but your survival instinct kicked in. That’s important.” 

You felt uneasy about his comforting words, tones you hadn’t heard spill from his lips in almost a year. You rubbed at bleary eyes. 

“Come to the center and tread,” he commanded, softness replaced with the sass you were used to on the mats. “No walls in a lake.”

You grit your teeth and pushed off from the wall. 

Harrington had you tread water until your muscles burned, until that familiar hatred for one another stung in your chest and bit in exchanged words, at least then you felt more comfortable. You managed to dive properly a handful of times, making it farther and farther across the pool which each go until you’d retrieved the brick without coming up for air. He took it from your proud hand and tossed it to the deep end. 

Your lungs burned and your thighs ached, and he timed your held breath from the side of the pool, feet dangled in the water, broad shoulders slumped. You felt the heat of competition, the dopamine of getting better and better each time. Your final try, brick dumped beside him to scrape against the cold flooring, you wiped water from your eyes and had to fight back the smirk of success you felt itching at the corners of your mouth. 

Harrington sighed and slid into the water beside you, bobbing with his head just above the surface. He was close, too close, and you could just make out the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the blue light, the scar etched into his lower lip.

“I’m going to pull you down.”

You blinked back at him, seriousness in his voice tickling your nerves. “What?”

“There are things in those Gates that will try to latch onto you, to pull you into them. I’m going to pull you down, and I need you to fight me off.”

You knew he spoke from experience, you’d heard stories of the things he’d done. The idea of a large, black vine sent a chill down your spine, any competitive adrenaline replaced with cold, exhaustion, fear. 

“Go tread water.” He nodded back to the center of the pool, the expanse at which you’d finally warmed up to, a challenge you’d taken so lightly turned stone cold.

You did as he asked, pushing off from the wall until you found yourself in the center once more, legs kicking and arms pushing at the water around you, keeping you afloat. Your muscles ached with fatigue. Your entire being did, eyelids weighed by the sticky atmosphere.

Harrington’s head dunked and a chill shot through you. 

You weren’t sure if it was fear, the underlying unease you’d felt around him for almost a year now, that rivalry that turned whispered truths into snapped remarks. Maybe it was this unknown, this fear that he knew who you were, knew what you’d done, and now he’d convinced you to relinquish control. You gulped, glanced around, continued to tread. You could make out the shadow of him, just below the surface, streamlined and agile. 

You thought of him enacting revenge, on pulling you down and holding you in his vice grip. Hell, you’d do it if you were him. You’d thought about it already, imagined the swift crush of lungs as you held yourself beneath the surface. 

A creak sounded in the far corner of the room, and your eyes snapped to the double doors. They swung slightly, fog from the pool seeping through the cracks where tile met linoleum floors. You swam forward to catch a better view. You thought you saw a light just down the hall, the flash of red and orange, the crackle of lightning. 

You wanted to call out, but panic had settled too deep into your bones, and all at once a thick hand had found the meat of your thigh and you were being dragged downward, down, down, down. You gasped a deep breath, but couldn’t take your eyes from the swinging double doors, from the face that stared back at you from behind a window, wide-eyed in terror, just before you were submerged entirely.

The vine had a vice grip around you, and when you kicked, your opposite ankle was also grappled. You squirmed and fought, not-enough air choking at your lungs. Your toes felt the breadth of something wide, a chest, and you tried to push off of it, but down, down, down you went. Your arms struggled toward the surface. Familiar flames fanned the shoreline in oranges and golds, the smell of acrid smoke filling your nostrils, burning your lungs, blearing your eyes. 

You fought and fought, but she was staring back at you, that sickening smile on her face, and you knew you’d fought long enough. It was time to let go. You had no other choice.

Your back hit something hard, a crack that jolted the water from your lungs. You sputtered, eyesight dark around the edges, coughing in an attempt to expel whatever remained. You rolled on your side, hair strewn in tendrils beneath your mouth, body numb, mind numb. You weren’t sure where you were, only that it was freezing, and your muscles all began to spasm in an attempt to warm up. 

“Why the fuck did you do that?” A familiar voice called out, garbled under the thunder of your pulse in your skull. 

You willed your eyes to open, to focus on the sparkling water beneath you, the cyan lights. Harrington’s face was inches from your own, eyes dark, a crease between thick brows. 

“Fuck!” He ran a hand down wet features, and you tried to regain any semblance of what had happened before he’d tossed you like a rag doll onto the side of the pool. He swam to the nearest ladder and pulled himself out. 

You rolled onto your back, stuttered breath gathering momentum again, and stared at the dark ceiling of the indoor pool. You were here, and you were training, and… You glanced sideways at the double doors. They were still, hall dark just beyond. You lifted a weak hand.

Harrington crouched at your side, pressing a wide palm to the curve of your throat, forefinger finding your pulse. He clicked the fingers of his other hand in front of your eyes, trying to get you to focus.

Annoyed, you swatted him away and tried to sit up. 

“Will you slow down? You hit your head.” He spat, pinning your shoulder gently to the tiled floor.

You did feel a pulse where his hand reached to cup your skull, and you reached back with shaky fingertips. The wetness was warmer there, knotted into the hair near the crown. You pulled your hand back to see your fingertips smudged with crimson. You winced. 

“Shit,” Harrington stood to procure something from across the room, his red t-shirt, and he shoved the material under your head, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. It just made the dull throb worse. “Can you talk?” 

His fingertips found your pulse again, large palm splayed out across your collarbone, honeyed eyes searching your own. His body was warm, ribcage pressed against your hip, and you wanted to curl into him, your teeth chattering.

“‘M cold,” you croaked, the sound producing another fit of coughs that burned like hellfire at your chest, rocketing you nearly into his nose.

He grabbed your wrist and placed your hand firmly to the t-shirt soaking your blood and stood to pull something from his bag on the floor.

Your coughs sent you sideways again, spewing more liquid onto the ground beside your head. The tiles had begun to swirl with blood.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His grip on your shoulder rolled you back to make eye contact. The room clouded around him, and you squinted, feeling your eyelids grow heavy. “Shit. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Your body rattled. It took too long to process that he had wrapped you in a towel and was trying to warm your arms with the friction of his hands. Exhaustion crept into your bones, a slip of warm darkness that you could find in his embrace, safety.

“Whoa, stay awake. Come on, let’s get you up. We have to take you to the Med Bay.” 

Your head throbbed as he pulled you upright, and you winced, pressure loosening on your skull. You groaned and tried to think through the fog, although exhaustion fought to win. 

Strong hands wedged themselves beneath your armpits and hoisted you upright, and you struggled to get your legs to carry your weight beneath you, but they did. Your body obeyed as your head throbbed, and you felt a trickle of warmth cascade down your spine while Harrington scrambled to grab the rest of your belongings. 

You stared back at the double doors, wincing as your torch lit up, light reflecting off of their insulated windows. “There’s someone out there.” You croaked, swaying on weak knees.

“It’s just the flashlight,” your partner snapped from beside you, one arm gripping your bicep, the other placing the ice cold metal of your flashlight into your weak hands. “Hold this.” His other hand met the t-shirt at the back of your skull to keep pressure.

“No,” you swallowed, throat raw, coughs emitting with each attempt to speak. “I saw them. I panicked.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” he scoffed, leading you slowly out of the room and into the black hallway beyond. “Hopper’s going to fucking murder me.”

You shined your light toward the stairwell, crisp white against a grey background. You saw no movement, heard nothing but the soft patter of your feet against the floor. 

“Nope, elevator. I’m not carrying you up fifteen flights of stairs.” Harrington steered you the opposite direction, toward a massive elevator on the North side of the building. It was old. The pulley system too loud against the thundering in your skull once the doors pulled themselves open.

You allowed him to lead into the square box, eyes wincing against the overhead lighting. You let him hold you upright against the railing on the back wall, relaxed easily into his hold, one hand catching on his forearm. 

He leaned forward to press a button, and just as the door slid closed, you saw a face, glowing blue in the light from the pool, eyes dark and smile menacing.

—

For the first time in two years, you’d managed to fall asleep the moment your head hit the pillow, and what would have been the best night of sleep in your life involved a nurse coming in at every hour to wake you from your slumber. Your body ached, and your eyelids were heavy, and with every soft prod, you wished you had the strength to lift your fist and strike at the woman with brute force. 

You were released after twenty-four hours, lactic acid stiffening your joints and ten times crankier than before, and you limped from the med bay up the stairs to your dorm for some peace and quiet. 

Each dorm unit contained a bed, a closet, a sink and countertop, an aluminum table and chairs. Some people had couches, others managed lazy boys and a television set. Your new room had been kept at a minimum: bedding stark white, trash can piled in the corner, belongings shoved into a green duffle bag in the corner. The only bit of personality was tucked away beneath the covers of a photo album on top of your bedside table. You hadn’t opened it in months.

You shrugged out of your military issue clothes, peering at your reflection in the mirror above the sink. Your body, though stronger than you’d ever looked, was covered in bruises and scars. A long burn mark painted your left side, puckered skin. With a sigh, you pulled a tank top and sleep shorts from your duffle and stepped in, considering a shower when you’ve woken up.

You crawled from the foot of your bed to the pillow, sheets just as scratchy as those in the medical ward, but the mattress was far squishier. Your muscles begged for the rest, too stiff around the shoulders and thighs. You sighed and buried your face into the pillow, the throb in your skull only slightly subsided. 

Then, you heard a knock at the door.

The red numbers of your alarm clock indicated you’d slept for three hours. The ruckus in the hall indicated everyone had finished their breakfast. You groaned and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, grabbing your second pillow to shove over your head, blocking the sun pouring in from an overhead window and the squeak of sneakers outside.

Knuckles wrapped a little harder. Your name was called along another few words muffled under the fluff of your pillow. 

“Go away!” You called into the abyss, and something in the back of your mind reminded you of the gruff man with the oversized mustache. You groaned and rolled, painstakingly, out of bed. 

The knocking returned, and you limped as fast as you could, calling over their yells for you to hurry up. You grit your teeth past the pain in the back of your head and swung the door open to expose Eddie Munson, hair pulled back into a ponytail, grin etched across sunken features. “Morning, Sunshine!” 

You had half a mind to slam the door back in his face. 

However, he raised his hand, shaking some poppy seeds off an everything bagel, and your stomach growled in response. 

You snatched the bagel from his hand and stepped aside to let him stumble in, walker almost too wide for the doorways. 

“Rumor has it Harrington carried you into the Med Bay in your underpants,” he said loudly before you had a chance to shut the door.

You caught the snicker of trainees, and you shot them death glares before slamming the heavy panel into it’s place. 

“Glad to see you two made up.” He pulled a cup of cream cheese from his pocket, and it clattered on your table beside a plastic knife. You helped him sit, both of your legs shaky on the descent. The table teetered under his weight, but he managed to remain upright in his chair. “Did he have to pound a concussion into you though?” 

You rolled your eyes, tried not to imagine a world in which his teasing could be factual, and shoved your thumb into the seam of your bagel to open it. “As much as I hate to pop your little fantasy bubbles, Edward, that’s about the farthest from what actually happened.” You seated yourself across from him and popped the top of the cream cheese container to start your spread. 

“So tell me what actually happened.” Eddie said, voice eerily even, “Because overhearing a total stranger say something about your best friend being held over night in medical is not how I wanted yesterday to go.”

You looked up from your spread and into big, brown eyes. Eddie Munson was known for his jokes, his pleasant demeanor, his incredible ability to strategize. He wasn’t known for his temper, but you’d seen it a handful of times, patience tested, that burn behind his eyes. 

You shirked under his stare, sealed the lid back on an empty container, took too big of a bite. You wedged the creamy goodness into one cheek, licking the corner of your lip to respond, hoping to sound more nonchalant than you felt. “It really wasn’t a big deal. We were training in the pool.” 

“This place has a pool?” He leaned forward, brows creased, arms folded across a slender frame.

You shrugged, swallowed. “Yeah, lower levels. Anyway, we were underwater, and…” You thought for a moment about what happened, everything blurred under the waves, the pressure in your chest, Harrington’s large hands gripping your thigh, the face staring back at you from the doorway. 

“And what? You went bonk?” Eddie snapped.

You blinked back to him and shrugged. The taste of garlic had turned to ash in your mouth. You tossed the remnants onto the tabletop and wiped poppyseeds off on bare thighs. They rolled onto the chair, the ground around you.

“You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?” His voice was quiet now, and when you snapped to meet his gaze, he was staring at the scrapes in the linoleum tabletop, knife wounds that had peeled through styrofoam. “Because I get it, you know? I’ve been there, too. After all those people I hurt…” He trailed off.

You reached across to grip his knuckles in your hand, pulling him to look at you. “Eddie, that wasn’t you. That was him. We all know it.” 

“And what happened to Vicki wasn’t on you.” He responded, nostrils flared, strong hand gripping your own. 

You swallowed back the lump growing in your throat. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” you said, and you wondered if you’d meant hitting your head in the pool or getting lost in the woods, getting Vicki flayed, pulling the trigger, watching the flames dance, hearing the screams.

You thought of the face above the water, the glow beyond the doors, this fear building in your chest like an ember of something you couldn’t put your finger on, this dull pulse you felt when everything else went away. You looked at your friend, dark hair and dark eyes and made a choice. “Eddie,” your voice shook. “I can still see her.” 

He squeezed your hand, nodded. “That’s normal. It’s a trauma response, I think, like a phantom limb.” He patted his thigh, and you recalled the mechanics of a prosthetic ankle beneath the hem of his pant leg. “What did Linda tell you?” 

You picked up your bagel again and tore it into halves. “I haven’t told Linda.”

Eddie breathed your name like a warning. “What do you mean you haven’t told Linda?” 

You dropped your bagel again and buried your face in your hands. The back of your head had begun to throb, and your eyes ached and crusted with sleep. “Eddie, come on. I had to get back out there, and you know I wouldn’t have passed my psych eval if the shrink knew I was hallucinating on a regular basis.”

“Jesus fucking Christ…” 

“Eddie, you can’t tell anyone,” you reached out to grip his hand again. “Please, please. I’m sixty hours from reassignment. I just got a new partner.” 

“Does he know?” 

You scoffed, tried to mask your eye roll by throwing your entire head back into a stretch. The pounding on your head increased, and you had to cradle your head in your hands once more.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why have you now dragged me into this?” Eddie hissed, and when you peered through your fingers, you saw his stance mirrored yours, hands in his hair, annoyance stretched across thin features. 

And you debated keeping it from him, hiding that fear that had fanned the flames in the back of your mind for months now, but it was surfacing, each day coming closer and closer to having you by the throat. “Because I saw something else at the pool, someone else was there with us,” you let out a ragged breath. “And I don’t think it was…” Your throat caught on her name. “Her.” 

His expression dropped, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He glanced around your dorm room, crossing his arms over his chest before he looked back at you. “What are you talking about?” His voice trembled.

You shrugged, shook hair from your eyes. “I don’t know, Ed. There was someone else down there. I saw the door swing open. I could see a face staring back at me from over the surface. There was someone in that room, and when I came to, they were gone.” 

“Did Steve see them?” Your friend frowned, leaned toward your once more.

As if on cue, a loud knock wrapped at your bedroom door. You both startled upright, your heart beat racing in your chest. “Who is it?” You called, hands gripped the tabletop to stop them from shaking. 

“Steve,” came the short response, muffled through the thick door. 

“Steve who?” Eddie joked, lifting himself from his chair with some difficulty, any worry or hurt erased from the expression on his face. You hurried to help him before using one hand to open the door. 

“Sorry, I can come back,” Harrington’s features were etched in that signature scowl, dressed in uniform, bright orange breakfast tray loaded under one arm. 

“No, no,” Eddie waved him off. “I was just leaving. You can have her.” He leaned to press his lips to the shell of your ear before whispering, “we’ll finish this later.” 

You squirmed under the heat of his breath, and Harrington stepped aside to let Eddie through and into the hallway. 

“Be gentle with her this time, will ya?” Eddie’s mouth split into a grin.

Your eyes nearly rolled back into your skull, and you flipped him the bird. “Fuck right off.” 

Once your best friend had cackled his way down the hall, sneakers and walker squeaking, and a familiar, anxious buzz had settled into your bones, you gestured for Harrington to enter your little apartment. You closed the door behind him and felt suddenly self conscious of the trash piling up and over the can, the dishes dirty in the sink, the cream cheese smeared across your tabletop. 

“You should be resting,” he chided, sliding the orange tray onto the table beside your breakfast.

“Eddie brought me food,” you explained, as though you needed an excuse.

“A bagel isn’t food. You need protein and electrolytes, vitamins.” 

You glanced at the plate he brought: bacon and eggs, roasted potatoes, a glass of milk, a small orange. “Thanks, Dad.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arm over your chest, suddenly aware of the breeze against your bare thighs, the pebbling of your nipples beneath a thin tank top. You swallowed.

“How’s your head?” He asked after a long moment’s pause, vowels stilted like he’d forgotten how to be nice to you. You suppose you both had. It’d been so long. 

You swallowed back an innuendo, shrugged, reached to itch at the bruised skin around the scab. “She said it just a minor concussion. Should be good to get back to work by Monday.” You felt yourself shift on uncomfortable feet, the air buzzing with that odd static you felt in the pool.

Harrington nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his tactical pants, rocking on the balls of his feet. 

You felt sick, knowing it’d come to this, that you’d been brought to awkward conversations and niceties. You used to be close, dangerously close. You used to be able to reach out and touch him, to push that stray hair out of his eyes. You used to make jokes, to laugh. You released a scoff, shook the memories from your pounding head. “Look, we don’t have to do this.” 

He looked up at you then, jaw clenched, broad chest steadily rising and falling. 

“You don’t have to pretend to care about me. They partnered us up because we both want to get back out there. We have sixty hours of training left. The rest of the time doesn’t need to be spent together. You can be my drill sergeant and after training, we go our separate ways.” You confirmed, crossing to your duffle bag to retrieve a sweatshirt. You shoved it aggressively over your head and put your arms through, sick of feeling scrutinized under his gaze.

“Drill sergeant?” He seethed, rounding the table to meet you near the foot of your bed. 

“Oh come on, Harrington,” you rolled your eyes. “You’ve been chewing my ass like fucking beef jerky since we left Hopper’s office. You’re acting like you’re training me for the Olympics, and I’m letting you, by the way, because it’s easier to keep the peace and take your bullshit than argue with you.” 

“Oh, right,” he scoffed. “You’ve been ‘keeping the peace’. Please, explain to me the fight-back I get on everything I say. Enlighten me, princess.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you shoved at his chest.

He didn’t budge. “Push through me.” He instructed.

You grit your teeth and did as he asked. The heels of your hands made contact and had him stumbling back a good five feet.

He caught himself on your chair. It creaked under his weight. “Good.” 

“Shut up,” you stood at full height, clenched your fists at your sides, ready to swing.

“Did you ever consider that I’ve been bossing you around because I don’t know if I can trust - ” He swallowed, broad chest heavy, eyes scanning your features.

“What?” You narrowed your eyes, fear crawling up your esophagus, burning in your throat. 

“…you.” 

All of your fears confirmed, that you couldn’t be trusted, that it was all your fault Vicki got lost, all your fault she was flayed, all your fault you couldn’t handle her, couldn’t take her, all your fault she died. All your fault your friends abandoned you. All your fault you lost him, too.

Flames fanned your skin. Your eyes glazed over, your hands trembled. You tried to reason with him, with yourself. “I didn’t mean for… any of it. I didn’t ask for it to happen.” 

“But it did.” His tone was dark, low, unyielding. 

You glanced back at him in time to see his hand run through his hair. 

He released his shoulders in a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re better on the field than off. I was really just coming to see when you’d be ready to get back on your feet.” He wrapped his knuckles against the tabletop.

You shivered under his frigid monotone. 

“We should start with Scorch on Monday. I think we’re supposed to get a heatwave, so let’s try for the evening again.” He was commanding, cold, walking to your bedroom door. 

“Okay,” you managed. Your neck ached from the whiplash of the encounter, of the last week of your life, the last year. 

“Get some rest.” He said before exited, a command. 

When the door clicked closed, you let out a yell of frustration, swatted at a nearby chair until it tipped to the ground, clanging loudly as the metal bounced.

---

Chapter Two: Spark

[A/N: I've honestly been working on this fic for so long. It's my baby. I've grown too attached. And I honestly cannot wait to share it with the world. Thanks so much for reading xo]

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington wip #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington enemies to lovers #eddie munson #robin x vickie #stranger things fic

[bangtaninborderland]

Risk It All (24) - TORN

Genre: Chishiya X fem reader | violence | smut

Warning: this chapter contains smit - fingering, nipple play and some Dom/Sub themes.

A/N: this is the last “happy” chapter it picks up from here leading to the final game, im so excited to have it reverse a little and have Chishiya being the one in a compromised position. It’s time for YN to shine. There’s not much plot to this chapter, but it is essential for moving the story along.

Ch. 23| Masterlist | ch.25

Chishiya had let you stay pressed against his body, only moving you both to the bed at some point, for the duration of your sleep. The sky was still dark when you woke up, head resting against Chishiya's stomach as he sat up reading a book.

“How do you read in the dark?”

He tutted, closing the book. “With my eyes.”

“Will you play with my hair?” You grumbled, still too wrapped up in the embers of sleep to fully understand your own request. You pouted at the long wait, snuggling into him further as his fingers came to brush your hair out of your face.

His movements were awkward, unfamiliar to him as his hand was stiff but still you revelled in it. Enjoying the touch, the affection you’d craved for so long. “You ask too much of me.”

That caught your attention, you snapped your head up, sliding to move away from him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Stop.” His words were firm, with a hint of dominance to them, you looked at him unmoving. “I didn’t say move, I said you ask too much of me.”

“Oh.” You chewed your lip, confused at what to do next. You figured it would be best not to push it so you settled for laying next to him rather than on him.

“What are you doing?” He asked, voice strained.

“I- will-“ you gestured to your position on the bed, clearly you were lying down. “What do you think.”

“I didn’t tell you to move.” He says again and you slowly catch on, heat rushing to your cheeks as you shift to lay back on him, the same way you were minutes before. “You don’t listen well.”

“I never had to listen to others. Besides you aren’t exactly the most eager to explain.” You snort. “Not all of us operate on a 5 word basis.”

“Wow, you don’t listen and you talk too much.” You can practically hear his eyes rolling.

“Did you just wow me?” You laughed, unable to not think about the irony of someone like Chishiya saying wow. “Say it again.”

“You’re so annoying.” He sighs, pulling you to sit up. “Stop talking.”

“Say wow again and I will. You’re so sassy.” You joked, you saw him clench his jaw at that and for some reason, you could stop pushing. “Come on sassy pants.”

“Do you want me to lock you outside?” He deadpans, his lips in a tight line. “You’re impossible.”

“For someone so scary you sure as hell are afraid of a simpl-“ your words were cut off as he lunged forwards, lips colliding with yours. You fall backwards, the bed softening your fall. His hands instantly find your wrists, pinning them to your sides as he continues to kiss you. You try and fight back against him, not because you want him to stop but because you want control, You try to push your tongue against his, wanting to be the one to lead the kiss but your attempts are futile as he pulls back a little and bites your lip. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it. Stop talking, stop thinking.” He rasped out, and the tone of his voice made your legs go weak, You took a breath nodding.

He finally kisses you again after what feels like an eternity. This time you go plaint under his touch, happily accepting the kisses he divulges to you. Your lungs are begging for oxygen, your throat burning but you don’t push him away, much to your embarrassment you whine a little as he pulls away.

You can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips as he chuckles, shushing you. “Don’t be a baby.”

“You-“ your head is hazy, a feeling you’d never felt before. You probably wouldn’t voice it aloud but you enjoying Chishiya being that way, being a little controlling. “More.”

He shakes his head, sitting back on the back. “If we do more it will lead to something else.”

“Okay.” You say before really processing what he means.

He raises his eyebrows, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “Stop talking before you think about things. There’s no rush.”

“But I want to.” You protest. Pushing yourself up so you’re sitting cross-legged opposite him. “Do you?”

“Not if you fight for control again.” He shrugs, something about the way he looks unbothered encourages the thrum of excitement underneath your skin.

“I won’t.” You promise, holding out your pinkie. “I swear it.”

“You and your promises. One day they are going to land you in trouble.” He tuts, you lay back, still able to see him even though he’s a little further back.

“Are you going to kiss me or are you just going to sit there?” You teased, reaching a hand out to him. “I’m getting bored.”

“Patience.” He leans down, his frame towering over you. “You’re always too doing things too fast, rushing.” Despite how harsh the words could sound they simply don’t, the smirk on his face only confirms he’s playing with you.

You can feel his breath against your lips as he lowers himself to you, within reach but still far enough that you have to lift your head to kiss him. The second your lips graze his , he pulls back a little further. “Chish-“

“I told you to stop rushing.” He chides, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “What happened to your promise hm?”

“I-I am, I do promise I just want you to kiss me.” You can’t help but pout, he was being mean.

He let out a breathy laugh at that. “Close your eyes.”

You follow through instantly. You feel him move his hand over your hip, trailing the outside of your shirt before resting against your jaw. The touch disappears but you don’t panic as his lips come into contact with yours, this time you let him take the lead, kissing him back softly.

It goes on like that for a minute or so before he presses his body against you. Pulling away from your lips to trail kisses down your jaw to your shoulder. “How do you feel?” He asks, breathless.

You feel dazed as you look at him, you can just about muster a nod. “More?”

“More what?” He asks, his hand gently caressing your face. “Tell me.”

“Want more of you, with you.” You explain, your tongue feeling too heavy to move. “Now.”

He shuffles on the bed and ends up sitting with his back against the headboard. “Come here.”

You crawl over to him, sitting beside him for a second before he pulls you into his lap, leaving you straddling him. “There, much better.” He hymns to himself.

He kisses you again, this time with more force, his hand gripping the back of your neck, his fingers slightly entangled in your hair. “Desperate.”

You didn’t even realise you’d begun to grind down on his thigh, you looked down in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“Is it making you feel good?” He whispers the question as he ticks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You look up at him through your lashes before nodding.

“Then don’t stop.” He shrugs, tensing his thigh underneath you.

You gasped at the light friction and found yourself being pulled back against him. This time his mouth latching onto your neck, you moaned at the suckling on the sensitive skin and you ground down, this time with a purpose. “S’ good.”

You knew he would be leaving a trail of marks along your neck but you didn’t mind, not as you felt your pussy slick up against his thigh. Before you could get too caught up Chishiya flipped you both over. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fingers..” you whined. “Want your fingers.”

“Still demanding.” He scolded, eyebrow cocked. “Is that how you ask?”

“Please?” You pouted at him, just wanting him all over you. “I want to feel you.”

“That’s good.” He smirks before pulling your shorts down, you lift yourself up from the bed just enough to allow him to slip the item off.

He brought his fingers to your mouth and without any prompting you parted your lips, letting the digits slip inside. You coat them in saliva, working your tongue around them. Chishiya watches with hooded eyes before clearing his through. “Enough.”

You instantly let your jaw go slack, his fingers trailing down your body before slipping between the folds of your pussy. You bite your lip stifling a moan.

Chishiya tuts at that. “Let me hear you.”

His fingers slide inside and this time you let out a deep moan, the sound echoing off the walls. “Fuck, faster.”

He doesn’t give you enough time to finish your sentence before thrusting his finger up, curling them around to graze over your gspot. “Such a demanding little thing but when my fingers are inside of you all you can do is whine and curse, adorable.”

“I-wa-want.” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, his free slipped under your shirt, his fingers pinching at your nipples. Pleasure surrounded you, a pressure began building in your stomach. You lazily lifted your shirt over your tits, pulling your bra up with it.

Without a single word from you Chishiya began sucking on the sensitive bud. His thumb brushed over your clit and that was enough to send you tumbling over the edge into the cloud your orgasm brought you. Chishiya kept pumping his fingers into you through it, even as your moans turned into desperate whines. “Such a good girl.”

“T-Thankyou.” You stuttered.

He nodded, smiling at you. “Just take a breath, stay here, I'll get you some water.”

“But I thought you said-“You stumbled over your words, eyes wide as you watched him climb off the bed. on “You don’t want to?” Although it may have been a stupid thought you still felt sad by it, disappointed.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He shakes his head as he hovers in the doorway. “We don’t know how this world works and we don’t have condoms. I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of pregnancy being achievable. I’ve got to do a grocery run later so I’ll see what I can find.”

That made sense. “Oh…okay.”

“Relax.” He chuckles, his footsteps quietening as he walks to grab some water. He returns shortly after handing you a small cup. “How do you feel?”

You felt…strange. Not sad but you wanted to be wrapped up in a blanket and , hugged. “Okay.” You lied.

He stood from the bed, walking over to the pile of clean clothes on the shelf handing you both underwear and a pair of his sweatpants. “Get dressed, I’ll read to you.”

You smiled at that, happy that he cared enough to make sure you were okay. “Thank you.”

“You lied when you said you were okay, Don’t do that again.” He’s firm and you can’t disagree.

You feel slightly disappointed with yourself that you messed up such a good moment.“Sorry.”

He huffs, grabbing your wrist. Forcing you to look at him. “What did you do wrong?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re apologising, so you’ve done something wrong. What is it?” He asked, expectantly.

You frown. “Nothing just.. I should have been honest.”

“You should have, you weren’t, next time you will be.” He doesn’t sound angry or upset and you find comfort in that.

“Okay. Next time I will.” You agree, hopefully, he will be just as honest.

The rest of the day passes quickly, Chishiya heats up a tin of soup for you to share before checking your wounds, declaring them okay, and then he sticks to his word- reading to you with you both snuggled underneath the covers.

He was touchy, much more so than usual but you didn’t comment on it, afraid that if you did it would stop. If he wasn’t rubbing your back he was playing with your hair, every now and again he would lean over and place a kiss on the back of your head. You marvelled at the touches, feeling truly safe and content for the first time since this whole thing started.

Soon enough the sun began to set and Chishiya declared he was going to go and find some groceries. You pleaded to go with him but he denied it, although your arm was getting better it wasn’t entirely there and he didn’t want to risk it.

You decided you’d spend the time making dinner, as nice as you could. You found some canned meat and vegetables in the cupboard along with a single bag of noodles. It would all do to put together a simple meal.

You got to work, boiling the water for the noodles, chopping up and frying the tinned meat and heating up the mixed vegetables.

You left it all to sit on the camping stove, wanting to keep it warm for his return.

You were just about to settle down and prepare some board games for you to enjoy after dinner when the door slammed open.

“Yn!” Chishiya pants, falling in the door, the overpacked backpack dropping with a thud.

“What- oh my god!” You scream, rushing over. You fall beside him, eyes wide at the open gash on his abdomen. “What the fuck happened!”

“I was getting food. Someone - fuck.” He hissed hands cupping the wound. “I need you to clean it up and stitch it.”

“I can’t-“Physically you can’t.

“I’ll die if you don’t. I’ll lose too much blood.” He chokes out, his breath shallow.

You took a steadying breath, you could do this. “How, what do I do.”

“Need you to” he bites his lip trying to quieten the sounds of his pain. “Get the first aid and alcohol. I’ll tell you from there.”

You scramble your way to the small cupboard bag that holds the items Chishiya listed. Your hands were trembling so you took a quick, deep breath, steadying yourself.

He had healed you countless times, now you’d do the same for him, the only difference?

You didn’t know how to save a life.

#aib netflix #murakami nijiro #nijiro murakami #alice in borderland #aib chishiya #aib #chishiya alice in borderland #kuina alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #chishiya x reader #chishiya imagine #chishiya smut #chishiya x you #arisu smut #arisu x reader #niragi smut #aib niragi #niragi x reader #kuina x reader #kuina smut #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya fanfic #chishiya x y/n #chishiya headcanons #chishiya angst #chishiya fluff #niragi fluff #arisu fluff #chishiya #niragi fanfiction

[missamyrisa2]

Wakey wakey~

You find yourself struggling on the curiously shaped padded white exam table which slopes downward from your head ~ the thick straps keep your arms forward your waist is similarly held snug, your legs are gently spread with enough wiggle room to kick nervously ~ particularly as the hum of machinery starts and viewing panels open from all sides high above. Shadowy figures seen glaring down at your plight are joined by the glowering red lights of observation equipment winking to life all around ~ your protests and squeaks echo around the sanitized room, the humming becomes a buzz as you sense the presence of something heavy and imposing approaching your legs~

You can kick all you like, the machinery can't be deterred as it deploys padded probes to the backs of your legs and begins stimulating with tickly tingly vibrations. Activity rises in the observation deck and the equipment feeds on your reactions, every noise and twitch and struggle is captured and analyzed ~ you can almost see the line of data pulsing through the equipment as every big reaction causes the machine to recalibrate and further massage on your most sensitive spots behind your knees and up the backs of your thighs ~ annnd up to your tush, humming and stimulating your booty to its satisfaction~

Your squeaks turn to giggles and gasps, the relentless machinery cataloging your body and coaxing it of all the sensitive secrets. You feel spent and worked over, probed and defeated ~ and yettt ~ the treatment is only starting. The machinery surges in energy, the probes attach to the backs of your thighs and tush cheeks in strategic locations. With a gentle push they hold you taut, hold your cheeks gently apart ~ as the machine spools up its routine and the sound of spinning orbital buffers fills the room. Their progress is temporarily delayed by a swarm of mechanical hands, clicking as they flex their fingers and work hurriedly to spray your rear quarters with a cleansing solution. Others follow behind with soft wipes, working away the imperfections. This attention, mechanical or not, puts you into a fury of blush and gasps ~ and it does not go unnoticed.

You glance back and see them approach. Your protests and pleads fall on nonexistent sound receptors. The machine cannot be bargained with. The observers above certainly hear your begs as the soft whirling surfaces are approaching your twitchy sensitive spots, and note each one. Soft motorized fluff invades the curves of your back legs, buffing in lines to maximize your stimulation. Two more join them, deployed at the curves under your buttcheeks. From your vantage point they are a blur of green but you absolutely feel every soft fiber as it is whipped over your skin, barely touching yet drawing out so much sensation ~ and giggles.

With a whine, another piece of equipment deploys. You shriek uselessly seeing the wheel approaching with a buzz. Each spoke sprouts a feather of soft stiffness, and the circle begins turning slowly as it is brought closer and closer between your legs. At first it's the tiniest breeze, teasing at your honey spot and royal area and edges of your tush cheeks. You think you can handle it, maybe even find it a good distraction from the buffers as they polish around your legs and behind your knees now. But then it grows closer. The breeze becomes a slowly growing itch, a little ember of want. Every feather slides down and caresses between your cheeks, over your hole and downward. That slow path quickly becomes worn in with gigglish sensation~

You get the slightest respite between feathers, but their time tickling at your line of ticklishness grows. The wheel is now slowing slightly each time a feather makes contact, then picks up speed after it passes your royal area. The adjustments are slight but they draw out your ticklish agony so much. The activity above rises. Eyes are stuck to glass, notes are taken rapidly. The equipment is burning hotly trying to consume all your data.

And then the wheel reverses~

You scream out in desperate wanting needing laughs. The feathers caress one after another after another, touching your royal area with the slightest slap before passing you to the next. The kiss at your honeyspot becomes an explosion of tickles. The wheel never stops turning. The buffers taunt and work to engage with skipping motions between each feather touch so that you are constantly passed back and forth from sensations. You want it so badly, you want that release. More buffers add to your desperation, their fluff invading under your toes and along your soles. Your muscles ache, your royal areas throb. Your whimpers only seem to encourage the operators, as you can start to recognize the motions above precipitating another surge of machine activity.

When your mewling overtakes your giggles, the wheel pulls back to give the taunting breeze so the buffers can work around your cheeks and small of your back and even sneak at your hips to make you buck and laugh. When your laughs become high pitched and silly, the orbital discs slow and the wheel engages at full contact to make you moan and giggle and yelp for more.

And more you get ~ as with a flurry of motion in the observation deck followed by what appeared to be a minor debate, the room trembles and through a complex set of mechanical squirms and shrieks, you find yourself flipped over, facing skyward under brightening observation lights. Strapped down tightly, legs gently spread, the wheel soon approaches once more surrounded on all sides by snaking orbital buffers ~ and a burst of newcomers, their intense blue-white lights igniting as they buzz furiously like a swarm of bees. Tiny spotlights illuminate under your arms, around your tummy, in your navel, along your neck, over your chest buttons, on your hip dips, and between your toes. The vibrating tools begin their humming inquisition as if questioning your hot spots with their tips right as the buffers make strides across your longer tickle zones - sides, ribs, arms, legs, and thighs. And that wheel, that wicked wicked wheel, extends its feathers once more and begins the endless caress over your royal area.

You want the ticklecum so bad~

and can only hope it's on the menu today~