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madelynraemunson · 3 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

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flightlessangelwings · 10 months

Text

Mando M.C.

Biker!Din Djarin x fem!reader Word count- 6.1k Prompts- AU fic, hurt/comfort, “Do you trust me?” “You can’t go until I tell you” “I can’t stop thinking about you” Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), biker au, hurt/comfort, pining, feelings, protective!Din, attempted kidnapping, nondescript violence, minor character death, reader is a sex worker and uses “Amarilis” as a fake name (it’s explicitly said so), same no removing helmet rules, no use of y/n Notes- Written for @pedrostories 1k celebration, congrats you guys y’all deserve it!! The fake name "Amarilis" is a nod to my good friend @olliwan-kenobi own biker!Din au which I have a cameo in under that name, so it's something special to me! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I just can never get enough of biker au's!! And we respect sex workers in this house (and so does Din and the rest of the Mandos)!! Enjoy!! @flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post new fics! Moodboard made by me! The Din vibes in that right pic are immaculate omg!

The roar of the motorcycle echoed in the wind as the Mandalorian drove down the open road. It was a crisp, bright Nevarro day, and the long winding road was the biker’s for the taking. On the sleek black and silver bike, he could go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. But right now, there was only one place he wanted to be.

“Welcome back, Mando,” the lady of the house greeted his helmeted form as he stepped through the familiar doors.

“Madame Luna,” he nodded his head in a friendly greeting.

Neither of them knew the other’s true identities; no one used their real names behind the doors of the brothel. Madame Luna, the beautiful, tall and commanding mistress was in charge here, and she always made sure her girls were safe, protected and taken care of. It was the place to be, both as a worker and a client.

“I’m here to see…”

“I know who you’re here to see,” Madame Luna interrupted, “You always see her,” she bat her eyelashes at the leather-clad and helmeted biker, “Are you sure I can’t keep you company today, Mando?”

“I’m sure,” his tone was firm yet kind.

Before either could say anything, your hushed voice came from behind the mistress of the brothel, “Mando…” Although his chapter was well known for never removing their helmets, you recognized his silhouette anywhere.

He turned his helmet towards you and you saw his shoulders visibly relax, “Amarilis.”

No real names.

Mando looked you up and down and his fist involuntarily clenched at the sight of you. You were draped in a black silk robe and you leaned against the frame of the doorway. Like all the others who worked at the brothel, you were styled to perfection to attract those who patronized there, but there was something different about you. Something about your energy that no one else possessed drew Mando in.

“Mando,” you repeated in a more sure tone as you reached your hand out to him, “Follow me.”

Madame Luna smirked as she watched the two of you pass by, “Enjoy yourself, Mando.”

The brothel itself was dimly lit, but clean. It was frequented by many different motorcycle clubs in the area, but it was also a designated neutral space. Even if rivals were seen in the halls, it was a no-violence building. Mando himself was the one who put the deal together so that no one who worked there, no one who wasn’t involved, would ever be caught in any crossfire.

It kept you safe.

Your hand felt warm in the Mandalorian’s gloved one as you took him into your room. It was simple, yet the space’s purpose was as plain as day. The bed sat on the far end of the small space and it was adorned with silk sheets that matched your robe. A small dresser sat on the other end, and he knew what the drawers held. Light in the room was minimal, yet it was just enough to highlight your silhouette. With the door closed and locked, you let go of his hand and looked him up and down as you fiddled with the sash of your robe.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been by, Din,” your voice was soft as your robe opened to reveal nothing but tiny lace black panties underneath, “Everything ok?”

Din’s breath hitched in his throat as he took off his gloves, the only piece of clothing that he ever removed, “Fine,” he replied as he reached out and caressed your body gently, “Guild’s been busy lately,” his gruff voice echoed from under his helmet as he felt his pants tighten. No matter how many times he saw you, it was like the first time, and his heart pounded in his chest every time.

“I was worried,” you looked into the darkness that was the visor of his helmet and imagined his eyes looking back at you. You opened your mouth to say something more, but you left it unspoken… I missed you.

Din breathed your real name as he pulled you flush against him, “Are you alright?”

Your smile lit up the room, “I am now,” your voice was raw yet hushed as you backed up both your bodies towards the bed, “But you’re here on business… So let’s get to it,” your tone turned more sultry as you bumped into the bedframe.

A single soft chuckle escaped his lips as his hands ran up and down your slides, memorizing every dip and curve of your body. Your skin warmed as you felt his eyes devour your figure, even if you couldn’t see them. Both of you let out harmonizing groans as Din hooked his fingers on the elastic of your panties and coaxed them over your hips and down your legs, dropping down to his knees as he did so.

Din’s eyes landed on your pussy, already wet for him, and he let out a low growl. His eyes ran down the length of your legs as you stepped out of the small piece of fabric. But, as you were about to use your foot to fling them aside, he grabbed your ankle, caressing you as he reached down and picked the panties up off the floor. Without looking, Din tossed them over his shoulder, and you let out a laugh as they landed right on the door handle.

“You know how I like you,” Din purred as he stood and guided your body onto the bed.

You let out another soft chortle before you rolled over onto your stomach, comfortable on the plush bed and silk sheets. You let out a whimper as you felt his calloused hands roam over your back. Din’s touch was always surprisingly tender for how strong and tough a man he was on the outside. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as he cupped your ass and gave it a firm squeeze, and you heard him groan as he kneaded the soft flesh.

A contented sigh escaped your lips as you buried your face in the sheets and Din positioned himself behind you. You heard the faint sound of his belt clicking and you felt the mattress dip by your legs. Shifting yourself so that your knees propped your ass up a bit, you heard Din let out a low growl as you presented your dripping pussy for him.

“Good girl,” the words slipped out before he would stop himself, but it only turned both of you on more.

“Din…”

He ran his fingers across your folds, savoring the wetness he felt there before he pushed two fingers inside you with little resistance. You moaned into the sheets as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, getting you ready for his cock. Din was always so soft with you, as if he was worried he would break you if he went too hard. You almost would have wanted him to be a little rougher, but you also craved the way he handled you so tenderly.

Din groaned as he pulled his now soaking wet fingers out of you, and if it weren’t for his helmet, he would have licked them clean. But, his aching cock demanded his attention first, and instead he used his slick-coated fingers to pump himself a few times before he lined himself up with your pussy.

Slowly, Din pushed his cock into you, making both of you gasp at the same time. You clutched into the sheets as you felt his thick cock stretch you out inch by delicious inch. And Din could not look away as your pussy lips wrapped around him as he felt your warmth engulf him more and more. It was a connection unlike anything else either of you had felt, yet neither of you spoke the feelings out loud. To both of you, this was just business, At least that was the lie you both told yourselves.

“Fuck,” Din growled as he bottomed out inside of you and leaned forward so that his leather-clad body covered your bare one.

He held onto your hips as he positioned himself to thrust in and out of you. But, Din frowned from under the helmet when you hissed in pain.

“You ok?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” you replied instantly, “Please, keep going.”

Din released his grip so that only his body weight kept you pinned underneath him as he slowly rocked back a bit. Gently, carefully, tenderly, he thrust forward, feeling your tight muscles around him once more. When you only moaned in pleasure, Din kept his slow yet precise pace.

With your face buried in the sheets, Din used the leverage of your back against his helmet to tilt it up just enough so that his lips were exposed, allowing him to place a series of open mouthed kisses on your back. You moaned loudly as you felt the tickle of his little hairs, his soft lips, and the sharp angle of his nose against your bare skin, and it almost made you cum then and there.

“You…” you moaned, “You can go harder… If you want… Din…” you breathed heavily as he thrust into you over and over again.

Din’s cock twitched as you begged for him. And though he never wanted to hurt you, he also couldn’t deny your request. He groaned your name as he wrapped his arms around you, propping himself up on his knees so he would pound into you harder. As he adjusted your bodies, his helmet slid back down, covering his face entirely once more.

You cried out in pleasure as you suddenly found yourself in Din’s lap, his cock buried even deeper inside you at his new angle, as his arms held you firmly against his chest. With the new angle, your moans echoed freely in the room as he thrust into you harder and faster. And all you could do was hold on to him whenever you could grasp.

And you loved it.

Skin slapped against skin as groaned from both of you filled the room. Din kept his grip on you tight, yet not painful. And he was careful, even lost in his bliss, not to grab onto your hip where it caused you pain. As he thrust into you at his new angle, Din again used your shoulder to push his helmet up enough to free his lips so he could nibble on your skin. It was the closest he would get to kissing you.

“Fuck… Din… I’m…”

He moved his hand and rubbed at your clit, and he growled when he felt your inner muscles clench around his cock, “Cum for me, mesh’la…”

The room spun and you saw stars as your climax hit hard. You felt so wonderfully helpless in his arms as he pounded into you over and over again, hitting your sweet spot with precision. You moaned his name as a string of curses flowed from your lips as you rode out your orgasm on his cock.

Din loved to make you cum. Feeling you fall apart in his arms, knowing how vulnerable you were in that moment, and seeing how beautiful you looked, turned him on like nothing else. And as he held you tightly in your high, Din’s own climax soon followed and he bit down on your shoulder to stifle his own groans as he spilled himself deep inside you.

Once both of you were spent, Din rolled your bodies forward and you both collapsed onto the bed. His helmet dropped back down as your body bounced on the mattress while his own stayed over on shaky arms. Heavy breaths filled the room as neither of you moved for several long moments. You lied on your stomach, your eyes closed in contentment as you caught your breath and tried to calm your pounding heartbeat.

It was Din who broke the silence as he cupped the side of your face, “You ok?” he asked in a raspy voice.

You grinned before you opened your eyes, “Never better,” you replied as you finally opened your eyes and were met with his familiar figure hovering over you. Having never seen his face, you imagined what he looked like under the helmet. You imagined soft eyes and a kind smile. And something in you said that his eyes were brown. You had caught a slight glimpse of his hair a few times when he obviously needed it cut, and your heart fluttered at the thought of being able to run your fingers through those soft brown waves that stuck out from under his helmet.

Unaware of your internal conflict, Din extended a hand to help you up, and both of you almost gasped as a jolt pulsed through your connected hands. He cleared his throat though, and bent down and picked up your robe before he stood and strode over to the door where your discarded panties lay. You slipped your robe over your shoulders and held it closed as you watched his fingers nimbly slide them off the handle.

You studied the broadness of his back, covered completely by the leather jacket of his motorcycle club. On the back was a large skull, the Mythosaur, with the words “Mandalorian Motorcycle Club” around it. On his shoulder, Din had a patch with a mudhorn- his personal emblem. From being with Mandos from other chapters who did remove their helmets and jackets, you guessed he had both tattooed on his body. You were sure he had other tattoos as well, but the only one you ever saw was the little bullseye on his hand.

As Din turned back to you, instead of handing your panties back like you expected, he let out a mischievous exhale and balled them up before stuffing them in his leather jacket pocket. You practically saw the smirk that laid hidden behind the visor from the way his breath hitched.

You smirked, “I usually charge extra for that you know,” your tone was playful. Another Mandalorian, who always dressed in blue and silver and had a very handsome face, a sexy accent, and flirty demeanor, was actually one of your best customers in that regard.

“I know,” Din’s voice matched yours in friskiness. And you could tell he smiled back at you with a little gleam in his eye. Without another word, he came back and settled on the bed next to you, and you were sure your heart would burst from your chest as you listened to the sound of his breathing from under his helmet.

“I always look forward to your visits, Din,” you broke the silence with a light tone.

He let out a single amused huff, I do too…

Silence once again came over the two of you as you sat side by side on the bed. Your eyes looked around the room as you suddenly felt nervous at his side. The roughness of his leather jacket rubbed against your skin, yet it was a feeling you craved. Ever since the first time he came to you, there was something about Din that made him different from anyone else. You even trusted him enough with your real name, and he did the same.

That had to mean something, right?

“So…” you cleared your throat, “How’s Grogu?”

That made Din let out an amused chuckle, “That kid is gonna eat me out of house and home,” he laughed softly, “But he’s good. The covert is watching him right now.”

You sat in a comfortable silence before you burst into laughter.

“What is it?” Din asked, secretly savoring the sound of your laugh.

“Nothing,” you covered your face, “It’s just…” you tried to calm yourself before you continued, “I was just thinking about the first time you came here,” you snorted, “In all my years of working here, I’d never seen a man come by with his kid before.”

Din let out an amused huff, “Ok, yeah laugh it up.” But, he also couldn’t help but remember that day too. He was on the hunt for a bounty, and Grogu stayed with him in a little sidecar that Din had made for him. He had come by looking for information, and you were the one who had what he needed. Din was taken with you from the moment he laid eye on you, and he made a silent promise to return without the kid to see you more. And it was a promise he kept over and over again.

“No, no,” you waved your hands, “I didn’t mean anything by it,” you rested your hand on his knee, “I just mean you’re different… In a good way.”

“Thanks,” he huffed as his heart pounded in his chest from the way you held onto his leg.

After a few moments of calm silence, you spoke up again, “I have to say, Din,” you chuckled, “Your MC sounds more like a family than any other group that’s ever come around here.”

Din turned to you but said nothing.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” you raised your hands in defense, “It’s just funny how a group of bikers who have a reputation for never showing their faces and being the toughest out there are actually the easiest to get along with.”

Many members of Din’s covert came by this brothel, and he was sure that others he knew had also been with you. He wasn’t jealous, though, even if he wanted to be. He had to claim to you, and you were both free to do what you wanted and needed when the other wasn’t around. This was your job after all, just like he had his line of work. Din was only concerned for your safety, that was all. And at least he knew the other’s in his covert would treat you well.

“That really big guy had been here a few times actually,” you continued, “He wears blue…”

Din nodded, knowing you meant Paz.

“Want to know a secret?” you leaned in with a grin on your face, “He puts on a big macho guy act… But he’s even gentler than you,” you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, which Din joined in, “Please don’t tell anyone though. He would kill me!”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Din promised. Although it amused him to be privy to that information. As the laughter died down, though, Din turned more serious, “There is something I do need,” he said plainly.

“There always is,” you sighed as you turned to face him, “Who is the unlucky bastard this time?”

It was what brought him to you in the first place. Being the most sought after brothel in Nevarro, many came by here looking for the same thing Din did. But, it also proved advantageous for his job as a bounty hunter, and the two of you struck a deal that you would help him find his targets in exchange for a cut.

Din pulled out a photo and handed it to you, and his face morphed into a deep scowl under the helmet when he saw the way your face dropped and a gasp escaped your lips.

“You know him?” he asked in a low tone, “Did he hurt you?” every muscle in his body tensed.

You swallowed hard and nodded, “His group asked for a girl for a party two days ago and it paid well so I volunteered,” your hands trembled as you clenched the photo, “They weren’t too bad, just a little rougher than I expected.”

They just unknowingly signed their death certificates. “Where can I find them?” he growled.

A gasp escaped your lips at his sudden change in tone, and you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You turned to Din and saw the way his fists clenched and his posture stiffened. You had become good at reading his body language over the time he had been coming to you, and you could tell he was pissed. And yet, it made your heart beat even faster.

Before you answered him, you grabbed his shoulders and straddled his waist, facing him as he remained seated on the bed, “How about another round first,” you purred as you rocked your hips against his and let your robe fall open, “On the house…”

Din groaned as he immediately rested his hands on your hips, careful not to hurt you but still hold you securely, “Yeah?” he asked with an obvious smirk in his tone.

“Yeah,” you whispered as you leaned in closer, your pulse running wild as he rested his helmeted forehead against yours.

It was dark by the time Din reached his destination: a rival MC’s clubhouse. He didn’t tell you the whole story; you didn’t need to know. But, his target, and the others in the group, were part of a new club that had been terrorizing the borders of Nevarro. They were a threat to the Mandalorians, and to everyone who lived closeby, so they had to be taken care of. Quickly and quietly. And being the best at what he did, Din volunteered to be the one to take the job. But, since he found out that they had hurt you too, it suddenly became more personal for him.

By the looks of the clubhouse, most of the group was there, and they all passed out after another night of heavy partying. Din rode his bike close enough that he would walk towards the dimmed house without being heard or spotted. His breaths came out in short, heavy bursts as he fastened a silencer on his gun and readied himself.

Without a sound, Din made his way through the back doors, taking out the two prospects that slept on the porch on the way. The floors creaked softly as he stepped inside, but he quickly shot three more men who were passed out drunk nearby. He crossed the doorway into another room where he fired on more unsuspecting, sleeping bikers.

But, as he got into the main room, one of them stirred and shouted as he recognized the figure in the shadows as an intruder. The rest of the men who snored on the floors and couches quickly snapped alert and reached for their guns.

“Shit,” Din cursed under his breath as he ducked for cover.

He easily took out two of the five men who fired at him before he ran towards another. Din evaded fire from the drunken men, shooting one of them dead on his way towards his target. With an angry growl, he tackled the man in the photo he showed you to the ground, punching him and nearly knocking him out as they collided with the floor.

“How…” the man wheezed, “How did you find us?”

“A friend,” Din answered in a voice that even he barely recognized, “Someone you hurt… And you will pay for…”

“Fuck,” he coughed as the realization became plain on his face. He didn’t have time to worry about it too long, though, as Din punched him several more times until the red on his face matched the rage that pulsed though Din’s veins.

With a heavy sigh, Din finally leaned back and surveyed the room. Bodies laid scattered all over the place, and the smell already started to invade his senses. But, before he could relax his tense shoulders and call the job done, a gunshot rang through the air, and Din quickly launched himself behind one of the couches for cover.

“You’ll pay for this, Mando!” a voice screamed over another gunshot, “I know there’s only one person who could have told you where to find us,” he sneered darkly as he holstered his gun and ran towards his bike, “I’ll have to pay her a visit…”

“No…” Din breathed as he bolted towards the man who already mounted his bike. Din pulled out his gun and fired several times as he started to ride away, but he missed every time. “Shit,” he spat as his heart pounded in his chest. He ran in the opposite direction toward his own bike parked in the shadows and he prayed to the Maker that he would reach you in time.

The sun was just starting to set the next day as you bid farewells to the others inside the brothel and stepped out back. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, savoring the fresh air as the sun warmed your skin. Turning to lock the door behind you, you faintly heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance, but you didn’t think anything of it. Bikers came by almost daily, and you were confident that Din wouldn’t be back so soon.

Suddenly, a gloved hand clasped over your face, covering your mouth while another strong hand grabbed your arm and yanked you against a strong body. You tried to scream, but your cries were muffled by the hand over your mouth, and your struggles were useless since the stranger who grabbed you was bigger and stronger than you.

“You think you can tell your Mando fuckbuddy where to find us and get away with it? Huh?” a familiar voice sneered in your ear, “Well I’m going to make you pay for that, bitch!”

You gasped as you knew that voice: the vice president from the group that Din was after. The same one that you entertained at a party just a few days prior. Realizing just how dire your situation was, you failed your body and tried to fight back. But, he only laughed darkly at your attempts to free yourself.

But, just as quickly as his hands were on you, they were suddenly ripped away and you fell forward towards the door. Turning around, you saw Din’s figure blocking you from your attacker. He acted so fast, pulling out his gun and shooting the man twice in the head without a second thought. You gasped as you saw the blood pool underneath the other biker’s now lifeless body and your eyes went wide. It wasn’t until you heard your name in Din’s comforting voice that you pulled your eyes away.

“Hey,” he cupped your face and guided you to look into his helmet, “Don’t look,” he breathed your name again as he looked you over, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You looked at Din wide-eyed for several moments before you swallowed hard and shook your head, “No,” you whispered, “I’m… I’m ok… But Din…”

“Listen to me,” the urgency was clear in his voice, “Go back inside and stay there until I come back,” Din tightened his grip on you, “I have to get rid of the body. I’ll be back in one hour. Do not leave until I come for you. Ok?”

You nodded as you trembled in his grip, “Ok.”

Both of you knew why he had to act fast. The truce that Din himself helped to create to make the brothel a safe and neutral zone had just been violated. If anyone were to find out, it could be all out war between the MCs. But, none of that mattered to Din. He would break a thousand truces if it meant keeping you safe.

So many thoughts ran through your head as you sat inside waiting for Din to return. But, at the same time, the hour went by in an instant and before you knew it, he knocked at your door once more.

“You alright?” he asked again as he took your hand.

“Yeah…” your voice sounded vacant, as if you weren’t fully there.

“Come with me,” Din helped you up and led you to his bike, “I’m getting you out of here until we know it’s safe again. Here,” he handed you his spare helmet, “I’ll keep you safe.”

Your gaze dropped down to the helmet in his hand and for a moment you felt like you weren’t in your body. But, Din’s words kept you grounded and brought you back, “I know you will,” you replied as you slid it on and got on the back of his bike, wrapping your arms around his strong torso.

“Hold on,” he said over his shoulder before he took off.

The wind in your face wasn’t bitter, but calming. With each gust of air, you smelled the scent of his leather jacket and the warmth of his body remained a comfort for you as he drove you far away from the brothel. If it were any other circumstance, the bike ride would have been exhilarating, but the mix of emotions almost drowned out the excitement of finally getting to ride the bike with him. You buried your face in his board shoulder as he revved the bike to go faster down the long, winding road.

“We’re here,” Din shouted over the roar of his bike.

You looked up and saw a small house in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t much to it, but you noticed a small pond in the front and a lot of trees surrounding it. It looked tucked away and hard to find, but it also felt warm and welcoming at the same time.

“Where are we?” you asked as Din helped you slip the helmet off.

“A safe house,” he said plainly as he led you inside.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you took in the surroundings. The house wasn’t anything special, just a small kitchen and living space, with doors for a bathroom and 2 small bedrooms. But it felt comforting… and familiar. Not as if you’d been there before, but you knew who it belonged to…

“This is your house isn’t it?” you asked in a breathless tone.

Din turned to you and stared at you for a long moment, “Yeah,” his voice was just as soft, “Grogu likes to play in the pond outside… He’s good at catching frogs,” he tried to lighten the mood a bit. When you looked at him and smiled softly, it made his heart skip a beat.

“It feels like you,” you replied as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Are you cold?” Din sounded concerned as he pulled you close and guided you to the couch on the far end of the room.

“No… I’m not sure why I did that.” You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you did the first time you were alone with Din. Before you knew his name, and he knew yours. Something about being in his home made things feel different. You felt safe, that wasn’t the issue. What you weren’t sure about was what this meant for the two of you now. The way he didn’t hesitate to kill a man, to break a truce, to protect you. The way he held you so tenderly and let you into his home. It had to mean something…

“Hey,” Din said your name so sweetly as he cupped your face, “You’re safe here,” the resolve in his voice sent a shiver up your spine as he held you, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You swallowed hard as you looked at him wide eyed.

Din rubbed his thumb across your cheek as his own heart pounded in his chest, “Do you trust me?”

You looked into the darkness of his helmet and swore you saw his eyes looking back at you, “Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a bandana, something his people always kept in case their helmets came off, and gently rolled it before he brought it up to your eyes and securely fastened it.

“That ok?” his low voice felt louder in your ears as your sight was completely blocked.

“Yeah,” your voice trembled as you sat in the darkness and listened for his next movement.

Din slid his helmet off and set it down with a soft thud. He blinked his eyes to adjust to the soft light that the low sun illuminated the room with as you let out a deep breath. You looked so beautiful in the setting sun, and Din couldn’t help but reach out for you once more, tracing your face with his hands.

You gasped when you felt his breath on your face for the very first time. “Din…” you breathed as you reached out and clung to his leather jacket.

With a low murmur of your name, Din closed the gap between your faces with a deep and passionate kiss. You immediately parted your lips to allow him in, and the taste of his tongue on your made all the emotions you felt bubble to the surface and explode. He groaned into you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible while he explored your mouth. Din swallowed the whimper you let out as he kissed you even harder, allowing the kiss to voice all his unspoken feelings.

But, neither of you could stay locked together forever, and eventually you needed to break away for air. With a gasp, your chest rose and fell with deep breaths as you heard Din do the same. Without another word, he grabbed the back of your head and yanked you against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. The leather of his jacket engulfed your senses and you rested against Din’s shoulder and settled into his arms.

“Listen… I…” Din started but stopped with a sigh as he struggled to find his words.

“Din?” you tried to push yourself up, but he kept you pinned against his broad, strong body.

“You can’t go until I tell you,” his voice wavered for the first time since you’d known him.

“What is it?” you asked in a whisper as you clung to his jacket.

“I was afraid,” he admitted with a sigh, “I… I didn’t know if I would get to you in time…” It was the first time in a long time something like this happened. The last time Din was this scared, Grogu had been taken to be used against him, and the rage he felt carried him until he got his kid back. It was a similar feeling to today, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to feel again.

Before you could say anything though, Din continued, “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he brought his thoughts back to the present, “You and Grogu… You’re my world… You’re my everything,” he sighed, “I don’t know what I would do without either of you,” he paused as he felt you tighten your grip on him, “What I’m trying to say is…” Din let out a deep breath, “I love you.”

You choked back a sob as tears filled your eyes and dampened the bandana around your eyes, “Din…” you could’t believe the words you were hearing, but you also didn’t want to pinch yourself if you were dreaming, “I love you too,” you whispered.

Din responded by holding you even tighter, as if he couldn’t get you close enough. Having you here in his home, in his arms, was more than he could ask for. The two of you stayed like that until the sun completely set, leaving the world to be illuminated by the moon instead. And you looked even more beautiful in the light of the moon.

After some time, Din murmured in your ear, “Why don’t we go get the kid and bring him back home?”

“Home…” you echoed with a grin, “I like the sound of that.”

Din smiled against your face, and you felt the muscles in his cheek against yours, “I do too.”

Carefully, he slid his helmet back on and untied the bandana from your eyes, wiping away a stray tear as he did so. You blinked your eyes open and gave him the warmest smile as his hand cupped your jaw once more in his usual affectionate gesture.

“Want a ride?” he asked with a jovial tone in his voice.

You chuckled, “Yeah.”

Taking his hand, you went back to his bike and this time you both took your time setting onto it. You weren’t in a rush this time, and you could really appreciate the feeling of the motor beneath you and the strong, capable driver in front of you. Wrapping your arms around his waist again, you rested yourself on his shoulder, making yourself comfortable. Din touched the tip of his helmet against yours once before he revved the bike and took off. Together, the two of you flew down the road, towards your future.

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twig-tea · 9 months

Text

Only Friends Ep7 Random Things I Haven't Already Spewed in the Tags Somewhere

God every line of dialogue this episode makes me want to write an essay.

This is the episode that's going to kill all of the mastermind theories and I'm so grateful. Everyone is just messy and young, not a genius or a villain, thank goodness that's now clear. Though I'm a little sad Boston didn't torture Nick by having more sex with the bug still present before confronting him about it (even though I agree this would have been worse writing).

Kudos to Nick for not outing Sand as the thief even though he was pressured and knew he was losing Boston. I respect it.

I was waiting this whole episode for Mew to confront Boston about him using the footage he took of Mew and Ray kissing to manipulate Top, but he never let on to Boston that he knew about that detail from Top. I was especially thinking about this during the scene where Mew threatens Boston with the Boston/Gap sex tape. I feel like some of those complicated expressions on Neo's face are about Boston thinking about that detail and whether Mew knew. It also says something to me about how much Mew is thinking about Top in this revenge moment (read: not at all). I wonder if it will come up later.

I also wanted to add that this was a brilliant way for Mew to make Boston feel regret (because it was clear he felt no remorse on his own). Mew got to feel morally superior AND instill real fear of consequences in Boston, it really was the perfect revenge.

I'm so interested in what Nick's thinking was re: giving the info about Boston's weakness to Mew. Did he want Boston more isolated from his friends? Was he actually compelled by Mew's argument even though we know he already said he didn't actually want to hurt Boston? [Ok I did already ramble in tags about this one but frfr I wanna knowwww]

Speaking of, it's interesting that Boston felt safe enough to tell Nick those details and not his best friends. Admittedly Nick was a bit right-place-right-time but Boston gave him an explanation, and now we know Mew hadn't heard about this previously.

I'm with @shortpplfedup and @lurkingshan on the Top cares more about Top than he cares about Mew train. I do think Top has some feelings, and they're associated with Mew, and I think they're mostly tied to Top's sense of self and how he wants to change and has told himself Mew is a critical part of making that change work (and making it worthwhile). His own sense of self got in the way of that change initially (which is why he did something Mew would not like at the first sign of maybe being lied to), and this loss seems to have helped him overcome that part of his ego, but we'll see.

Was thinking about the ephemerality squad as we watched Mew burn the physical representation of his time with Top, but only part of it.

Mew is careful and calculating, but he's not perfect and now he's doubting himself. After having scripted his first romance and having had it crash and burn despite his best efforts, second-guessing himself about Ray and being willing to give it a try even though he is sure it's a bad idea is.... painfully real. I didn't think RayMew would happen because Mew seemed so sure, but of course Mew would be doubting himself and his previous convictions now.

Mew really turned to Ray and said "I know we're not a good fit but maybe this is what I'm supposed to do" and Ray went for it because of course he did. Feels like that part of the script is explicitly calling out romantic tropes vs real life and how applying the logic of a romance narrative to reality just leads to heartbreak. I hope this keeps up, because YES. [Also @slayerkitty; is this what Jojo is doing re: dropping the narrative frameworks? Eps 1-5 people were telling themselves stories about how this was going to go and eps 6-7 have so far been realistic consequences. I'm now wondering if there's something there about applying dramatic tropes to the real world and how it doesn't work, actually?)]

Also just have to say, Drake's horny confident impersonal energy was perfect.

I have a whole other post about Cheum I've been drafting since last week and keep getting distracted from, but just to put this out there now: Mew was drowning Boston in that pool and girl you just stood to the side and watched (so did Ray, but he had a fractured arm so I'm giving him a pass).

No Yo at all in this episode; possibly another point in my corner about her being the representation of permanence (at least for this group), since everything was either under threat or had already imploded this episode.

Lastly, I keep thinking about what Ray's dad offered Sand, whether Sand took it, and what it would mean either way. It's absolutely bullshit, actually, that Sand not get paid for spending time with Ray considering how much money he is literally losing by spending time with Ray (this episode mentioned it explicitly: by staying to chill in the tub, he was missing out on plum wine $$). At the same time, Sand losing his other jobs to rely on money from Ray or his father is a recipe for disaster, because Ray is unreliable as a consistent source of income (please see his love of Mew). I understand not wanting to be misunderstood or influenced by money and so leaving it out of the situation, but it's in the situation anyway because Sand has debts and a lot of jobs and not a lot of time. I hate how much money has morality tied to it as much as I hate how sex has morality tied to it. It's not romantic to ruin your life for someone who won't even notice that's what you're doing (because Ray could never understand how Sand not working as hard for a week could absolutely mean Sand can't eat or pay rent--especially if Nick moved out--or pay school fees or his debts). Leaving money out of the calculation of a relationship is a privilege of the middle+ class. [@neuroticbookworm we're really going to have to have that noodling session because now you've got me fired up about this lol].

[this really only barebones touches on ephemerality but since I was thinking about y'all: @ranchthoughts @slayerkitty @wen-kexing-apologist @neuroticbookworm @waitmyturtles @lurkingshan @distant-screaming @chickenstrangers @clara-maybe-ontheroad ]

#only friends the series #only friends meta #only friends #ofts meta #ofts #ephemerality squad #also how did this get long?#ugh #long post

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ilynpilled · 9 months

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Have you seen that post on how Cersei pushing Jaime into forcing sex on her is an abuse technique on her end?

no, but i checked his tag now lol. while i know that george explicitly expressed that the sept scene was intended as consensual by him, i still believe that jaime’s pattern of pushing to have sex with cersei, and how, speaks of an unhealthy relationship with consent in this relationship on his part, a lack of respect for boundaries on his part, as well as objectification on his part that cannot be removed from the context of this society’s gender dynamics, especially when it concerns cersei’s themes and her character (to contextualize and expand on what i mean, heres a very quick collection of quotes regarding how jaime’s relationship to cersei, sex, swordplay, and even violence blend or function similarly in relation to very heavy dissociative tendencies):

i understand the jc dynamic’s set up:

“She has never come to me, he thought. She has always waited, letting me come to her. She gives, but I must ask.”

“She wanted to draw his face to hers for a kiss. Later, she told herself, later he will come to me, for comfort. “We are his heirs, Jaime,” she whispered. “It will be up to us to finish his work. You must take Father’s place as Hand. You see that now, surely. Tommen will need you . . .”

i also understand how george seems to establish communication and patterns within this dynamic that reinforce his expressed intention, which is also apparent in a scene that a third party witnesses and how that mirrors the sept, and i obviously also do not think these two would do all of this healthily and establish things akin to safe words (though i take issue with a lot of things here still when it comes to grrm and how consent is framed):

and i understand george framing cersei utilising sex, or even love and affection, as a means to have power, and that being a big factor in this relationship’s dynamic and how she takes control (see instances when cersei does initiate— jaime’s narration is not entirely correct, we know of the inn, which is unique but important, so it is interesting that he chooses not to connect this until feast, that would mean confronting something he doesn’t want to— and what motives she has: “She smiled for him, so sweetly. “Do you remember the first time I came to you like this? It was some dismal inn off Weasel Alley, and I put on servant’s garb to get past Father’s guards.” “I remember. It was Eel Alley.” She wants something of me. “Why are you here, at this hour? What would you have of me?” His last word echoed up and down the sept, mememememememememememe, fading to a whisper. For a moment he dared to hope that all she wanted was the comfort of his arms.”

but i do not think that changes much about the issues on jaime’s part, or how a lot of fandom frames cersei. we know cersei only enjoys sex with jaime (it is sex that is categorized as different from lancel, osney, taena, and robert — all of these also cannot be conflated for obvious reasons — by her), she says so, but that doesn’t change that she still believes that it is her only source of power and means through which she can reach equal ground within her society. we can understand why cersei thinks and functions this way: we understand how she was reared and how she was viewed as a sexual object and a tool for political transactions with no autonomy since childhood by every adult around her. we see how and why jaime is needed by her to feel “whole”, and how he is her “sword.” it is also not difficult to acknowledge that while the abusive dynamic is not what i would consider equal: jaime does not verbally berate her to the degree she does him, does not physically hit her and throw things at her, does not use her or emotionally abuse her the way that she does him (and no, i personally do not agree with people that say they are equally terrible to each other or they equally benefit from this relationship), jaime still ultimately has power over her due to his gender (the physical is obvious, but on top of that this is a medieval society with extreme levels of gender inequality), and nothing will really erase that because this relationship does not exist in a vacuum. this is not diminished by how this relationship functions, her status as queen and jaime’s status as her kg, and other variables that play into the unequal power dynamic. it will always have to be acknowledged that cersei is a woman + everything that comes with that being the case in a medieval society with complete patriarchal domination. i also think the unhealthy belief system of “we are one. you are me. i am you. we are two halves of a whole” will have effects on the understanding of consent and how both parties function in the relationship. i think this extreme delusion would lead to a plethora of issues when it comes to consent and boundaries. with cersei too, the moment she (including her offering sex) is rejected by her “other half” she emphasizes and says things like “you swore that you would always love me.” and “i was a fool to ever love you” or starts verbally berating him, emasculating him, being ableist etc. this relationship operates on some absurd conditions and ultimatums, it is not healthy, hence things like “the things I do for love” too. in reality, it really is the opposite of “unconditional destined lovers.” both of them have things that they end up prioritizing over the other, and both have an incorrect idea of the other that fits their specific needs and wants. i just despise this whole “cersei groomed and manipulated jaime since they were children” bullshit. a child is not capable of this. teenaged cersei was navigating the strict and dehumanising boxes that her father and society forced her into since she was 7 years old. she looked to her brother for comfort and escape as much, if not in many ways more at this point, as he did. i also think cersei escapes into the relationship to subvert those societal patterns in many ways (i have seen people discuss that jaime views her as an equal and a person more so than others: “If I were a woman I’d be Cersei.”) but this still does not change the flaws that jaime has. he is not only a man in westeros, he was also reared by tywin lannister lmao. he is a misogynist with a skewed understanding and view of a lot of things. no point in denying this.

i also understand “mutual abuse is not real”, and understand the damage ignoring that can do to narratives revolving around victims of abuse, and the issue with framing ‘retaliation’ or ‘bad victims’ as mutual abuse (see discussions regarding robert and cersei for example and some of the putrid narratives that come out of that), but we are talking about fiction and its themes, discussing an author’s known intention and execution of that intention (that we can also criticize), as well as what is written in a text, and i do not think we should be ignoring the nuances when it comes to applying a modern lens to a medieval society with some very different and more severe and strict paradigms when it comes to gender inequality and the oppression of women.

here are george’s actual comments that i do not believe contradict the bulk of my perspective either tbh:

#pls be normal when it comes to this conversation theres a reason i hate talking about it #bc shit like this being approached from but muh meow meow or shipping nonsense is fucking obnoxious #ask #cw abuse #cw rape #i tried to balance george’s intentions and the flaws i personally see in his writing and my personal perspective and whats also clearly #indicated in the text #also #i am afab with a relationship to this topic and if u r gonna respond with deeply odd comments i will ignore u lol #jaime is my fav i am not ‘hating on him’

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here2bbtstrash · 1 year

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✨ announcement: the trash library is OPEN! ✨

hi babes!!! exciting news for you today - we are TRYING A THING!!!

for a little context, this idea came about because i’ve deeply enjoyed getting introduced to some amazing new authors since i’ve started up my fic rec fridays this year! in addition, i get so very excited whenever someone shares something they wrote with me, whether it’s via a tag or a DM. i know firsthand how much vulnerability it takes to share something you've written, so it means the world, genuinely!!! i love getting to read and share y'all's works in this little community 🥺

but! as a person with wicked adhd, i have a hard time keeping up with sent fics when they’re all over the place- buried in my notes, forgotten about in my likes, conversed over in DMs. and then i never read them and feel bad, lol. so i thought we could try a new system!!

all this is to say: i now officially have a tracked tag!! that's right, we are building ourselves a #trashlibrary y’all!! ~party party yeah~ 🥳

join me under the cut for allllll the fun details!! 📚

what is a tracked tag? 📖 it’s just a regular ol' hashtag that you can add to a post (the same way you’d tag #bts fanfic or #jungkook x reader or anything else!) - but this is one i am personally following! that means i'll see everything in the tag and it'll make it much easier for me to keep track of it all, so that i can read all your delicious writing!

so how does this work? 📖 as far as i understand this magical mystical website, you’ll have to stick the #trashlibrary tag on any new post in order for it to show up in the tag. new posts only, unfortunately; editing or reblogging an old post and adding the tag on it won’t work. BUT! if you’ve got a brand new fic to post and you’d like for me to check it out, you can slap that baby at the end of your tags and officially add it to the trash library!!! it will need to be within the first 20 tags in order to actually show up in tumblr search, so pls keep that in mind! 🧐

what should go in the #trashlibrary tag? 📖 i’d like to keep it to written fanfiction specifically about bts, but other than those basic parameters, the world is your oyster! to make things easy, here’s a shortlist of stuff i enjoy in fics - if you write anything featuring ANY of the following, i would LOVE to see it show up in the trash library (but feel free to stick other stuff in there too!):

any member x reader (does my jihope preference need to be explicitly stated at this point 🤣), any combinations of member x member, ANYTHING with queer characters/themes or a diverse reader, POLYAMORY, group sex, HEALTHY kink (well-communicated & safe), unlikeable/flawed/complex characters, role play 🤤, ORAL!!!!!, dom/sub dynamics (preferably soft 🥺), overstim, SEX TOYS, ……cheating 🙈, drug use, sex work, anal play/pegging, experimental sex (trying something for the first time), unlearning shame around the human body and pleasure, forced proximity, hatefucking 😬, darker/more mature themes, semi-public sex, characters that are both horny for and enamored with one another lmao

i do also enjoy myself some tooth-rotting fluff or heartbreaking angst, i’m just less specific about my preferences there 😂 tagged works can be as short as a drabble or as long as you like, and literally ANYONE can use this tag - doesn't matter if it's your first fic or your hundredth, doesn't matter if we're besties or if we've never even so much as talked thru reblogs lmao. i’m up for it all!

will you read and review everything in the tag? 📖 i want to make sure this is explicitly clear from the jump. using this tag is the best way to ensure that i read and possibly review your work, but it is not a guarantee or promise that i will do either. not every fic is for me (WHICH IS FINE AND GOOD ACTUALLY, otherwise the world would be full of nothing but yucky porn 😂) and in addition: i’m just one person, with a whole-ass life, you know?

i will do my absolute best to keep up with this tag, and i'm very excited about it! but i kind of have no idea how much use it will see, and i may very well not be able to get to it all. what i can tell you is that i am much much much more likely to see your stuff if it’s in this tag, vs. lost in some other place that i have already forgotten about because i have 3 brain cells and 0 object permanence lmao.

by using this tag, you are telling me that you have read and understood this disclaimer, and that you can handle your emotions like a grown adult if i miss your fic, or even if it just takes me a while to get to it 💜

okay that's it! 🥺 i hope y'all are pumped - i know i'm excited to see what kind of goodies our library fills up with!!! see you in the stacks 😉

#trashlibrary #mposting #it's a brave new world out here #attempting to make the most of this barely functional website lmaooooo

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rayezaeri · 1 year

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Spoilers for the game Va-11 Hall-A, trigger warning for mention of suicide.

Someone’s probably talked about this before but it was just a thought that popped into my head, within the Va-11 Hall-A universe, Jill stands out the most as she just seems to be so out of place. We play a character who is quite literally doing what she wants, living life, seeing what’s there to offer, she’s just there, there to enjoy what life has to offer.

Now when you bring in everyone else, it just shows how out of place she is. The only notable part of Jill’s backstory we get is her relationship and “end of” with Lenore, and about her life during those years, which is quite unremarkable. She basically enslaved herself to her study’s and let them take over her life before ultimately deciding she didn’t want that. And that’s it, that’s all we get, perfectly average life of a perfectly average person.

Then we have Gil. Someone who fully admits during the good ending of the game, that his identity is falsified and he quite literally can’t leave Glitch city cause it’s the only place where his falsified identity will work. We learn very little about him, he’s a mystery to us. We know he was involved in some riots, seems to have some sort of companionship with Jamie and is most likely a wanted man. There’s a point in the game where Jamie asks us to tell Gil something, and when we do, he hurries off, telling us and Dana that if he’s not back in 3 days assume he’s dead. Clearly he lives a completely different sort of life than that of Jill’s and usually he’d be declared the one that doesn’t really fit in, until we get to the other characters.

Dana. First notable thing about her, she has a robot arm, second notable thing about her, no one knows how she lost her previous arm. Dana seems like a walking legend, maybe myth is a better word there but you get the idea. She’s done a lot from the sounds of things, seems to know some shady people, doesn’t even bat an eye at one of her employees and friends saying they’ll be gone for a few days and that if they don’t come back assume they’re dead. She’s also a great person in general. Glitch city is continually shown to be a really shit place to live, one of the nights you end up staying at the bar with Dana cause it sounds like a gunfight is going on. She keeps people safe from creeps, prevented someone from committing suicide, and is always coming up with reasons to give Jil more money at the end of each of her shifts, one day just simply saying she’s run out of ideas so just have the money. She’s a great person in an otherwise tragic place to live, which is great.

Then there’s Alma, who has enough family drama to make me feel like I am her, and she’s a really good hacker, could probably find out anything about anyone if you needed her to, also she has robot hands. Out of all the non ordinary’s she seems the most ordinary and most like Jil but the fact still stands that while she may not be a notorious hacker, she definitely could be if she wanted to be.

Dorothy. At a glance, she’s also somewhat normal. She’s a Lilim (which in this game basically means android but they avoid using any terms relating to anything somewhat robotic as Lilim essentially view them as slurs). She’s a (mostly) sex worker with a shit ton of illegal modifications which make her job easier. Now, the interesting shit surrounds one of her clients, her “mother” and a ghost girl? Have no idea what Anna is. For a bit now one of her most common clients is this guy named Ingram. It’s not explicitly stated that he’s a client of her’s, but he lost his child around 3 years ago in game, and Dorothy mentions she has a client who just simply asks her to pretend to be his dead daughter so it’s quite likely. So yeah, her current most common client asks her to pretend to be a dead person. Now I’m regards to her “mother”. Every Lilim is assigned a guardian to look after them until they reach mental maturity, Dorothy’s guardian lost her child as well and Dorothy has anxiety over feeling like she’s being used as a sort of replacement. Now the “ghost” girl Anna, appears to be said dead child, from this point this is basically my own theory cause nothing is stated. But, Dorothy admits to Jil at one point that her real first name is Becky, something which now only Jil and Dorothy’s mother know. Anna at one point asks Jil to look after Becky for her, begging the question of how she learned that name. So if Anna is said dead child, then Dorothy is spending her time pretending to be a dead child, while having a mother who has a dead child, said child of which, appears to be some sort of ghost thing that follows Dorothy around (Only Jil can see Anna). So yeah, very much not a normal life.

Stella and Sei. Stella is rich as hell, very very rich, has her hair in a drills hairstyle to avert attention away from her breasts because she’s insecure about how big they are. She celebrates basically every holiday that exists to the max, throwing massive parties which always involve her giving gifts to children like she’s giving out free candy. Sei, an ex white night. Sei is awesome and also an incredibly depressing character. Upon her first meeting with Dorothy she identifies multiple illegal attachments that she has with just a glance. She worked as a white night, which is basically a step up from the normal police, in the game an event happened which we don't know much about, we do know, it involved a bank, a very high body count, and enough negative impact to turn the people against the white nights to the point that they start quite literally hanging them in the streets. Everything regarding the events that happened in the bank are classified. Sei was in the bank during this event, hasn't talked about it, which is fair, trauma's a bitch, but she somehow lost an eye. When she got out she had to abandon the armour and just run for her life to avoid the public that would've killed her. She is now entirely out of a job as her entire life has quite literally turned upside down. Thank god she has a sugar mummy in Stella. Those two are cute and I do ship them. So yeah, these guys have weird and interesting lives.

Time to try and wizz through as many of the rest as I can. Rad Shiba and Nacho are literally talking dogs, Rad Shiba wears a Hawaiian shirt. Jamie is a contract killer, *Kira* Miki is a famous idol. Donovan is the boss of the local news outlet. Taylor is a fucking brain in a jar. There's a private detective, a child who attempts to buy alcohol to piss off her mother. There's a duo who are going to an event in cosplay, and the Lilim of the duo casually describes how Anna looks without batting an eye, even though Jil is supposedly the only person who can see her.

There's more but I feel I've gotten my point across. To put it simply, Jil plays the part of a witness. Basically everyone else in this game has something interesting going on in their lives that we are either aware or not aware of, they have lives which have something unique about them. Jil is just there, she denied an opportunity to go into an educational course so that she could enjoy her life, it did end up causing her and her girlfriend to "break up" there was a massive argument and they never spoke after that but there was no official "i'm breaking up with you" soooooo. Jil just felt that she had wasted a small portion of her life by burying her head in books and trying to get through education, so she decided she wasn't going to throw her life away like that and just simply see what life has to offer, she's just there, existing, a character who sinks into the background so she can do what she wants, and despite the fact that out of all the characters in the game she is the only one who has a seemingly "normal" life, she doesn't stand out. She's the odd one out but she fits in perfectly.

Aight I'm done, just wanted to share my thoughts on this realisation I had, also Jil x Dana is best ship, will die on this hill, bai.

#va 11 hall a

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ablednt · 2 years

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1) Is there any media you think did explicitly plural characters well? 2) Is there any media you think handled CSA well (I think you mentioned Persona 5 once but I can’t find that post). 3) How do you think the “into the mindscape” plot can work well (either headspace or metaphorical, and how do you make it clear if it’s the latter?)

1) in terms of like, explicitly stated in a "this character is a system I'm writing about a system this is a plural system"....no I cannot think of any unless we count indie OCs from unpublished works but I don't really in this case. The closest to being explicitly plural I can think of is I'm actually quite fond of how systemhood is portrayed in Omori (it's technically not explicitly stated but the call the inworld headspace for a reason yk?). I just think that for the most part we aren't really in a place yet where most plural creators are A) aware of their plurality and B) safe to canonize it rather than providing subtext and hints.

3) (2 got too long to put in the middle) I honestly just like basically every iteration of this trope and especially how much plural coding goes into it. Most of the people making it do seem to be plural in that they cannot imagine a mind in which there is only one person or one version of a person, it really speaks to the theory side of plurality, an exploration of what it means for the human brain. The only times I think it's executed badly is when it's deliberately plural and made by singlets because then we get stuff like the abomination that is total drama islands "literally a brain with gross bits all over the place" headspace." I like them when they're metaphorical and don't rely too much on coherence one just because it's fun and the trope doesn't take itself all too seriously generally and also because our headspace tends to have a slightly incoherent, dream-like quality so it feels more accurate that way.

2) Yes but to a point. The bar is absolutely in the floor when it comes to representation of CSA victims and survivors so I always feel like I'm praising media for the bare minimum and I've never truly felt fully seen by any portrayal and my opinion on that hasn't changed but...! I do have a slightly better outlook on some medias than I did the last time I was talking about this. (Mild spoilers for persona 5 and major spoilers for revolutionary girl utena, discussion of CSA and violence)

Persona 5 was I think, perhaps the best in terms of showing the character moving on to having a full life and character arc unconnected to their trauma without shelving it unrealistically. Ann gets closure within the first proper arc of her story and is able to get justice, and when she initially refuses to kill her abuser I was expecting this to be some stupid "I heal by forgiveness" bullshit but her reasoning of "Actually I want him to suffer worse than death instead of giving him an out lol" was iconic. After that she remains traumatized but there's a lot more to her character than just that which is sadly quite rare and I actually surprisingly ADORED seeing her go to therapy in p5 royal and being able to officially just talk about her feelings and how terrible everything was.

HOWEVER persona 5 loses all of what would have been really powerful for two reasons. One is that they sexualize the hell out of Ann for comedic relief (especially by putting her in situations where she must act sexual when she does not actually want to) and kind of just for no reason, which turns out being super disparaging after such powerful build up. But more importantly because one of the romance options for the main character who is her classmate is with one of his teachers (who I have super complex feelings about because most people hate the character for this but I don't I think she had a lot of potential and it's really fucking sus that they made their only sex worker character be available for romancing a whole child who is also her student, I feel like as a character she was done just as dirty by this option as the other characters were) so it's like... what is it only abuse and disgusting if it's a blatantly creepy man? Is it a case of "boys want to be sexually abused so it's fine" or what? What message are we supposed to be taking from this?

On another note the media that grew on me a LOT since I was last discussing this was Revolutionary Girl Utena, which remains incredibly relevant despite having a certain 90s crust on it/aff. Before whilst I was fond of the ideas it was presenting I felt betrayed that we never saw a follow up on Anthy's freedom, she just, quietly leaves without much else in terms of closure and by the time any other installments of the story exist it's either a reboot entirely or another timeline in a timeloop and that's not bad but after so much pain it felt lacking.

But it really grew on me as I started to look at the purpose of this story differently. Initially I felt like it was just an exploration of what experiencing CSA is like without any other underlining message, it was accurate to my experiences, sure, but it made me feel hopeless like there wasn't a point to it other than to sit with that pain.

But what I realized more recently is that RGU is a love-letter for the meaning you can find within trauma. The message of RGU isn't "if you've gone through abuse there's a better tomorrow for you," it doesn't deny that either but it's left very uncertain on that point.

But instead it does something that I haven't really seen from other depictions of CSA victims in that it lets its characters be Messy. Like so fucking messy without demonizing them for it? It says, boldly, and unapologetically, that you deserved to be loved even if you lash out due to abuse, even if you don't fit into the role of an "acceptable" abuse victim.

It says, "here's two abuse victims who love each other so much that when Anthy stabs Utena through the back to kill her, all Utena can think to do is reach for her hand, not even the thought of having been betrayed present." It says "even if you never get closure, even if you were to completely disappear right now, even if nothing good lasts from this, right now matters, and the relationships you have with fellow survivors matter."

I also find the exploration of CSA within the story to be suitably complex and find I actually quite like so many of the girls at Ohtori being victims of Akio (and Touga) because it gives each character a lot more room to be messy in their own way without feeling like it's making a statement on all survivors/victims.

Kozue says, "when you live in an impure world you need to become unpure to get what you want." She embraces her trauma, she glorifies it, and this isn't really portrayed as problematic so much as being like "this is a child and she is incredibly broken and trying her goddamn best to keep it together, but she doesn't know what she wants and she doesn't know what to do other than to go along with everything that makes her feel in control"

Nanami on the other hand tries desperately to regain her sense of grace and dignity all the while reality is crumbling around her and she slowly realizes that the only foundation she has (her abuser) is only making her more unstable. By the end of it she's so goddamn weary she can't even find it in her to lash out at anyone anymore, she wants out and so she starts to withdraw.

Wakaba's trauma is a lot more ambiguous. On the surface, what she's going through is kind of the most normal in the show and she seems well adjusted and healthy... until you realize that she's still being groomed by the overall culture of the school which is something that ALSO basically never gets addressed both in media and irl how like. You can be groomed without ever having an abuser, how we are all victims of pedophilia culture and it causes us to be complicit in others abuse. She falls apart because she's balancing her desire to not get hurt with her desire to have a place within society, she flirts with grown men to fit in, to feel like she's more mature and more confident than she actually is.

And of course in the center we have Anthy and Utena.

Anthy is an exploration of the way that victims are demonized and the roles that they inevitably play to survive. To say that all of her submissiveness and kindness and long-suffering is a front she's putting up and she's actually conceited and toxic and hurtful is a misinterpretation of the entire point of the show. She's an embodiment of everything that this world hates- a child who has realistic emotions and needs that inconvenience others.

Every "evil" act she commits is something she does for Akio because she's never had a choice other than serving his interests. She may be more powerful than him, she may have every physical ability to leave but... she doesn't realize that because she's been made to feel inferior to him for so goddamn long and she's a 14 year old child so of course she's going to feel restricted and like she has no choice but to appeal to her abuser (yes she's immortal but I think anyone who got the takeaway that she's somehow an adult is seriously misinterpreting the entire point of "no one actually ages at this school time simply isn't passing.") She plays into the part of the perfect abuse victim because she wants and needs to feel loved, she needs to feel valuable, and when she doesn't uphold this image when she has problems when she's not okay that's when she's being stabbed with million of swords to receive all of humanity's hatred and that's like. SUCH a strong way to express what it FEELS like to be a survivor in a society where abuse victims are only supported superficially.

And then Utena's is an exploration of what grooming feels like itself. Using the main, viewpoint, character to explore what it's like to be groomed is actually pretty rare I feel like but they executed it perfectly. It's so realistically done with the decent into Akio being this abusive villain so gradual that a lot of viewers who aren't familiar with sexual abuse and grooming will watch it and be like "damn that was weird I didn't get that at all lol" because they didn't really have the time to process what they were watching just like Utena barely had time to process what was happening to her.

He seems like a good guy, he seems kind to Anthy and she seems to trust him. He welcomes Utena into his home, he just wants her to feel loved and safe, right? When she experiences transphobia at school he comes to her aid, he admires her for her gender-nonconformity after all.

But then suddenly she starts to feel afraid of him and she doesn't understand why, she starts getting intrusive thoughts about the two of them together romantically, and she knows that's wrong but she isn't thinking about her age in the equation because why would she? She's mature, she doesn't have parents, she's old enough to fight to the death to protect her best friend so she ought to be old enough for an adult relationship right? That's a non issue to her, because she's too young to realize how young she is, but she still inherently knows it's wrong.

And she tries to voice this, she tries so goddamn hard. She says "aren't you kind of a pervert?" and he responds with (very paraphrased) "I am but you're just as deviant as I am, your being nonbinary is the same as my being a pedophile."

And like. She's 14, she's the only openly queer person she's ever met, he's been supportive before now so like.... he's gotta be right, doesn't he? There's not argument that can be made to this when he's leaning over her to pin her down and she's dissociating too hard to think straight.

Watching her spiral deeper into depression as she faces more and more abuse feels intimate, like, at no point do her actions not make perfect sense from the perspective of a grooming victim and that's something that you really don't get from so many media. And is is empowering to see her pull herself out of this and to see him for what he is, the resulting sword fight, and the way she ignores him completely as she tries one last time to reach Anthy and convince her that she deserves better than this, that all means something even if her ending isn't a happy one.

The series is a comforting one for me when I'm already triggered because it speaks to the tired cynic in me that knows that on a societal level that things aren't getting better or safer, that I'm never going to get rid of these ptsd symptoms because I am inherently retraumatized by how widespread this kind of trauma is. In that respect I'm Anthy in her coffin and Utena is reaching for me, and telling me that my friendships, my relationships with equally traumatized people no matter how hard and messy still matters. And that's a message that I just haven't seen anywhere else that you can find some happiness within an abusive environment and that still means something, even if you can't find anything else.

It's definitely not perfect and it doesn't fix the fact that I have yet to see any media with explicitly explored CSA where the victim is able to have not just a happy ending but a full continuation of their life outside their trauma in which they can heal and find support and a kinder world, I don't have any comfort media that does that for me which sucks a LOT. But Utena does make me feel a little better when I start to feel really hopeless about everything.

#CSA tw #media cw #grooming tw #ask to tag #the rant under the cut is probably kind of incoherent and rambly but I have a headache and it's difficult subject matter so ahfdioghaidfohg

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linelpisffxiv · 1 year

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Hokay, so... If I do the thing (Though I'll probably pop a poll again cuz only 4 real responses, though it still gives a majority pangender sexiest) I'll have guidelines

Can I propoganda?

Yep. But keep it propaganda, not antipaganda

That's not how the word works.

I don't care. We both know what I mean. Tell us why to vote for who you want, not why we shouldn't vote for who you don't want moving on.

But what if it was a counterpick?

Look up why fans like the character and use those.

Can I Counterpick?

Sure. I do it all the time when I'm neutral on one character but don't want the other moving on in polls.

Why aren't the twins/Lalas in the sexy poll?

The twins are 16. I know there's some debate and they could be over 18 by now, but until the powers that be say they are over it, we're not touching it. Yes, it says 16 is Sharlayan Adulthood, but there's still laws in the real world about this. If it helps, I HC the twins as 18/19-ish by the end of the quest "Endwalker." But again, until we're shown a growth spurt and they're explicitly said to be over 18, I'm not touching it.

As for Lalas, my reasoning comes from my FC leads when they did art. We all know they're adults. Many have facial hair, and many talk about sex/are implied to be sexually desirable, but if some friend sees you reblog a poll where one of the images is of Tataru and the header says "Sexiest Final Fantasy XIV character" would your non-XIV mutuals understand "Oh, this is a dwarf race"? Or would they wonder why there's a toddler in a poll like that?

(Kan-e-Senna is removed for the same reasons as Lalafell. Yes, she's in her 20s, but she canonically stopped aging in her teens and uses makeup and shapewear to look more mature than she does naturally. She may be the oldest-looking of her race, but I still feel uncomfortable with putting her in, even if she's more borderline than the others)

It turns out X character is under 18!

If this is after the poll concluded, I did my best to try and find out how old these characters are, and if they're using an adult body, unless I had some reasons to doubt, I let them in.

It turns out X Non-Lalafell character you refused is over 18

Again, if they're using a child body, I chose caution.

So-and-so is brigading against X character

Honestly, I don't care. Even if it's my favs, I don't care. I tried to give my favs rougher first rounds for this reason. Even if they're putting it in the tags on the poll itself, I don't care. I suggested otherwise, but I don't control it. And while I'm also not fond of Brigading, especially in the thread of the poll itself, nothing I can do. We all know this is really a tournament of most popular/has the most popular fans/Is a really lucky guy who keeps ending up being used as a counterpick.

What is a counterpick? You keep using this word

When you're not so much picking the person cuz you like them, but because you hate/disagree with the other option. Like when you said Die Hard is your favorite Christmas movie 10 years ago. You aren't saying it's your favorite cuz you actually like it (you may or may not) or think it's a Christmas Movie. You're picking it cuz it takes place on Christmas and you hate traditional Christmas movies. (These days, the statement isn't exactly as provocative as it was. We all get it. But it's the best generic example I have.)

Or in this case, if... say... the fight is Vauthry against G'raha and you hate G'raha because he's a nasty little fanboy who should have stayed dead in 5.3 or even 5.0 or 2.5 and is a homewrecker, you pick Vauthry. Not cuz he's hot. You just want to make it one vote harder for G'raha to win.

Just remember to put Heimlich and Sqiudward memes in your propaganda post and I'll be laughing with you. Vauthry didn't need any submissions cuz I knew you'd all flock to those.

Alternately, your blorbo is Gaius. He's safely winning his poll against Erichthonios so you're not too worried, but the next round he's up against the winner of Vauthry vs Hien, which is pretty tight (Within oh, about 15%, which is less than you expected Vauthry to trail). You know that if Gaius goes up against Hien, he's probably going to lose handily, so you vote for, and post propaganda for Vauthry with all those Squidward and Heimlich memes, because despite the fact that his Innocence form is hot, you know it'll be easier to win against him than Hien.

Will you be sharing Propaganda?

If I find stuff for both sides early enough, sure. Or if there's funny posts of the two kissing.

Do you want your Blorbos to win?

Fuck no. I want them out as fast as possible and I deliberately messed with the polls some to make the first two rounds tougher for them to advance. I'm sorry to those who I gave tougher polls to as well for those two rounds, but if my faves won, it's the will of the people.

What about your BEC? You want him to win or lose?

Eh, lose if I'm being honest, but I left his bracket alone for the first two rounds. If he wins, it's the will of the people.

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spidey-sophie · 3 years

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Red Light || Tom Holland Smut

Pairing: Mob!Tom x Stripper!Reader (p.s. If mob!Tom isn’t your thing, you can still read this. It is never explicitly confirmed that he is a mob/criminal. Only implied once/speculated. He can be any kind of millionaire!Tom you want to imagine!)

Summary: Every night there are a variety of customers. But this night is different. As you’re doing your usual dance routine, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while, and he is looking back at you, his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance for him and his eyes only.

Word count: 12.2k

Warnings: drinking, smoking, smut, soft!dom!tom, guided female masturbation, edging/one little orgasm denial, oral (female + male receiving), fingering, spanking, ring kink (is there even such a thing?), multiple orgasms, squirting, slight choking, mirror sex, exhibitionism, cum play + swallowing. She also sucks on his fingers a lot, but it's me, so is that even a surprise? Explicit smut - minors dni.

Notes: This is the longest and dirtiest fic I ever wrote! After a loooong break it is finally here! I had so much fun writing this story and I hope you will enjoy reading it. I feel like I talked to so many people about this fic and I want to thank everyone for supporting me! First of all, thanks to everyone who liked and reached out to me after I sent that ask to @duskholland. I had no intention of writing it, but after all the feedback, I had to do it! Biggest thank you ever goes to miss impulsive gemini aka @sinisterspidey for editing this and beta reading it! You're a boss, chlo! Another big one goes to my bday girl @worldoftom who helped me with editing and HYPED me up to finally post this. Also, lovely @hypnotized-so-mesmerized and @nowayhomeparker for jumping in with a few ideas. I hope you'll enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, I am vvvv excited to read your comments!

♡ Ily and happy reading ♡

“Are you nervous?” Your friend and coworker Natalie asks. You’re sitting in front of the large vanity mirror, LED lights showering you with brightness. This is probably your favorite part of the night - putting your makeup on in the right places, transforming into someone else for an evening. But, no matter how much you love doing this, going up on that stage makes your heartbeat rampant. You just smile at her, trying to hide the fact that indeed you are nervous.

“You’re going to be amazing.” She tightens her arms around you, leaving a trace of her glitter on your body. You watch her as she starts removing her wig, humming to the barely audible music from the stage. You’re the newest addition to the current setup, so everyone is being especially nice to you, always asking you if everything’s okay, offering help whenever you need it.

You don’t exactly hate your job.

Sure, it isn’t something that you ever thought you’d do, but here you are, trying to smear the right amount of highlighter over your chest and shoulders. Since backstage was a bit too crowded, you put on your headphones and play the song you’re about to dance to help you relax in the process. After six months, you still get a little nervous before going on that stage. Even though your coworkers often say there’s no reason for it, customers are either too drunk or too thrilled to see you and enjoy your talent. Still, you can’t control your nerves and you need music to stay calm. And sometimes you like to go through the dance routine again before going on stage.

Yes, your dream has always been to be a dancer. You've been showing talent since you were little. Some would say that you first started dancing, and then began walking. However, when you finally started dancing professionally, you never believed that you would do it without clothes. On the pole. In a strip club.

The salary is good. Customers are mostly decent. When, in rare cases, they aren’t, you can always count on the help of the security. You see this job as something temporary, until a better opportunity arises.

The club you work in is extremely popular. The owner made quite a reputation for himself and his club, so people from all parts of London often come to visit the famous “Cherry on Top”. All of the dancers have their own ‘thing’. You’re all shiny, oily, and sexy, and yet every one of you have your own flair. Ruby, who you’re the closest with, is on stage at the moment. She’s best known for her impressive pole skills. You witness her muscular arms holding her entire body on the pole, swinging and swaying. She was the first one who accepted you into the club and offered to give you some tips about pole dancing and flirting with customers.

Once she’s done with her routine, it’s up to you. You watch her collect the money from the floor, thanking the audience and running backstage.

As she passes by you, she whispers, “show them what they came for”, before running off with a wink.

Being the only professionally-trained dancer in the current setup, you made a name for yourself fairly quickly. Everyone already knows that they can expect a great show from you. You don’t only display your body, but also your talent. Or at least that's what you tell yourself. The owner of the club recognized your talent and enthusiasm and made you his main star.

You try to always put on a great show for your audience. Every Thursday night is your night - it’s the night when you do your routine for the first time. And then, you do the same the following Friday and Saturday nights. This time, you picked a rather unconventional outfit for a strip club.

You decide to start dancing wearing a suit. Under your loose-fitted black suit, you’re wearing the tiniest pair of lingerie, with jewels and matching pasties for your breasts. Getting naked in front of an audience was a bit odd at first, but you’re used to it by now. The owner of the club has strict rules and lots of security so you and the girls always feel safe. If someone is causing trouble or tries something that you aren’t comfortable with, all you need to do is to give a quick nod to the security and that guy will be out of the club in the next few seconds.

As you’re finally getting ready to get on the stage, you wink at Tuwaine, the security guy working today. He stands next to the stage, watching carefully over all of the customers, making sure everything is right and stays right throughout the night. You walk slowly up the few stairs until you’re finally on the stage. Just a few seconds ago, Tuwaine set up a chair in the middle of the stage. It’s not unusual for you to use props while dancing, but you’ve been excited for this routine for the entire week. You spot Ruby and Natalie at the bar, giving you thumbs up and cheering for you. They never miss your performances.

The lights are off and once you hear the first beat of the song, you take your place on stage and wait for the lights to come back. You stand in the center of the stage, keeping both hands raised above your head. The chair stands next to you with one of your legs on it, while you stand firmly on the floor with the other.

With the first ray of pink and purple lights you start moving, seductively swaying your hips, but only lightly at first. At the same time, you slowly move your right hand across your left one all the way down to your shoulders.

As soon as the lights are completely on, your movements become more noticeable, stronger and more precise. You drag your right hand over the entire length of the leg that is on the chair. You finally move and strut provocatively behind the chair and caress the back of it with your hands while checking the crowd.

The first piece of clothing you throw away is your hat and you throw it at a table where several young men are, one of them obviously having a bachelor party. You wink at him and turn back to the center of the podium.

You get out of your suit jacket and since your eyes are now finally used to the bright lights you take a moment to look a bit through the crowd. You’re so used to doing this every week, so that you don’t even miss a beat now while exploring the faces of visitors.

Your dancing consists of lots of seductive movements--grinding on the pole, provocative thrusts with your hips, and lots of you touching your body. You want the audience to imagine their hands instead of your own. You love to be in touch with your body, to use your every little move to your advantage. While other dancers usually pick popular hip hop and trap songs, your taste is a bit different. You prefer dancing to softer, slower, more sensual tunes.

There is something about all that attention that you get when you are on stage--being the only thing that the sea of watching eyes is focusing on. Controlling them with your moves. Listening to gasps, moans, and applauses every time you peel off another layer of your clothes. The thought of being their fantasy, the center of their desire, excites you.

The room’s filled with guys, and sometimes girls, too. Every night there are a variety of customers. Businessmen, tech nerds, college boys, bachelorettes, middle-aged men who bring their sons, middle-aged men who want some fun, older guys, younger guys, politicians, celebrities, but also your neighbors. This night isn’t any different.

You recognize some familiar faces, the usual customers who are there almost every night. You nod to Gary, the nice guy who brings you flowers and offers to walk you home every night after you’re done with work. He never tried anything, and he never even paid for a private booth with you. He only brings you flowers and sometimes cards for your birthday or holidays.

Just as you are about to turn around and sit on the chair, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while. He’s sitting at the table behind Gary’s, while pink, purple, and blue lights illuminate him. And he’s looking at you. Once your eyes finally lock, he gives you the cutest smile. He’s wearing a black suit with a light blue shirt underneath, slightly unbuttoned to put his perfect chest on display. You quickly turn around, trying to hide the smile that he most certainly caused. It is not unusual for you to find someone cute in the audience, but this guy is truly something else. From the moment you saw him your heart started drumming and it’s no longer in sync with music. It’s beating faster, doing it’s own thing.

You slowly take off the lower part of the suit, and the cheering of the customers becomes so loud that it emphasizes the music. You sit on the chair and turn towards them and smile as soon as you make eye contact with any of the customers. But still, your smile is most sincere when it meets his honey-colored eyes. You can't describe exactly what attracts you to him so much and why you can't look away.

Is it because of his beautiful face, piercing eyes, or lips that are twisted into the most seductive smile? Is it because of the fact that he sits so casually, and again so masculine, strong, dominant? He is not sitting alone, and there are a couple of other young men at the table with him, two of them that look so much like him and another blonde sitting closest to him. But none of them radiate the same energy as him.

You have to remind yourself, again and again, that you have to dedicate your attention to other customers and take your eyes off of him. At that moment, you are only in a white shirt, and as you reveal one of your shoulders, you hear more and more sighs from the audience. The bottom of your shirt flares enough for all of them to see your shiny pink thong. The dance floor is already flooded with money, but they keep throwing you some more.

You slowly unbutton one shirt at a time and once again look at the mystery hot guy. As you do this, your hips move to the beat of the music and the speed at which you unbutton follows the rhythm. He can't take his eyes off you, as his eyes follow your hands like a magnet. And that's why you decide to tease him. You slowly move your hands from the already unbuttoned shirt and run them along the inside of your thighs. Spreading your legs apart and running your hands painfully slowly over your heat you can see him licking his lips, eyes glued on you. It’s almost like his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights.

You play with the hem of your underwear, teasing the audience, but more so teasing him. He now has a fist in front of his mouth, squeezing it tight, so tight his knuckles are turning white. As much as this teasing is fun, it is that part of the song when you go up on the pole. You get off of the chair and finally take off your shirt.

As you throw away your shirt, you stand next to the pole taking your position and get ready to hop on it. The men howl at the sight of you clasping both of your legs around the pole and grinding upwards using the strength in your upper arms. Once you get high enough, you unclasp your legs from the pole and start slowly swinging back down, holding yourself with both of your hands.

Quickly, you hook your right leg over the pole and hold it tight with your thigh muscle, releasing both of your hands from the pole, and using all of your strength to keep yourself on the pole with just your leg muscles. It took you some time to master the art of pole dancing. You still considered yourself a beginner, but it was fun. It brought more tips.

And now, it’s time for the big move--you’re supposed to turn upside down, hook your right arm over the pole and do a split. It’s a move you kept practicing with Ruby for the past few weeks and now you finally decide to try it. Turning upside down is easy; the harder part is doing a split from this position. In that moment your eyes wander to the mystery cutie and his eyes haven’t left your body, not even for a second. As your legs start spreading apart, his head is slowly moving forward, he’s totally lost in you, watching you in awe with his mouth slightly open.

Almost perfectly synchronized with your legs, his body leans forward. When you finally do the whole split, you notice an almost proud smile on his face. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance only for him and his eyes only.

When you're done with the pole portion of your routine, you slide down, grinding your ass on it. You smirk at all the bills the customers keep throwing at you. You lean your back against a cold, metal pole and start grinding your ass up and down. Almost everyone in the club is cheering for you, but he’s the only one you care about, the only one you’re looking at.

And you’re also the center of his attention. The boys around him are talking but he’s not leaving you out of his sight. He brings one of his hands to his shirt, unbuttoning it a bit more and you notice the rings he has on his fingers. You run your hands up and down your body, while grinding, imagining your hands were his and the pole behind you was his lap.

Your song is almost over, so now it's time for the grand finale. You get up from kneeling next to the pole and strut your way a bit closer to the group of excited men in the front row. You turn around, bend over a bit, and slowly run your hands over your butt cheeks. You move your hands over your hips, waist, all the way to your shoulders. With an innocent expression you turn your head around to face them as you tug your bra strap. And with a faux surprised look on your face you do the same thing with the other strap.

Everyone in the room is howling now, and you finally unclasp your bra and throw it away in the crowd. You can’t help but smile at their reaction. No matter how many nights you do this, that feeling never goes away.

You turn around to face them now, and the first person you look for is the mystery guy. His eyes are now glued to your exposed breasts, only covered by two glitter pasties. He looks up to you and genuinely smiles, with an open mouth, his tongue slightly peeking from the edge of his lips. And then he does the hottest thing you’ve seen in a while--subtly, he tilts his head a bit, and burns through you with his eyes. The right corner of his mouth twitches and moves upwards, forming a devilish smirk. He nods at you, so fast and subtle that if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

You slowly get lower until you are on all fours, face down, ass up, twerking to the sound of beat. You smile to the guys around you, but you can’t help but feel a bit sad because you can no longer see the one you care about the most. Since the song will be over in a couple of seconds, you do another split, this time on the floor, close to your audience. You pick some money from the floor and throw it all over your head.

Slowly, the lights go off and you wait for the stage lights to completely shut down on you and rush backstage, trying not to drop any tips that you collected while dancing. You try to take one last look at the mystery hot guy, but the people around you are standing up, chatting, moving around, or dancing. The little wave of sadness rushes over you and you feel a slight embarrassment in hoping that he’d be waiting for you, cheering for you, or something else.

♡♡♡

After your performance, you quickly change into something more decent and hurry to get out to the bar for a few drinks. Or, to be completely honest, look for the curly haired guy. It’s not like you plan to do anything with him, you just want to look at him a bit more, admire his pretty face and his smile.

Unfortunately, you can’t find him. Your eyes travel from one part of the room to the other, but he is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, superstar!” You can hear Ruby waving at you and inviting you to join her and Natalie at the bar.

“That was so hot! I got turned on, can’t even imagine how these wankers were feeling,” you hear Natalie from behind and, judging by the way she is hanging around your neck, she’s a bit tipsy.

“Thanks, turning you on was my main intention.” You and Ruby smile at her and order your drink while listening to Natalie gushing about Tuwaine, speaking about how sexy and beautiful he is. She always does this, speaking more to herself, every night after she gets a bit drunk. They have some sort of friends with-benefits, complicated relationship, and you know way too many details about it --way more than you want.

You just roll your eyes at Natalie giving him heart eyes and whisper to Ruby, “Uhm, did you, by any case, notice a ver…”

“OMG, here he comes, I can’t talk to that arsehole right now!” Natalie practically screams near your ear and leaves the two of you confused. Once Tuwaine approaches you, her behavior suddenly becomes clear.

“What was that?” he asks, “Nevermind, Y/N, someone asked for a private booth with you. You have ten minutes to get ready. Don’t kill the messenger.”

“What? Fuck, I told the boss I want to stop doing that.” You aren’t very fond of private booths. It’s one thing to be on stage, distanced from everyone, enjoying yourself and flirting with them while dancing. You don’t even mind occasionally strolling through the audience and making small talk with the customers. But being face-to-face with a customer always makes you nervous. The rules are strict – no touching, no kissing, and absolutely, in no circumstances, any kind of sex. And you’re thankful for those rules. Every booth even has a camera installed, something else you like.

“Yeah, he knows, but this is a very important client and he asked specifically for you.” You’re left confused and drain your drink before you go get ready.

“Who is that client anyways?” You ask while coughing a bit since the shot you just drank was a bit too strong.

“Someone from the Holland family.”

“From what?” You ask, having no idea who they are talking about.

“Oh my God, THE Hollands?” Ruby almost spills her drink all over her once hears the name.

“Who are the Hollands?” You are still clueless, but from the look on Ruby’s eyes, you’re the only one in the room who doesn’t know who the Hollands are.

“I can’t believe you don’t know who they are; they own, like, all of London. No one knows how they got so rich--probably some illegal stuff involved. Dad and four sons. I had no idea they’re here. Oh my God, please be safe, they might be dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl, Ru, I can take care of myself. But thanks. If anything goes wrong, I can count on this guy anytime.” You throw your hand over Tuwaine’s shoulders. You really have a genuine friendship, and whenever it’s his shift, you feel more safe.

“Yeah, yeah, but you better hurry up.”

“I am, I am, thanks T.” The last thing you want right now is to go and dance for some stranger, and especially not for some fishy millionaire. You’re tired and you want to spend some time with your friends and get a couple of drinks. As you walk backstage to change your clothing, you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed over the fact that just a few minutes ago you were looking for a cute guy who watched you dancing. What were you even thinking could happen? The owner of the club is always very clear - no sleeping with customers, not even after the show. He doesn’t want any allegations or anyone to think that his girls are up for anything other than dancing.

You put a pink wig on your head and pick a baby pink lace thong and a bra with rhinestones on it and rhinestone fringes falling from the bra cups all the way down to your thighs. You add a little lacy garter on your right thigh, and opt for a pair of five inch heels. After one last look in the mirror, you finally feel pleased with the way you look, and start walking towards the area with the private booths. Just as the name `private` says, the area is separate from the rest of the club. The club has six private booths, and almost all of them are always occupied. You nod to the security guy waiting in the hall, and get inside the booth where you’re supposed to be for the next fifteen minutes.

Every booth looks the same--round room with mirrors instead of walls, bordered with leather red furniture. A mini round white dance floor with a pole is located in the middle of the room, and it’s surrounded by the red couch. The lights are dimmed, and red, black and white colors dominate the room.

At first, you can’t see the face of the guy sitting in the center of the room. You can only trace the silhouette of his spread legs. The first thing you notice is his hands, holding the glass of whiskey. There are rings on his fingers and you’re sure you’ve seen them already. Once you’re close enough and you can clearly see his face, you recognize him right away. It takes you a lot to hide your smile, but you probably didn’t do a good job hiding since the first words he tells you are.

“Were you expecting someone else?” His voice sounds even hotter than you could ever imagine, mixed with soft R&B music that is pulsating lightly in the background.

“No one other than you, baby boy.” This is a line you used a lot before, but for the first time in a while you’re actually thinking it. He chuckles at your remark, still wearing that cocky smirk on his face.

You can’t believe that you’re face to face with him now. And that you’re about to dance for his eyes only. You get up on the dance floor and now you’re standing above him. Just looking down at him turns you on so much. You start swaying your hips to the beat, not breaking eye contact with him. He brings his cigar next to his mouth and your eyes are following his every move. The way his jawline tenses while he inhales the smoke drives you crazy.

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, smoke coming out of his mouth and his voice sounding a bit raspier thanks to it.

“Six months.” Usually, you don’t answer personal questions, but there's something about him that makes you open up to him. It’s not just his looks. It’s the way he is sitting, looking, and talking to you. It makes you a bit nervous, vulnerable, but also excited.

“I used to come here more often, can’t believe I never saw you before.”

“Well, you’re seeing a lot of me now,” you wink and turn around. He can now watch your barely covered ass, but you can still see his face on the mirrors around you. And his eyes follow your every move like he’s hypnotized.

“What are the rules now? I haven’t been here in a while.”

“No touching, no kissing, no fucking. Just watching.” You say, as you slowly sway around the pole.

“You can undress, right?” He asks, his eyes lingering on you.

“Yes. Do you want me to?” You grab one of your bra straps, and pray he’ll say yes.

“Not yet. Can I ask you something while you dance?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be honest?” You start moving up and down the pole, now facing him and your back pressed to the pole.

“Anything for you, baby boy,” you wink at him and try to seem as calm and collected as possible. Everything inside you is burning now, palms sweating and legs shaking. You still cannot believe you’re one-on-one with the most beautiful guy you ever saw. And by the glint behind his honey eyes, he is just as infatuated with you. You can feel yourself getting turned on from dancing and from him.

He sits comfortably on the huge bed. His legs are spread, and between them his hand holds a glass of whiskey. You watch the way he brings it up to his mouth, the way his lips spread and the peek of his light pink, wet tongue. You can't help but imagine how much better his tongue would feel on your ass, instead of this cold metal.

“What’s your name?” he finally asks, once he gulps one big sip of whiskey, not even a little twitch in his eyes after swallowing the bitter beverage.

“Oh straight for the hard questions. My name is Destiny,” you smile and he smiles back. It catches you a little bit off guard how much his face softens once he smiles.

“Okay, let’s try this again. Hi, my name is Tom, what’s your name?”

“Hi Tom, my name is Cherry,” you get on all of your fours now, crawling towards him. You stop once you get to the edge of the dance floor, waiting for his next move. Tom lifts up from his seat and leans closer to you, now only inches apart from your face. All of your senses immediately focus on his perfume. He smells sharp, warm and sexy, like vanilla mixed with cigarettes. Not breaking eye contact with you, he reaches for his back pocket, takes a bill and rolls it.

“How about now?” he asks and brings the rolled bill next to your face. Since you’re still on your fours, the only way you can get your tip is if you take it with your mouth. Slowly, you open your mouth and take the bill from his hands. While you do that, you gaze into his eyes and notice the way they get darker, more lustful as you remove the money from his fingers with your teeth.

In a split second it almost seems like he starts leaning forward, like he wants to kiss you, but you quickly hop on your knees and stand up.

“Harmony,” you say as you pull the bill out of your mouth and hook it under the thong, “or Doll, or Spice, or…”

“Fine, fine, I get it.” He says, now sitting back like he used to. “I’m sorry if I crossed any lines, I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’ve never seen you before.”

“Thank you, Tom. This might be your lucky night.” You try to tease him, but you’re still thinking about how sweet he seemed as he apologised. For a supposed extremely wealthy criminal millionaire, he is way too kind. And that turns you on even more.

You wrap your hands around the pole and start swinging, performing your usual routine. And for a few minutes he just sits there and watches you. For the entire time you’ve been in the booth with him, he always had his full attention on you. Tom watches your every curve, every move, every gesture. You reach to remove your bra, and with a slight nod, he gives you the approval to do so.

Once again you’re naked in front of him, his eyes leave yours and your nipples become the center of their attention. They’re so hard for him that it almost hurts. He can now clearly see how turned on he’s got you, and a smirk lingers on his face.

You tease him a bit more and run your hands over your breasts, fingers gently caressing your nipples and slightly pinching them. Tom shakes his head and whispers something to himself. The music is a bit too loud for you to decipher; the only word you can hear is “fuck”. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what you want him to do to you right now. He takes one big smoke of his cigar and runs his long fingers over his thighs, silver and gold rings shining under the low lights. The pants he wears are so tight that you can see the way every muscle on his leg flexes to the rhythm of your dancing.

Your hands travel down to your thigh and just as you grab the garter, you hear him say, “Leave that on.” And you do as he tells you.

“Do you like working here?” he asks and now you sit on the edge of the dancefloor. You spread your legs a bit, just to tease him. You’re still positioned slightly higher than him, so that his face is now on the same level as your core.

“Yes. Do you like doing whatever you do?” You decide to play his game. No matter how much your friends warned you about him, somehow you feel safe enough to ask him that.

“Actually, no. My turn now, have you ever desired a customer?”

“Yes.” And you spread your legs a bit wider as you tell him that.

“Am I one of those customers?” Tom is once again too close to you, looking up at you with a devilish smile.

“You really want to know that?”

“I’m dying to know that,” and the smirk is now gone, he is playfully smiling at you, lighting the entire room as he does that.

“And why would you like to know that, huh? Does the thought of me getting wetter and wetter and touching myself while thinking about you turn you on?”

“What if I tell you that it does?” He leans so close to you, you can almost feel his breath on your inner thighs.

“In that case, my answer is maybe, but maybe not.” You enjoy playing this game with him way too much. And you are fully aware how dangerous everything is, but you just can’t stop flirting with him. The thought of him being turned on by you, the way he moves his hands over his legs, adjusting his shirt, the way his chain moves up and down as he is breathing, everything exhilarates you. You never behave like this with other customers. There was something about Tom, some magnetic force that keeps pulling you to him, from the moment you first saw him.

You can’t decide if it is his smile, his hands, his chest or the way his fingers kept holding and playing with the cigar, drawing all of your attention to them. Or maybe it’s about his innocent eyes and the fact that they are so contrary to his wicked smirk and sinful words coming out of those pretty pink lips.

You are in trouble, you can tell right away, but you love it.

“Can you do one thing for me?” he asks, finally breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Of course.”

“Can you do one of those splits like you did on the stage?” He asks so innocently, yet so demanding.

“Yes,” you say and you spread your legs wide, sitting on the edge of the improvised dance floor waiting for his next move. He takes one big gulp of his whiskey, a little drop coming down on his chin and dripping on his bare chest. He doesn’t even bother to wipe it off, just licks the excess from his lips with his wide, pink, skilled tongue. You can't stop looking at that wet spot on his chest, traveling down to the unbuttoned area of his chest. At one point you even feel a bit jealous of that drop, since it can explore his body the way you never could.

“Show me.” Tom doesn’t have to tell you what he wants to see. It feels like you can read his body language perfectly. You do what you’re told. You grab your panties and pull them slightly to the side, exposing yourself completely in front of him. It’s surprising, even to you how wet you actually are. This never happens to you, so you can’t help but smile to yourself. As you move your panties to the side, you lightly brush your clit with your fingertips and your legs twitch. You let out a soft moan but quickly manage to keep your cool.

You are dying for him to touch you, to do anything to you, but you know damn well it’sagainst the rules. You can’t even bring him home after work, because that can put a bad reputation on the club and the last thing you want right now is to lose your job.

“You have no idea how much I want to taste you.” he mutters. The thought of him tasting you brings shivers to your spine.

“Unfortunately, if you do that I might call security.”

“And what if you don’t?” Tom answers almost mechanically, not even fully listening to you, his eyes completely lost in your pulsating cunt.

“See this little red dot on the ceiling,” you say and finally pull your panties back in their place, covering yourself. He looks up, “That’s a camera over there. So if you lay even one finger on me, the security will come bursting in here.”

“I think that is the last thing we both want, right pretty girl?”

“So you better behave yourself, Mr. Holland.” Tom raises his eyebrow the moment he hears his last name coming out of your lips. In that moment you realize that he never actually told you his full name. You felt your heart drumming a little bit faster in your chest. You’re wondering if you crossed any lines with your last sentence.

“Don’t you think that it’s quite unfair how you know my full name and yet I know nothing about you?” He teases, while adjusting and rolling up his sleeves a little bit. You feel an instant wave of relief mixed with joy.

“I can’t give you my name, but I can give you a lap dance instead.” You offer, daring him with your eyes to say yes.

“Only if you want to,” and you do. You can’t even begin to explain how much you want to grind on him, feel him under you, tease him, play with him and drive him crazy. You don’t tell him anything, you just stand up and start walking towards him.

You turn around and steadily start winding your hips and getting lower, until you can feel his thighs on your heat. The only thing you’re wearing right now is a tiny pink thong, which is more than revealing. He can see everything and you decide to use that in your advantage.

You keep switching your moves, swaying to the rhythm, leaning forward so that he could see your entire behind. Fortunately for you the room has mirrored walls so you can see his face for the entire time, even now, when you’re not facing him. He is leaning back on the bed, his eyes completely lost in your body, observing your every move. Whenever you lean forward and reveal more of your ass, you feel his thigh twitch and flex under you. And oh, does that feel good. You’re trying really hard to grind on his thigh and to do that subtly. You’re desperately trying to get some friction, some release and motion.

It’s undeniable that you’re turned on right now. You don’t even care that he can obviously tell that as well, since you can feel the wet traces you’re leaving on his thigh. The music is quietly murmuring through the speakers as you move your body perfectly in sync with the beat. Suddenly you feel something cold, a strange, sharp object running up and down your spine. At first you think it must be your nerves, but once you feel it again, you turn around to face him.

“You know I said no touching?”

“I am not touching you, gorgeous,” Tom says and he brings his hands forward, right above your thighs. He brings the back of his hands so close to both of your thighs but his skin is not touching yours. There isn’t any skin to skin contact, the only thing touching you are his large rings. And he runs his hands like that all over your inner thighs, the cold metal making your skin melt. You feel goosebumps as you watch his hands in awe. His fingers are long, bony with a few tiny veins popping on them. As he moves you manage to notice his bruised knuckles and those make his hands looking even more captivating.

“Are those for me?” He asks and you twitch a little, you didn’t expect him to talk, you got so lost in your thoughts about his fingers on you. Inside of you.

“Sorry, what?” You ask and finally turn your whole body, straddling him completely with just a few inches between your faces.

“The wet traces you left all over my thighs? Are those for me?”

“Yes,” you say as you watch a proud grim appearing on his face. It is too late to pull back now, even though you have no idea what he’ll do next.

He keeps his hands next to his body but you can see the way his biceps is tensing through his thin shirt. He wants to touch you just as much as you want him to do so.

“Also, about that question you have been dying to know the answer…” you say and notice the way he furrows his eyebrows while waiting for what you have to say next, “the answer is yes.”

His eyes are now completely lost on your lips. He swipes his tongue over his pink, chapped lips and leans in. Instinctively you lean forward as well. You feel his nose brushing over yours and you close your eyes, completely forgetting where you are and that you are in a club and that he is just a customer. You pull back a little once you’re aware of that and hear him whisper on your lips. “Wait here one second for me, okay?”

You nod and stand up so that he can move. He furiously storms out of the booth, not even turning back, and you have a sinking feeling in your stomach. Did you do something wrong? Nervously waiting for him or for anyone to come back, you start walking from one corner of the room to the other.

After what feels like forever, you grab your bra and start to untangle the little jewels and beads. Maybe you’re a fool for trusting him and revealing way too much, but you decide to get dressed and look for him. Just as you finally untangle the last bead, you can hear someone walking inside the booth.

“Hey, I was just about to…” and you can’t even finish your sentence, as he interrupts you with his lips. Crashing them into yours, finally.

You never experienced a first kiss like this. He isn’t going slow or taking his time. He presses his lips hard on yours, not wasting any second now. Almost instantly he flicks his tongue over your lips and you part them, letting him in. The moment his tongue touches yours you can taste the alcohol mixed with mint. His tongue feels soft and warm as it eagerly glides over yours.

You’re so focused on his tongue and his lips that you haven’t even noticed that his hands are now all over your exposed back. His hands are cold, almost as cold as those rings felt on your skin. It’s such a sharp contrast between his warm tongue and his cold hands. As they trail down to your ass and squeeze it lightly you moan into his mouth. It’s almost like the sound of that moan was your call back to sanity and you pull away from him immediately.

“We can’t, I might lose my job, the owner will be so mad at me,” you blurt this all out while trying to catch your breath.

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Tom says and you blink at him, still not fully understanding what he’s trying to tell you. You open your mouth, trying to come up with the next question and he gives you the answer before you can even ask him. “You work for me now, I just bought the club.” He doesn’t even flinch when he tells you that. You smile at first, thinking that he must be joking but the more you stare at his dead serious face the more you are convinced that he actually did buy the entire club because of you. Just for you.

“Fuck…” is the only thing you can say before you crash your lips onto his now. You can finally touch him and you do that carefully, dragging your palms over his jawline and delicately placing your fingers onto his soft hair. His hair feels so soft under your touch, almost as soft as his tongue. You still cannot believe that you’re kissing the hot guy who you were eye-fucking with just an hour ago, so you open your eyes just to make sure that this is all real. And it’s almost like he felt what you did, so he opens his eyes, too. You smile at this and break the kiss.

“What?” Tom asks, stealing a little peck while he waits for your answer.

“Nothing,” you smile, running your hands up and down his while he is holding you by your waist.

“You want this, right?”

“Yes,” you put your lips on his and moan into his mouth and bite his bottom lip. As you start kissing him again, your hands travel down to his shirt. Without breaking the kiss your fingers start working quickly to remove his shirt. Once he’s out of his shirt you can see the way his chiseled abs are moving up and down as he is breathing. You trace your finger over his chest all the way down to his abs and he leaves a small moan into your mouth.

As he breaks the kiss, he throws his shirt on the floor and starts sucking on your neck, leaving cold wet traces underneath your ear. He has no problems finding your sweet spot and sucking on it even harder. There will most definitely be a mark, but at this point, you don’t even care.

Your hands move to his zipper, but he stops you.

“Turn around, take off your panties and bend over while you’re doing it.” He tells you sternly, and you just nod in response.

You turn around and grab the waistband of your panties and start pulling them down slowly, revealing more and more of you. They’re soaked with your wetness, and as cold air hits you down there you start clenching at nothing. You take one look at Tom and throw your panties at him. You want to catch him off guard, but he somehow manages to catch them. He doesn’t even look at them, just quickly puts them in his pocket.

“I want you to touch yourself, just like you would later while thinking about me.”

“And what makes you think I’d do that?” You turn around to face him and chuckle.

“I saw the way you were looking at me while you were dancing over there, princess. Also, I have this as proof,” and he points to his pocket, where he put your panties.

You spread your legs and lay on the dance floor. Taking your time, you move one of your hands slowly over your breasts. You try to maintain eye contact with him while running your fingers up and down your stomach. Almost involuntarily you start clenching and you can feel your belly tensing under your fingers. Tom looks so hot, sitting down, taking one more sip of whiskey, shirtless, the only thing he has on his upper body being his silver chain. You were naked in front of him for the majority of this evening and yet he is once again too lost in you. If you thought you had him wrapped around your fingers while you were dancing, you were wrong. Now it almost feels like you’re hypnotizing him with his movements. You can swear he even stopped breathing, waiting for you to finally start touching yourself down there.

You take a lot of time to finally get your fingertips where he wants them. You can’t help but look over at his chest, his glowy skin as you’re running your fingers over your own. Still, you’re not touching yourself, you’re just running fingers over your folds, slightly spreading them so he can have the better view of you entirely. You’re so turned on that even this slight movement gets your fingers moist.

“Rub your perfect clit for me, princess,” he says, now propped up on his elbows, eyes dark and focused.

Slowly, you start rubbing small circles over your swollen bud. From the moment you touch your over sensitive clit you start moaning. There is no way you can stand propped on your elbow now, so you lay back down and break eye contact with him for the first time that night. Yet, now you can focus more on his voice and his silent moans, mixed with your louder ones.

You don’t want to go too fast, because then all of this will be over too soon. You tease your entrance with your index finger, just a little bit to collect your wetness and spread it over your clit, making your movements even easier. This feels so good and you don’t want to stop. You can’t slow down now, you’re too close to the edge.

“Slower, I don’t want you to cum like this.” You lift your head up to look at him. He is palming his cock through his tight pants, clearly very impatient and yet he decides to tease and torture both of you.

And you run your fingers over your clit gently and slowly. Yes, this feels good but you want his hands instead of yours. Those slim, lean and bony fingers, you want them on you, rubbing and fucking you.

It is so hard to keep yourself calm and away from cuming. If you open your eyes you’ll see him, shirtless, with the exasperated look on his face and his chest flexing with every small breath he takes. If you close your eyes, you’ll imagine his fingers, those rings and bruised knuckles buried deep inside of you, rubbing you instead of your own.

“Put two fingers inside,” and you do as he tells you. Your fingers go inside with such ease. As you start moving them inside, the sound of wetness echoes the room. Almost instantly, your hips start bulking up, trying to squeeze your fingers even deeper. You’re hitting just the right spot and start shaking, your movements becoming sloppier and faster.

“Are you close?” he asks.

“Fuck...yes.” You can barely answer, your words mixed with moans.

“Then stop.” It takes you a lot of willpower to stop, now that you’re so close to reaching that high. But you listen to him. You are so sensitive and close to your orgasm that it takes you a few seconds to calm down and stop shaking. Eventually, you get up on your elbows, with your legs still spread and hanging down from the edge of the dance floor.

After what seems like a century, he finally stands up and comes closer to you. Tom is smiling and bringing the glass with what’s left of his whiskey in his hand. You watch his every move and breathe fast, still trying to calm yourself down from that previous edge. He walks towards you and comes near the edge of the dance floor, between your legs.

“Open your mouth,” he asks, now standing above you. You look up at Tom and do what he tells you. You watch him as he brings his glass over your mouth and starts pouring some whiskey down on you. It tastes so bitter and warm since the ice already melted a long time ago. As much as you try to catch the most of the strong beverage with your tongue, a few drops start leaking down your chin all the way to your breasts. You gulp it down, wincing as it burns on your tongue and down your throat. He chuckles at your reaction and slowly pushes you down on your back again.

Tom puts the glass next to you and starts kissing down your neck until he reaches your niple, covered with whiskey. He sucks on it, licking it clean. It feels so good, the way his warm tongue traces over your nipples. You’re squirming and moaning under his mouth and nothing but a few “oh my gods” and moans escapes your lips. Tom’s skilled fingers are playing with your other nipple while he is still licking your other one, making sure to lick all of the whiskey off of it.

He takes his time on your nipples. As much as you enjoy him there, you’re burning with desire and want him to help you ease some of the tension that has been building ever since you first laid your eyes on him. Your blood pulsates in every direction, leaving you dizzy, heart beating, breathing heavy and melting under his tongue, teeth and lips on your nipples.

Finally, it feels like Tom decided to end this sweet torture and starts moving lower and lower on you. Without any intention you start buckling your hips when you feel his warm lips glading over your belly.

“Someone’s impatient,” Tom smiles and lifts his head up. He leaves one peck on your pubic bone and completely ignores that area. That sweet place that is yearning for him so much. Instead of kissing, licking or doing anything to your swollen bud, he moves to your inner thighs. Tom leaves plenty of kisses on them, biting and marking your skin, making you his. He is breathing heavily, but his breathing can’t even match yours. Your fingers are now entangled in his curls, guiding him as he keeps sucking on your thighs. He starts moving lower and lower until your hands can’t no longer reach him.

Once you open your eyes, you prop yourself on your elbows. You watch him leaving open mouth kisses on your inner thighs and once he reaches your lacy garter he puts it between his teeth. Slowly, he begins pulling it all the way down your leg, his hot breath making your skin shiver.

“Aren’t we supposed to be married first?” you ask him once he has you undressed completely. Tom chuckles and brings himself near to your face.

“Don’t you know that I always try to bend the rules?” you moan into his lips and he kisses you. “But, if a lady insists, I can give you one of this,” he lifts his hand up and puts it between the two of you. “I saw the way you were looking at them, you can have one.”

After giving him an ‘are you sure’ look you decide to take it. And since you’re propped on your elbows, the only way you can take the ring for yourself is if you do it with your mouth. Which is exactly what you do. You open your mouth and put his entire index finger inside while not breaking eye contact with him. You look up at Tom, with the most innocent look you could muster. He is not saying anything to you. The only thing he can do is mouth an inaudible ‘oh’ while shaking his head in disbelief.

You wrap your lips around the base of his finger tight until you hook the cold metal ring between them. His fingers are so long, they almost make you gag. You close your eyes while you suck on his finger, pulling out the ring, sliding it over each of his knuckles. You can’t help but imagine that instead of his finger you’re sucking something else. Something bigger. You start moaning and sucking a bit harder. With a wet plop you pull the ring out and open your mouth. You put your tongue out, showing your conquest to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Tom says while he watches you hold the ring between both rows of your teeth and lift a hand towards your face. You study his ravenous face while you push each of your fingers through the loop, testing them out and looking for the one that perfectly fits

Finally, he kneels until his face is at the same level as your core. You spread your legs a bit more to give him easier access to your warm core. He licks one long strap, from your clit all the way down your entrance. You can feel him smirking once he feels how wet he got you and he hasn’t even touched you down there yet.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” the vibrations as he talks that close to your clit make you shiver. Tom starts moving his tongue against your clit, flicking it so slowly and lightly, but you are already so worked up, you start jerking your hips almost immediately. He takes his time, licking long straps at first, not putting any pressure on your bud.

Both of you moan as he starts lapping your clit with his tongue, slowly and steadily. Being too sensitive from the previous edge, you can barely hold yourself up on your elbows. He keeps licking your inner lips and occasionally slipping his tongue inside of you, fucking you with his mouth. He seems to know what he’s doing, teasing you even more like this. As soon as you start buckling your hips up, he moves his tongue from your pulsating clit to your entrance. Your moans keep getting louder every time he comes back and once again focuses on your clit.

“Will you please let me cum?” Your voice trembles with anticipation.

“Since you’re asking that nicely,” Tom smiles and kisses your lower back before going back to your heat. You’re still not used to how much his face softens when he smiles. But it’s the dark spark in his eyes that turns you on and makes your heart race even faster. It feels like he’s unravelling you with his tongue.

He flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times, before beginning to suck on it. As he does that, you roll your eyes and start breathing even harder. And it’s almost like he knows exactly what to do to you and where to pay more attention. He tries to hold you in place with one of his hands, while keeping your legs apart with others.

You can feel your heat building in the base of your stomach, pulsating. Warmth moves all over your body, coursing through your bloodstream. Tom starts sucking harsher on your clit, pulling it between his lips. His face looks like a wet mess right now, spit and your wetness leaking down on his chin.

“Please don’t stop doing that,” is the only thing you can say before you start falling apart under his mouth. Your hips ride the way his tongue flicks over your clit. You grab his hair with both of your hands and glide over his wet tongue, stimulating your oversensitive pussy, moaning and heavy breathing. It almost feels like a dream, this intensity of the pleasure that came over your body. Tom has to hold your stomach, just to keep you in place so you won’t ruin not even one second of this ecstasy.

Tom helps you ride your orgasm to it’s last drop by keeping his strong, muscly tongue in place, letting you control the rhythm and ride it the way it works best for you. Curses and his name are the only things coming out of your mouth as you come down from your high. Finally, his lips leave your sweetest place and he starts kissing your stomach, nipples, all the way up to your neck. Once he reaches your lips he kisses you hard, teasing you and opening them with his tongue. Instead of kissing you back, he pulls away and whispers over your lips.

“Now get on all fours,” and you do as you're told, with your face down and ass up in the air, facing him. Even though you have your back turned on him, you can still see him if you look at any of the mirrors around you.

He runs his hands over your butt cheeks and playfully smacks your right cheek.

“Is this okay for you?” you nod.

“Can I go a bit harder?” Tom asks while looking at you through the mirror. You nod once again. “I need your words for this, love.”

“Yes.” And as soon as you say that you feel a slight tingling on your cheek as he has finally smacked you. Not too rough, but hard enough for you to quiver. Unexpectedly, this turns you on a lot more than you ever imagined.

“Should I stop, was this too hard?” he asks, with a genuine worry in his voice, soothing the skin where he slapped you.

“Please don’t,” you moan and feel his hand on your cheek again, slightly harder this time. It tingles, the warmth spreading from your cheek all over your lower back. He soothes your skin one more time with his fingertips. So delicately and gently. And it’s almost like those few slaps heightened your already sensitive skin and you can now feel his every movement. As he caresses your cheeks, his fingers tenderly nudge your wet entrance.

You expect his next move, already prepared for the burning sensation but you don’t feel his hands on your ass anymore, “You sure about this?”, he asks and you look up at him in the mirror and see Tom holding a condom in his hands.

“Yes,” you moan and in that exact second you can hear him ripping the condom and positioning himself from behind. You instinctively spread your legs for him, waiting for him to enter you. Tom places one of his hands on your waist, digging his fingertips into your skin. He is moving his dick over your folds, getting him nice and wet before sliding it into you. With every little move that he makes you can feel your belly and thighs clenching.

Only a few more strokes after and Tom gently starts stretching you out with his member. It takes a few seconds for you to get used to his girth and with a loud gasp you let him know that he can start moving now. And once he starts moving it feels so good, so exciting and pleasurable. It feels so fulfilling to finally feel him inside.

Tom takes no time before he is already balls deep inside of you. With every thrust he leaves a deep groan filled with pleasure. One of his hands is still on your hips and you can feel him slightly pushing you upwards, all the way up to his chest, still not pulling out of you. The first thing you feel once your back hits his perfectly toned chest is the way his cold chain is bouncing, caressing and sliding over your warm skin. It is almost embarrassing how turned on you are by him and everything he does. So much that even the way he wears his chain makes you so aroused.

“I want you to watch how beautiful you look while I’m so deep inside of you,” Tom whispers into your ear and as much as you enjoy having your eyes closed, you manage to open them up and see his hand wrapped around your breasts while the other one is trailing down your stomach, his lengthy fingers reaching for your clit.

Thanks to the way the mirrors are hung on every wall in the booth, you can see his movements from every angle. The way every single one of his muscles is flexing, his hips swaying once he is bottoming in and out of you. Once his fingers reach down your pulsating core and starts rubbing the pleasure becomes almost unbearable to you. You reach for his hands to get more stability and start trembling in front of him. The only thing you can see right now is the smug on his face as his merciless fingers and thrusts are making you cum so hard on him. With the loud moan you reach your high and ride it, his fingers finally slowing down but never completely stopping.

“Fuck, gorgeous, you look like an angel,” Tom says and starts leaving warm and wet kisses on your neck and ear, still holding you tight. After a few long and slow thrusts he picks up his rhythm again, that ruthless and fast rhythm that gets you on the edge of another orgasm in no time. After a few thrusts he starts rubbing your clit once again, pressing that lovely spot of pleasure both from the inside and outside.

The wave of pleasure comes even faster now, leaving you no time to adjust or open your eyes and focus on him. His hot breath is all over your shoulder and once you hear his voice, moaning into your ear you can’t help but let go, moaning and thrusting towards his arm this time even harder.

“Tom, please don’t stop,” you moan a desperate cry for more, for another release, another round of pleasure. He picks up his pace and you can feel your legs trembling involuntarily next to his. The familiar surge of another orgasm makes your moans and breathing erratic. Once it finally hits you, you leave a high pitched cry and Tom pushes you down, stopping his movements, just holding you in place.

“Fuck baby, if I start moving now, I’ll cum as well,” he is not thrusting, the only movement you can now feel is his dickf throbbing while still deep inside of you. You open your eyes and look at him in the mirror. Your eyes instantly lock with his. You can see the way he smiles at you while there are a few drops of sweat traveling between his chest.

“Cum in my mouth,” as much as you want to keep him inside of you, you also want to taste him. He pulls out of you and you immediately feel so empty while cool air brushes over your folds. Tom stands up and removes his condom while you turn around and starts licking his shaft up and down. You start sucking on it, taking it in as much as you can. Tom puts his hands on your head, but he is not forcing you towards him. He is removing the strands from your pink wig off of your face.

You open your eyes and look up at his face, his eyes shut down and curse words coming out of his pretty pink lips. As you look in the mirror behind him, you can see the way his ass cheeks are tensing, gently fucking your mouth. That sight excites you so much. If you thought you were done after your third orgasm, you were wrong, cause you can feel the familiar pulsating feeling deep down inside of you. You reach down and start lightly pressing on your clit, not going too fast cause you don’t want to lose focus and mess with the way you’re pleasuring him.

“I’m cumming,” Tom says as warm, sharp and salty liquid fills your mouth. You keep moving your head up and down, guiding him through his pleasure. Not stopping until he backs away, trembling from pleasure. Your mouth suddenly feels so empty, even though there are still traces of him there. You tried to gulp it all down, but the thickness and saltines of his cum and the way he pulled out of your mouth so abruptly makes you spit a few drops on your chin and chest.

"Sorry…" Tom breathes out as he tries to calm down from his orgasm.

"No, no, it's okay…" your fingers travel down your chest to pick up a few drops of cum sliding down. Your other hand is still down there, pressing your clit and drawing out the heat you felt just a few moments while you were sucking him off.

"Wait, I'll help," Tom kneels down in front of you and picks up the traces of him from your chest. He looks around, "I need to find a tissue to wipe my fingers off," but you grab him by the hand and guide it towards your mouth. You start licking his fingers clean and his face quickly turns from surprised to turned on. He makes sure you lick them all, pushing them deeper and deeper into your mouth, until a few tears form in your eyes. It is only then that he finally notices that you've been teasing and dragging your fingers over your entrance the entire time.

"I fucked you so hard and you still want more, princess? You are insatiable." He quickly pulls his hand out of your mouth and you release a disappointed grunt. But it doesn't last long, because he slides two of his already wet fingers into your pussy.

"Yes…" you moan as he starts picking up the pace. But Tom doesn't go fast this time. He keeps teasing you, pushing his fingers slowly, so deep inside of you and then pulling them in to rub your clit for a few glorious seconds. He repeats this motion way too many times for you to keep up. It’s almost like you’re floating.

You are overstimulated, all of your senses focus on the pleasure he keeps giving you with his fingers. It isn't until he speeds up and starts fingering you that you finally start letting go and giving up to him completely. Tom tries to keep you in place, but your legs are trembling and you are not sure how much longer it'll be for your knees to give up.

"Is this okay?" Tom asks as you feel his long fingers gently wrapping around your neck. You nod and moan, not being able to produce any coherent word. Not quite sure is it his delightful movements on your g-spot, his voice or the way his other hand keeps pressing on the sweet spot on your neck, but in almost no time you can feel the oh-so-familiar feeling finally building up enough to explode.

It’s like you’re in slow motion, the only thing you can feel are his fingers pressing the right spot at the right speed. A loud low growl escapes your lips as you ride the most joyous orgasm you ever felt. Wetness is dripping out of you, all over the floor and him. He kisses you breathlessly, like he never wants to let go of you. You're sure he can still taste himself on your lips, but he doesn't seem to mind. Tom looks so hungry for you, cupping your face with that same hand that was on your neck just a few moments ago. Once he stops, he mumbles a little "fuck", his forehead resting on yours.

"Let me help you clean up," you can barely speak, your voice still shaking.

"Of course not, darling, wait for me 'till I get you some towels," Tom hands you your panties from his pocket once he finally pulls his pants up. He doesn't even bother to properly button up his shirt, he just throws it over his shoulders, having his toned chest and that silver chain on display. You can't help but smile once you're on your own. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, but you're more than excited to try it out.

Once he gets back, he immediately starts cleaning your wetness from your thighs, going thoroughly over your skin.

"It's Y/N by the way."

"It feels like we’re doing this backwards, but it’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N." Tom lifts his head up and gives you a disarming smile.

"I figured, since you're my boss now, it's only fair that you'd know my name, y'know, to sign my paychecks and stuff like that…" you can feel the butterflies forming in your belly and there was no turning back now.

"I know they say that the boss shouldn't have any favorites, but I think I already have one."

"I just hope you won't change your mind once you meet the others," you lift your head up and your bliss gets interrupted once you see one little dot blinking. The red light you completely forgot about. That's when you feel a sudden change in your heartbeat. "Tom, there is a camera up there!"

"So..? I mean is that a problem?"

"Well, if there was anyone in the back office, they could've seen us!"

"I'm sure we gave them one hell of a show," you can't help but feel relieved. The way he handles things that could be a problem somehow makes you feel more attracted to him. You smirk and he starts leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs, "speaking of, wanna give them another one?"

"Right now?" You laugh and playfully mess with his curls, completely ruining his hair. Tom lifts himself up and comes near to your face. He leaves a few pecks on your lips. You part your lips and deepen the kiss. His kisses are different now. Less needy. Slower, deeper. Meaningful.

Once he parts his lips from yours, he says "Right now."

"Well, look who is insatiable now," you say and grab his silver chain, pulling him back to you and kissing him once again. Seems like it’s going to be one long night.

♡♡♡

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

Taglist: @thefallenbibliophilequote @beverlyparkerr @ladykxxx08 @devotion @dvhling @svturtles @mlmarint @lovelytholland @nehirsu @veryholland @hollandcrush

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland fandom #mcufam #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #mob!tom #red light

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needleandhammer · 3 years

Text

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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mysticalspiders · 2 years

Text

I’m going to make the argument that there are actually three songs about Chetney on Fearne’s playlist which is more songs for a single character that I have ever seen on a single CR playlist ...

Lil’ Red Riding Hood by Sam The Sham & The Pharaohs

This is the most obvious Chetney song on Fearne’s playlist, actually specifically calls Chet out in her commentary “Oh Chet. Big boys needs some scritches!”

“You sure are lookin' good You're everything a big, bad wolf could want”

“What big eyes you have The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad So just to see that you don't get chased I think I ought to walk with you for a ways

What full lips you have They're sure to lure someone bad So until you get to Grandma's place I think you ought to walk with me and be safe”

“What a big heart I have The better to love you with Little Red Riding Hood Even bad wolves can be good”

The little red riding hood metaphor works so well because of Fearne and her Nana!

“I'd like to hold you if I could But you might think I'm a big, bad wolf, so I won't”

These lyrics bring to mine the game of chicken that their relationship is.

Generally the song is a great song to protray their relationship. It’s from the persepctive of the “big bad wolf” which clearly represents Chetney (I’m reminded of Chetney’s playlists being chock full of “wolf” songs). It’s about the wolf pursuing the little red riding hood, so far in the campaign Chetney has mainly been the one pursuing Fearne.

Also the little howls throughout the song remind me of “All you need to do is howl at 3:00am and I'll be there.”

Afternoon Delight by Starland Vocal Band

I wouldn't argue that this was a song about Chetney if it didn’t immediately follow from Lil’ Red Riding Hood and Ashley’s titillating commentary of “*shrugs* Sure…why not.”

This song is obviously about sex, which is another reason that I think it most clearly represents her and Chetney and their 3 am ... plans?

The thing that I find so funny about the song in this context is that the song is about ... afternoon delight which is the exact opposite time of day as 3 am. In fact, the song sort of derides evening sex.

“Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night? When everything's a little clearer in the light of day And we know the night is always gonna be there any way”

The line “Thinkin' of you's workin' up my appetite” again reminds me of the slwoly building game of chicken.

“Thinkin' of you's workin' up my appetite Looking forward to a little afternoon delight Rubbin' sticks and stones together makes the sparks ingite And the thought of lovin' you is getting so exciting”

Finally (and I cannot believe I’m writing this) the line “But you've got some bait a waitin' and I think I might try nibbling a little afternoon delight” reminds me of Chetney and his werewolf bites.

Wolf Like Me by Lera Lynn

Now Ashley’s commentary says “Wildshape feels so good. Twists and turns you into something new and strong, slippery and fast, moving in a different way than your natural shape. It’s quite fun really and Fearne likes it.” I belive Ashley when she says that this song is about wildshape but listening to it I cannot except that it is only about wildshape.

“Got a curse I cannot lift Shines when the sunset shifts When the moon is round and full Gonna bust that box, gonna gut that fish

We could jet in a stolen car Bet we wouldn't get too far 'Fore the transformation takes And the bloodlust takes And the crave gets slaked”

“Charge me your daily rate I'll turn you out in kind When the moon is round and full Gonna teach you tricks that'll blow your mind”

“Gotta curse we cannot lift Shines when the sunset shifts There's a curse, comes with a kiss The bite that binds The gift that gives

“Now that we're gone for good Writhing under your riding hood Tell your grandma, mama too It's true, true, true”

“My mind has changed My body's frame But God I like it

My heart's aflame My body's strained But God I like it”

Again this song is so explicitly about sex. A song about sex that uses a werewolf metaphor ... It is so hard for me to not see this as a song about Fearne and Chetney. I like to think that the werewolf in the song could represent both Fearne and Chetney, two characters that can both turn into other animals and what that means. To me, this song feels like the opposite to Lil’ Red Riding Hood, almost like Fearne’s perspective on Chetney and his advances?

I also like the additional reference to a grandma which reminds me of Fearne’s nana.

I know that people see Fearne/Chetney as something completely a joke and not something to be taken seriously. Considering that Fearne/Chetney are the only C3 character with anything close to a canon sexual relationship it is shocking that there are only 4 Fearne/Chetney fics on AO3. I actually really like this ship as something to be taken seriously or at least somewhat respected? It has so much really fascinating potential (as I pointed out above, Fearne and Chetney are both the only ones in the party that turn into animals regularly and what tapping into that animal side could mean to both of them; Fearne and Chetney are the oldest in the party with lots of potential life experience, both are chaotic forces but in opposite, complimentary ways; both have soft sides that come out when their friends express their troubles or distress; etc.). And I feel like this playlist supports the fact that Fearne would actually like to fuck Chetney, and could possibly feel more for him.

To be fair, Fearne’s playlist made me want to ship her with everyone. Imogen has two songs for her on Fearne’s playlist and Ashton has one. Not to mention “remember that time we got to see the sea, my darling?” from Fearne’s exu playlist (I actually could see both Afternoon Delight and Wolf like Me being about this mysterious darling of Fearne’s past as well as My Lagen Love). Also, it is hard to make serious anlaysis about Fearne’s playlist because like anything Fearne says its hard to know if the songs are their to express some of Fearne’s deep inner feelings or are just there for the ~vibes~.

#critical role #cr playlists #fearne calloway #chetney pock o'pea #fearne x chetney #chetney x fearne #chetney meta #fearne meta #why doesn't anyone care about this ship??#there is so much already here!#should I put this under a read more?

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glitch-zero · 3 years

Text

Brahms Heelshire Nsfw Alphabet

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Oh, he’ll let you clean up, usually. But keep in mind that sex always will end in cuddles. No doubt about it. Even if you get up to shower, Brahms willl go and follow you in eventually, demanding as usual.

B: Bodypart (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Brahms loves his chest. His broad shoulders too. Makes him look all mighty and strong, which isn’t a lie.

Brahms also really likes it when you lay on said chest and shoulders.

His partner?... he can’t decide. Whatever he can hold and/or fondle is fair game in his eyes.

…

Though he does like a nice rack. And love handles.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Even if he’s caught up in the heat of the moment, Brahms still somewhat of a gentleman and will warn you when he’s about to bust one so you can avoid it; or direct it away from your face.

Though if given permission, this man will nut in you every chance he gets. He much prefers to fill you.

D: Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oh. Oh, this man is into watching you do everything. He’ll jerk off into your underwear while watching you shower. He’s a stinky man that can get away with jerking off behind a wall.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not experienced at all, but all that lack of sex in his earlier years makes it seem like he’s real good.

All that awkwardness dissolves once you get him going. If he’s on top, he can take the reigns.

F: Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

If you asked Brahms, (with the knowledge that he’ll freeze up and blush so hard his mask turns all hot), he would say he wouldn’t know. Whatever gets the job done.

But he does enjoy holding his partner’s hands. He’s adamant about that.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Brahms takes it pretty seriously. And even if he’s making a silly face during, it’s not going to stop him from drilling into you till you scream bloody murder.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Have you seen this man. Do you think this man, having an ungroomed head of hair, a thick ass beard, chest hair so thick it makes him sweat, has perfectly hairless junk.

He’s swamped down there.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very intimate. Brahms loves proving how much he adores you. How much he wants to make sweet love to you. Now, he isn’t as poetic as that, but he loves to make sure you’re appreciated every second you’re screwing.

This man cannot fuck. He makes love that just happens to also include fucking your brains out.

J: Jack/Jill Off (Masturbation headcanon)

This man has the whole inner walls of the house to himself. He can drop trou and crank one out whenever he wishes, moaning as loud as he wants.

Then again, if you’re in the same room (expanded on letter K), he’ll pipe down and won’t be as vigorous.

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks)

MAJOR VOYEUR. As I’ve said, this man can watch anyone and anything at all times behind the walls. He loves to watch you masturbate, hear you moan, hear you at your most private. Double points if you moan his name. (He actually might barrel out of the wall and spice things up, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

As much hype Brahms gives watching others, he doesn’t like to be watched. He likes to be in control, and he just doesn’t want to be spectated. Give this poor man some head.

Brahms’s other kinks include mild choking and clothing fetishism. He does like biting, but you’re going to have to fish that kink out of him. He’ll kill a man but there’s no way he’ll bite his beloved without consent.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

You’re alone in this giant mansion. You’re getting that Brahms cock everywhere.

But his favorite place? His room. He loves it, makes him feel good. Surrounded by his territory. You both are safe here, no one’s getting caught, even if it were possible.

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He’s so easy to turn on. Brahms is so touched starved it’s not even funny at this point. Just tell him he looks ‘kinda hot’ and you’ve earned yourself a clingy, horny Brahms for the rest of the day.

N: NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Please don’t degrade him, oh my god he’s going to cry. He needs to be praised, he needs to be reinforced, tell what he’s doing is good. It’s more rewarding anyway for both parties.

Don’t light candles/use candle wax either, that should be a given. You can probably get away with incense, but even still.

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Brahms enjoys head as much as the next guy, but the moment you show him some new trick or maneuver he’ll enjoy it a whole lot more. He’s a very dramatic receiver and will not stop looking at you. Hope you like eyes being burned into the crown of your head.

Don’t underestimate his giving skills though. He’s not well versed in oral, but the moment he hits your sweet spot he’s going to absolutely pounce on it. He can feign skill pretty well.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It all depends on how he’s feeling; Brahms doesn’t choose one over the other. His sweet innocent voice makes it seem like the latter, but don’t be surprised when you get the pounding of your life. It’s just how he is, be ready for both (unless you explicitly ask)!

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind a quickie! He’ll bend you over the dining table or pin you to the laundry room wall. Brahms is a big pushover though, and if you want to take it to the bedroom, he’ll carry you right over!

Brahms also enjoys quickies for the sake of how many positions can he get you in! All depends on the room.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Not much to risk, unfortunately. Living in a big empty house, far away from the big city. He could fuck you on that tiny balcony as much as he wants, but there’s no risk of you both getting caught (plus it’s England and cold, don’t do it outside hello).

If there was a chance, even, he’s game. He’s been jerking off in the walls for years now without so much as a peep, he knows he can shush.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s always satisfied with a single round, but you better be in for the long haul if you want to wear him out for good. He loves your enthusiasm! But don’t be surprised if on round four you’re exhausted. Your determination is funny to Brahms, but he’s a horny man!

T: Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Brahms totally would have a fleshlight, wouldn’t he. He’d be a creep and fix your underwear on it. But I don’t think he’d own one; he prefers to not leave the house and his parents would never buy such a crude item.

I think vibrators would be too overwhelming. He’d be happy to try, though. He’ll always humor you!

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Fuck yes, Brahms loves to tease. He’ll grab your waist, tickle your neck with his beard. He won’t take his mask off, but you can feel his hot breath emanating from inside.

He haaates being teased though. He gets all huffy, he immediately thinks that you want sex now, but when you step away to make lunch is the moment he gets cranky. How can you leave him like this!!! You know how easily worked up he gets!!!

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Very. Sure, you’d think Brahms prefers to be quiet during his life in the walls, but he’s just a ball of loud moans, ranging in severity. His voice gets all loud and squeaky, begging and whining, you’d wonder if he’s crying at this point.

W: Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Hugs are the only thing that doesn’t rile him up. He recognizes that hold as something sweet, something to treasure, something he’s never felt in so long. Brahms loves to be doted on.

Unless you buck on his hips. Oho, don’t get him started.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Bushy man. Decently thick. Perfectly rounded tip that has a slight curve. Cut. Seven inches when hard. Sports a noticeable thick vein trailing on the side.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Everything gets him hard. It’s not difficult to turn him on, just looking at his junk can make a night different.

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Most of the time, he’ll park himself on the nearest nappable surface and pass out with you.

#brahms smut #brahms heelshire #the boy 2016 #horror #slashers #im a simp

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Note

You haven't read the manga?..... If you only read the cherry picked levihan moments then let me tell you (not sending this with ill intend btw) that for every small Levihan moment there's a big eruri one. Like that convo where he shuts hange out after it was said about her crush on shadis? Levi actually talks afterwards about how he wants Hange to take over the rots mission and for Erwin to stay tucked in safe.

When Hange was hurt during the uprising the moment he sees Erwin he's just nonchalant about? And yes she said she was okay and he was mad about her being hurt in the first place, but the looks he gives erwin not only this moment but throughout? Not really platonic tbh...

Or the falling debris scene where he seems distracted? Yes he's thinking about hange's safety but the worried look is at Erwin's direction on the wall.

And also in chuugaku, there's a chapter about Erwin and Levi's relationship, exposition provided by Hange herself, where it's pretty much implied that Levi has the hots for him (complete with a bottom levi joke). Like he's the only member of the "home-making" club headed by Erwin where he basically cleans and cooks for him while erwin reads his paper like they're a couple and they've put marks like: don't search eruri on tumblr/ao3 haha.

Point is while levihan is a ship that's MAYBE canon, there's a lot more concrete evidence for eruri. The only thing that throws it off is there's no discussion about Erwin's feelings nowhere that could be interpreted as romantic. And combine that with his crush for dok's wife back in the day maybe he wasn't into Levi the same way/ maybe bi, we'll never know.

But Levi legit was in love with him.

What strengthens levihan on the other hand is that hange is transparent about her feelings for Levi. And if you take the last chapters into consideration then levi could have reciprocated them. It wasnt framed as clear as his feelings for Erwin though imo.

I'm not against either ship and think they're both precious, but levihan is a lot harder to read into and it makes me sad their romantic relationship wasn't more developed if romance was what Isayama hinted yo towards the end. Maybe yams left levihan up to interpretation deliberately? Maybe we read too much into it and it's not really there? Maybe eruri was queerbaiting? Maybe both are canon and Levi's just swings both ways? Idk the answers to any of that and unless the author comes clean we'll never be sure about levihan a hundred percent. Less doubts about eruri though...

Anyways, no hard feelings and I really LOVE your fanfics! Hope you have a very nice day and continue writing!

I have been looking for the right time to go through this ask because this ask just kinda made me think but not like about anything against the eruri ship. Like go ahead, ship eruri and feel free to meta eruri in my anon inbox but like the arguments here are a bit wishy washy.

Like that convo where he shuts hange out after it was said about her crush on shadis? Levi actually talks afterwards about how he wants Hange to take over the rots mission and for Erwin to stay tucked in safe.

Well, of course he would ask Erwin to stay tucked safe. Erwin is literally missing one arm and Hange was the most competent person to lead in the field at that point in time. How is this related to romance? I mean, if you wanna play the romance game, remember that Levi was legit injured, he could barely stand and he still forced himself to stand up to talk to Hange.

Levi literaly gave the most poker 'pokerface' in this scene and I do not understand how it could be seen as not platonic. If we're talking about non platonic looks then maybe we should look for a scene where Levi's biting his lip seductively because let's face it, all the looks Levi gave Erwin, Hange and Petra could all be interpreted as platonic, we're all just a bunch of shippers trying to find the romance and the canonicity for our favorite ship lmao.

Or the falling debris scene where he seems distracted? Yes he's thinking about hange's safety but the worried look is at Erwin's direction on the wall.

Yeah, because people like to stare at someone else while worrying about a particular someone's safety. I dunno but what if Levi was worried about both of them? Why do we have to blatantly disregard the fact that he explicitly mentioned 'Hange' in that scene and shoehorn Erwin's position in that scene.

Levi is literally an implied minor in chuugakkou and Erwin is a teacher. Nothing else needs to be said.

But Levi legit was in love with him.

The flawed evidence above will only make for a flawed conclusion.

As someone who has watched the show and read the manga and discussed this with people, none of my casual watcher friends even noticed Eruri crumbs. A lot of them didn't notice Levihan crumbs either so hey, we both lose here I guess.

My personal take on this and the takes of a lot of casual watchers I have talked to is, Levihan has more crumbs than Eruri but maybe it only got development given the circumstances post season 3 since Levi and Hange were working closely together. If Erwin didn't die, maybe there could have been more Eruri moments. I haven't seen enough though and I cannot so hastily conclude that Levi was in love with Erwin.

Levi could have in love with both of them. Or just one of them.

And yeah, maybe Levihans are reading too much into it. But so what if we read too much into it?

I like them. I will continued reading too much into relationships which I believe could have been healthy and could have had a great dynamic if they pushed through as something romantic.

The point of getting into a relationship is for two people to come out of it better people and I will continue to ship a couple which I think is sending a good message to others regardless of whether or not it was framed clearly enough for people to see the 'romance.'

'Living together' with someone may not be as clear as sex or a kiss for a lot of people but I think it runs MUCH MUCH MUCH deeper. Sex and kisses are a dime a dozen. Commitment and Cooperation are diamonds.

#levihan

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 3 years

Text

Born to Run / Chapter 11

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Marathon Runner f!reader (no y/n)

Rating: E (SMUT, 18+ only)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Mentions of spanking, body worship, ROUGH oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, d/s dynamics, soft dom!Marcus, also not-so-soft dom!Marcus, brief choking, restraints (why tf did Marcus bring his handcuffs on vacation??), dirty talk, good aftercare practices!!, implied oral sex (f receiving).

Summary: Your relationship grows deeper. Marcus reads to you one night, you tease him, and find out that teasing Marcus comes with consequences...

A/N: All the rough smut is 100% safe, sane and consensual. I mean, it's Marcus we're talking about here. My DEEPEST apologies to one Charlotte Brontë for putting her words alongside this FILTH.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

After your frank conversation after your nineteen mile run, you and Marcus grew even closer. Everything felt easy, effortless, in this little honeymoon period you found yourselves in.

The two of you seemed even more insatiable, exploring your now explicitly stated dynamic in the bedroom with increased enthusiasm.

("This time you're going to count them," Marcus said one night as he dragged the flogger across your cunt, causing you to nearly come then and there with only Marcus’s words and the light touch of the leather. "You're so worked up," he tutted as he watched your pussy flutter and clench around nothing. "Wonder how high you can count before you come," he continued, and you could hear the smugness in his voice, the pride he felt in seeing you tremble for him. "My guess is not that high," he said with a smirk, then brought the flogger down, and you gasped out "O-one!")

Almost better than that, though, (which was saying a lot--this was easily the best sex of your life) was how your relationship progressed outside the bedroom. It seemed that Marcus was in his element, almost incandescent whenever you willingly gave up your control to him. You couldn’t help but let his contentment rub off on you. You felt more comfortable letting him do little things here and there for you, letting him extend a bit of the influence you let him wield over you during sex, allowing him to care for you the way he wanted to.

It was just small things--like letting him wash your hair some mornings after a run, or sitting on his lap occasionally when he asked, but your favorite little habit he had picked up by far was when Marcus would sit on the sofa, pat his leg and look at you with a soft smile. You would lay down next to him, your head on his thigh, while you watched a movie, or, even better, while he read whatever book he had that night aloud to you. And every time, he would set his hand on the back of your neck and stroke up and down, up and down, making you melt into a happy little puddle of goo.

On one such evening, you studied him as he tapped his thigh and wiggled his eyebrows playfully. He was… beautiful. Such a sweet, gorgeous man, and you hoped he felt as cared for by you as you always felt from him. You wanted to show him how much you valued his presence in your life.

Instead of laying to the side of Marcus, you crawled onto the chaise lounge between his legs, resting your head on his inner thigh and bringing your arms to hug around his waist.

“Interesting way to lay on my lap,” Marcus huffed.

“I like it,” you said, matter-of-factly, hugging your arms tighter to punctuate your meaning.

“You want me to start from the beginning, or from where I left off reading myself?” Marcus asked.

“Where you left off.” You smiled. “I’ve read this one before.”

“Good,” Marcus hummed. He started flipping through pages until he found his place.

“‘Because,’ he said, ‘I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you--especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,--you’d forget me,” Marcus read, and you suddenly wondered whether this was truly where he had left off or whether he had hand-picked the exact passage he had wanted to read to you.

You reveled in the feeling of his warm thigh underneath you, the other just beside you, caging you in. Marcus was focused on the page, still reading, and you suddenly wanted to show him just how much you cared for him, too. You brought one of your hands out from where it was resting around his waist and started to lightly trace up and down his leg, pushing up his loose gym shorts and feeling the soft dusting of hair and the strong muscle underneath.

Marcus let out a little hum of contentment. “Feels nice,” before continuing to read.

“‘As we are!’ repeated Mr. Rochester-- ‘so,’ he added, enclosing me in his arms, gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips: ‘so, Jane!’”

Your fingers continued exploration, sometimes digging in a little more firmly to massage any tension away, sometimes just gently caressing, feeling him. You loved his body so much. You loved how it looked, but also how it made you feel--whether it was the mind-numbing, overpowering sensation of him pounding into you from behind, or the comfort you felt whenever you were lying in his arms against his soft tummy and broad chest. You hoped he knew how much you liked it, you thought. You wanted to show him. You moved your head and let your lips take the same meandering path up and down his thigh as your hand had done. You worshipped him with the soft, open-mouth glide of your lips up and down his leg, letting the hair tickle your upper lip. You punctuated your journey with soft, occasional nips that you then soothed with your tongue.

Marcus groaned. “I can’t tell if this is relaxing or arousing me,” he said from above you.

You giggled. “Bit of both, hopefully?”

Marcus continued to read as you moved your ministrations to the opposite leg, pushing up his shorts and nuzzling the muscle with your mouth and nose. You followed a path up, up, up--eventually moving your mouth over his clothed, half-hard erection. You inhaled his scent, breathing him in as you nosed him softly, just wanting to feel him, tease him.

Marcus let out a low moan. “Now you’re just teasing,” he said lowly.

“Is it really teasing if you have every intent to follow through?” you asked, playfully. Marcus cleared his throat, visibly affected by your actions, but started to read again, although his voice was slightly strained.

“‘I would not--I could not--marry Miss Ingram. You--you strange--you almost unearthly thing!--I love as my own flesh. You--poor and obscure, small and plain as you are--I entreat to accept me as a husband.”

You moved from his bulge down to the first thigh again, repeating the little kisses, nips, and licks once more. “Can’t get enough of you,” you confessed. You wanted him everywhere, wanted to consume him as much as he consumed you. You mouthed your way back up to his crotch, just wanting to feel it against your face again. You exhaled purposefully, hotly, against his now rock-hard cock.

Marcus stared down at you, book forgotten. When had he stopped reading? “You’re playing with fire, you little tease,” he growled.

You held his stare defiantly, as you opened your mouth over his clothed testicles, letting out another little puff of air and running your nose over the base of his cock.

His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip. “Are you wanting to test me?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

You only licked the front of his shorts in response.

Marcus’s hand darted out and caught you directly under your chin, his large hand squeezing gently on the sides of your neck, just enough to show you what he could do to you in this position. Using his hold on you, he lifted, pulling up slowly so that your body would follow. You scrambled up, eyes wide. He brought your face right up to his mouth, but stopped you just short of kissing you. His eyes were dark orbs. You let out an involuntary shiver.

“Stand up,” he directed, his soft, low voice contrasting with the fire in his eyes.

You swallowed thickly, getting to your feet, eyes not leaving his.

Marcus stayed where he was on the couch. He jutted his chin up, saying, “Take off your clothes.” He added, “Slowly,” when you rushed to comply.

Your heart was pounding as you brought your shirt up over your head and pulled off your sports bra. He didn’t react, only watched you drop them beside you on the floor. He nodded at you to continue. You pushed your leggings down over your hips, down your thighs, stepped out of them, and straightened, now clad only in your underwear. You paused and looked up at him, but he only raised one eyebrow again, and you held his eyes challengingly as you removed the last stitch of clothing and stood before him.

Marcus sat up, then, and moved to the edge of the couch. He reached out, and with one finger, traced the bend of your hip lightly, making you shiver. When he spoke, his voice was even quieter than before. “Walk to the bedroom.”

You swallowed again, heart still pounding with anticipation. You turned and did as he asked, pausing when you passed through the doorway to Marcus’s bedroom. He had followed, of course, and was right behind you. “Stay there a moment,” he said in your ear, and he moved into the room to his suitcase, reaching down to dig in the front pocket. You watched as he pulled out an FBI badge, set it aside, then reached back in for whatever it was he was looking for. What was he--oh, fuck. Your cunt clenched as you caught a glint of silver metal and you knew, you knew what he had retrieved even before he brought the object completely out of the suitcase. His handcuffs now in hand, he stood again, facing you. Watching, assessing.

He held them out, letting you get a good look at them. “Is this okay?”

Can we play like this?

You felt the wetness of your desire dampen your thighs. You could feel your lower lip trembling--with nerves, with excitement, with lust.

You knew by now that nodding wasn’t going to be enough for him. “Y-yes,” you managed to stammer out. You nodded frantically, enthusiastically, trying to show him you were, in fact, very into this, and that your shaky speech was a result of desire, not fear.

Satisfied, Marcus moved towards you, reaching out a hand to caress your cheek. In stark contrast to what was about to happen, he gently kissed your forehead, and your eyes fluttered closed. He moved behind you then, bringing his hands to your shoulders and trailing his fingers down, down, down, guiding your arms back as he did so, until he reached your wrists. He caught them in one large, warm hand, and you felt the handcuffs click loosely into place around them with finality. Marcus appeared back in front of you and caught your cheek with his giant palm once again, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip.

“So pretty like this,” he whispered. He trailed his hand down from your cheek to your shoulder, applying gentle pressure to indicate what he wanted you to do next. “Can you get on your knees, for me, beautiful?”

You nodded, and he gently guided you, helping you balance with your hands bound, as you slowly dropped to your knees. You couldn’t look away from his eyes. He held your gaze as he reached for his belt, unzipped his pants, and brought his cock out.

“You were so desperate for this earlier,” Marcus said with a little smirk. “Figured I should give you what you wanted.”

You whimpered as he dragged the tip of his cock gently across your cheek, teasing you with it. He brought his other hand up to your mouth, caught your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, and slowly, wordlessly, pulled down. You opened eagerly for him, and he chuckled.

“So eager for this?” he hummed. “Don’t forget--you were such a tease on the couch. I’m not going to let you take this at your own pace.”

You moaned loudly at his words. Please, you thought. Please don’t be gentle. You nodded up at him, mouth open, his thumb still holding your lip.

Marcus gave a little shudder of pleasure at your brazen enthusiasm, then pushed the tip of his weeping cock into your mouth, letting go of your lip and bringing his hand around to hold the back of your head as he pushed forward.

He didn’t give you any time to adjust; you didn’t expect him to. You desperately tried to get a handle on your gag reflex, willing your throat to relax as he kept pushing steadily inside, only stopping when he was seated fully in your mouth, your nose just millimeters from his belly. He started thrusting almost immediately, with deep, punishing thrusts, holding the back of your head as he slowly fucked your face. With your hands cuffed behind you, you had no control over his movements, no control over how deep he pressed. Tears immediately sprung to your eyes at the roughness of his cock pushing down into your throat over and over and over. But oh, you loved it. You wanted him to take it, to own you.

Marcus started talking above you, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me to be gentle,” he gently chided you. “You want me to take you, shove my dick down your throat, is that it?”

You couldn’t respond (obviously), but you moaned around his cock in agreement as he continued to overwhelm your mouth with his thrusts.

He continued, voice even softer, barely audible over the sound of him thrusting deep into your mouth, your heartbeat whooshing in your ears. “You want to be mine, yeah? Want me to have you so completely that you’ll even beg for me to use you like this,” he whispered. His words were filthy, dominating, but he said them so softly, so reverently, as if he couldn’t believe that you were letting him do this.

You were floating, concentrating only on when to snatch in ragged, hasty breaths as he continued to fuck your mouth. You could feel the tears of effort spilling down your cheeks, mixing with your saliva. His thrusts started to speed up, growing shallower, losing his rhythm, as he neared his climax.

“Fuck, you perfect little thing, look at you. Oh, shit, I’m-I’m gonna-” He thrust deep inside you one final time as he spilled down your throat. With effort, you swallowed around him, drinking him down.

As soon as he was finished, he immediately withdrew and sank to his knees before you, his eyes searching yours as he reached behind you to remove the cuffs. You were sure you looked like a disaster, your face covered with tears, spit, and God knows what else, but Marcus still regarded you with reverence, tenderness, with... with… lov-

Your face was suddenly being wiped gently clean with one of his shirts that had been lying beside the bed. Marcus examined your wrists for any injuries and kissed away the stiffness in your joints from the position. Pulling back, he took hold of your shoulders and looked you over.

“Feel okay?” he asked, trailing his fingertips up and down the sides of your neck. “All good?”

You nodded, “Good.” Your voice was hoarse from the rough treatment. You tried to clear your throat. “Promise.”

“Come lay with me for a little bit,” he said, helping you stand and then guiding you to the bed.

He leaned against the headboard and you settled on his chest with a happy sigh as his hand started its habitual, ceaseless journey up and down your spine.

He pressed his lips to your forehead. It seemed as if Marcus was happiest whenever his mouth was against some part of your body--you noticed that he often spoke his words directly against your skin. “You did so well for me,” he murmured against your temple. “So good. Letting me fuck that pretty little mouth so hard like that.”

You shivered, your neglected cunt still throbbing, flooding with desire after getting no relief of your own.

Marcus chuckled, sensing your need. “Just rest here with me for a few minutes, catch your breath. I didn’t forget about you, baby.” He tightened his hold around your shoulders and as always, you basked in his praise, in the safety and warmth of his arms. “Did so well… want to give you a reward for that,” he murmured.

You perked up. “Oh yeah? What do I get?” You smiled up at him, playfully.

He smiled back and leaned down, his nose brushing against yours.

“I’m going to return the favor, you silly thing. Fuck you with my tongue and fingers, and I don’t think I’m going to stop until you’ve come…” he looked up dramatically, pretending to consider. “...three times. But I think we could do better than that.”

You laughed. “Oh yeah? Is that right?”

He extricated himself from your arms and started to move down your body. “Mmhmm. Three’s the minimum,” he frowned with mock seriousness. “I bet I could give you more than three.”

He did, you thought--hours later, as you finally drifted off to sleep beside Marcus. He really, really, fucking did.

---------------------------

Additional A/N: Marcus is reading from Jane Eyre and you KNOW he picked that part on purpose ;)

Taglist: @honestly-shite @thirddeadlysin @deepstarsco @221bshrlocked @mando-amando @frenchyjuju @farfromjustordinary @chronic-nosebleed @stilettoforbeginners @leslie-lyman @gaiuswrites

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