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msgexymunson · 5 months

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Dr E. Munson, D.D.S

Description: praise from your dentist is the last thing you thought would stoke your passions. During another meeting, intoxicated after surgery, you accidently tell him how he makes you feel.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and smut, my favourite trio. NSFW Minors DNI, reader mid 20s and Eddie mid to late 30s but not explicitly stated, no real time given implied 90s but written as open, reader is AFAB, no use of Y/N, tooth extraction (don’t worry it's not gory), little to no knowledge of the dental industry (please don't come for me I tried my best), fem oral receiving, overstimulation, massive praise kink, p in v protected sex.

A/N: Well, the tale of my praise kink being activated at the dentist appears to have struck a chord with you all, so as unbelievable as this is, just go with it. Eddie's a dentist. Not just a dentist, but a soft pleasure dom dentist ;) I tried to make it believable!! Also, I can't write short fics anymore. I gotta get elaborate before I get into the good ole porn.

🖤 Comments and reblogs are my lifeblood, please reblog if you want me to keep writing, it really makes my day sweethearts. 🖤

8.8K words

Masterlist

Fidgeting restlessly with your rings, your leg shakes compulsively as you sit in the sterile waiting room. You really wish you didn't have to go through this alone, but your best friend Alex is working and you are far too old to be going to the dentist with your mom.

Needs must, though. Yesterday, whilst you were eating one of your nieces candy suckers of all things, you bit down and shattered a wisdom tooth. Just thinking about it you can see Dr Burke's stern face, with his ridiculously bushy eyebrows and wrinkled frown, telling you off for eating too much sugar.

When the perky receptionist calls your name and instructs you to go to room 2, you're a wobbling bubble of nerves. Walking over the cheap linoleum on click clack heels, you pause for a moment outside the door in confusion.

The little plaque on the wooden door is different. It used to hold old Dr Burke's name on it, but it's changed.

Dr E. Munson, D.D.S.

Swinging the door open, you see a much younger man sitting on a swivel stool looking over some notes. His hair is long and wavy, so long he's scraped it into a low ponytail, and there's a sprinkle of stubble over his face. As he looks up, you're met with the deepest, most soulful brown eyes you've ever seen. And is that, an eyebrow piercing? He flashes a grin, one filled with such mischief that for a second you forget why you're here.

“Well hello! You must be my next patient. Take a seat right here.”

He pats the treatment chair but you still stand gormlessly by the door.

“You're not Dr Burke.”

Well done idiot, state the obvious.

“Seems your eyesights OK.”

He shoots a wink at you which immediately turns your insides to jello.

“Dr Burke retired actually. I'm Dr Munson, I just moved to the city. You can call me Eddie.”

He extends a hand out to you. Shuffling forward in your pencil skirt you click your way over to him and take his hand. It's huge, enveloping your own, but he holds your hand with care and shakes it very gently.

He lets go to wash his hands and put a pair of latex gloves on.

“You know you don't have to dress up to go to the dentist, but it's appreciated.”

Is he flirting with me?

“I-I was at work this morning.”

You perch on the seat and pull your legs up, sliding your handbag to the floor.

“So, what seems to be the problem?”

“I was, well…”

“It's OK sweetheart, I ain't gonna tell you off.”

Sweetheart? Oh Holy Shit.

You found yourself clenching your toes in your heels. This guy is far too hot to be a dentist.

“I was eating a sucker and I, well, I bit down, broke my back right wisdom tooth. It shattered.”

He scoots his stool towards you and instructs you to open your mouth. As he examines you he hums, feeling inside your mouth with a gloved hand.

“Yup, that's broken up alright. I'm sorry, that must be painful. Don't worry, I'll do my best to help. I'm gonna do an x-ray, that OK?”

“Yeah.”

Pulling a little plastic T instrument from his desk, he wheels back over.

“Now, this is going to be uncomfortable, and I'm real sorry. Open your mouth and I'll slide it in gently.”

Face flickering a violent shade of red, you nod. Surely he's aware of how this sounds?

“OK, open wide, that's it.”

He puts the little contraption in your mouth.

“OK, now bite down. I know, it's uncomfortable. It'll just take a second. That's it, just breathe for me.”

It's not intolerable but it's not exactly nice. A moment before it would have been too much he takes it out.

“That's it, did so good for me. Well done sweetheart.”

Now, this is not the fucking time to have these sorts of feelings. A heat had started spreading between your legs that you haven't felt for quite some time.

“Hmm,” Eddie said as he looked at the x-ray, “I definitely need to remove those pieces. I'm a bit concerned about the tooth above it. That's got a cavity, it'll need to be removed, but it'll need surgery I'm sorry to say.”

“Surgery? Oh God.”

“Hey, it'll be alright. I'd do it now but it's too risky. Never had to go into surgery before?”

Laughing nervously, you fiddle with your fingers.

“I've never had a tooth removed! I'm a tooth removal virgin.”

The words just flew out and there was nothing you could do to pull them back. Eddie leaned in a little, a cheeky glint in his eye.

“Well, then I'll be extra gentle.”

A stare that's a fraction too long, and he scoots back over to his desk. Not long after he's got a needle in his hand.

“Now, I'm gonna need to numb the area, and this is going to be painful. But once this is done, that's the worst of it. If you need me to stop at any point, you just raise your hand. That OK?”

“Sure, do what you need to.”

“Atta girl, so brave for me. Open your mouth wide.”

My good God this man and his words; you can picture yourself on your knees in front of him as he says the same things.

Atta girl, take it a little deeper, that's it, so good for me…

Squirming hotly in your seat, you do as instructed and his gloved fingers invade your mouth once more.

“OK, you're gonna feel a sharp scratch, it'll go on for a few seconds, doing it now… good girl.”

As he says ‘good girl’ two things happen. He injects your gum, and you flood your panties. The pain is inconsequential at this point, you just want him to keep talking to you like that.

“OK, one more sweetheart… that's it, so brave, look at you, taking it so well.”

He stares at you with those soft brown eyes and once again you forget entirely why you're here.

“Now, you should start to feel your lips tingle, it'll mean it's working.”

Your dirty mind can't help but think; which lips?

As a numbness invades your mouth, you let him know.

“Yeah, it's definitely working.”

“Good stuff. Now, I'm gonna feel in your mouth again, OK?”

You nod, beyond words, and he puts his fingers in your mouth.

“Now, if you need me to stop, what do you do?”

Sheepishly you hold your hand up.

“That's it, atta girl. Such a good listener.”

Nothing you can do but beam inwardly at the praise.

“Now, you can feel me right here, but there should be no pain, yeah?”

Resisting the urge to moan around his fingers, you make a sound akin to a muffled ‘uhuh’.

“Awesome, now just hold still, you'll hear some crunching and feel pressure, and then it'll be done.”

As he pulls a shiny implement from a tray and starts working the tooth shards from your mouth, you focus on his forehead, at the look of total concentration. How the lines on his forehead furrow. How his beautiful eyes harden slightly. How his perfect pink tongue dips out…

“All done.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, a rich, bubbling thing, and nods.

“Yup. You're good. Need to make an appointment at the desk for the other tooth though.”

“Will you be doing that?”

It rushes out in a blather which you can't control.

“Sure thing sweetheart. Just ask at the desk for me.”

“OK. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Got to be there for my favourite patient.”

He flashes another wink at you which seems to rush straight to your knees as you get up and leave on newborn foal legs. Reaching the door, you hear his voice ring out behind you.

“And what should we do with suckers next time?”

Turning to face him, he raises an eyebrow, awaiting your response with the most serious expression he's given you so far.

“I should… suck?”

“Yeah you should.”

A mind altering grin later and he's turning back to his desk.

I should suck? What the hell is wrong with you! You need to get laid like, yesterday.

********************

It's a couple of weeks later and you're laying in the most unflattering hospital gown known to man with your best friend Alex who is trying to distract you.

“Honey, you'll be fine, they're putting you under! It's like, free drugs!”

You laugh at his antics, smiling with nerves.

“It's not the surgery, its-”

You hear mumbling in the doorway, two nurses gossiping in what they must think is out of earshot.

“Did you hear? Dr Munsons performing the surgery?”

“Yeah, he's not even supposed to be here. I hear Dr Stevens is pissed.”

As they walk away, continuing their whispering, you look over to Alex who is smirking at you.

“Oh, so he's not even supposed to be here? Ooh he likes you!”

You blush, thinking about the other day.

“No! I… I asked for him, that's all. You know I don't like this sort of shit.”

“Ah, so you thought Dr Dreamy would make it bearable huh?”

“Shut up!”

Dr Munson walks in then, smiling that smile that held a firm grip on your panties. Alex's eyes widen as he mouths the word ‘hot’ to you. You subtly nod your agreement and then smile at Eddie.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.”

“Couldn't stay away,” you respond, rolling your eyes. He chuckles back and looks you up and down.

“I told you sweetheart, no need to get dressed up for me.”

“What, this old thing?”

You share a laugh whilst Alex's eyebrows raise practically through the roof. This is clearly crossing some line, this banter between you, but he's the doctor and he started it.

Soon, the procedure has been explained and they're wheeling you out of there and putting you under anaesthesia.

“OK, good job, such a brave girl. Now, countdown from ten for me.”

“Ten, nine, eight…”

********************

Blinking bleary-eyed, you look around and catch the eye of your friend.

“She's awake! You OK?”

You are OK. In fact, you're fantastic.

“I'm great! M'I goin’ in surgery now?”

“You've been, it's done! It's all fine.”

“Huh?”

A fantastically handsome man walks in, entirely distracting you. Long hair, sparkling eyes, a gorgeous smile, and a slender tall frame. He's so hot. Wait, you can just say he's hot, right?

“Wow, wh'ryou? You're suuuper hot.”

He laughs, looking a little embarrassed.

“I'm Dr Munson, remember? Eddie. The er, drugs will wear off soon.”

“Eddie!”

You sit up immediately, despite the hands that shoot out to keep you still.

“Now, take it easy, the ketamine makes people act a little funny. How are you feeling?”

“M’great! All… floaty like. S’good shit.”

Eddie laughs as Alex holds his head in his hands.

“Good to hear. It'll wear off soon, I'm sure your boyfriend will take good care of you.”

“Nooo he's n’my’boyfrien’. He's suuuper gay. Ya’single? I no’had- not had any for nine months!”

Alex pipes up.

“Honey, you know I love you, so much, but you need to shut your mouth.”

Eddie laughs, flashing his perfect teeth.

“He's got a point. Glad you're doing good, the surgery went smoothly, so you'll be good to go in a few minutes.”

“Thank's'much Eddie. God, you're s’gorgeous. Did I do good?”

Eddie looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“Course you did. The best. That's why you're my favourite patient.”

Holding your hand up to your mouth and doing the worst stage whisper known to man, you look at Alex.

“See? Tol’ ya, his wors’ make me wet.”

“...aaaand that's the line. Thanks for taking care of her Dr Munson, I'll get her home safe.”

With protests from you, Eddie shuffles awkwardly out of the room. After a little while you're discharged, with Alex promising to look after you until you're back to normal.

********************

The strong coffee aroma assaults your nostrils; you take a massive inhale of your cup as if the caffeine could be absorbed by smell alone. The coffee shop was busy this Saturday morning but you'd managed to carve out your little comfy seat and tiny table so you can work on your writing. It was a relief after the busy week you've had to actually focus on something you love.

The noises and chatter of the place wash over you as you zone out, thinking of how to handle the plot twist coming up. It needed to be thoughtful, but unforced, as if the characters…

“Well, if it isn't my favourite patient.”

“Huh?”

You look up and see a very familiar pair of eyes. Eddie. The rest of him however, looks very different.

Eddie's in an old Iron Maiden t-shirt, worn with age, and tight black jeans. A chain hangs low at his hip, and his large hands are adorned with silver rings. His hair is loose and unkept around his shoulders, but his signature smile still beams at you. His forearms are on display, covered in tattoos. It's certainly not what you were expecting. How did he just get even hotter?

Remembering what Alex told you about how you made an utter fool of yourself brings you out of your revelry. The stuff you said to him after surgery makes you visibly cringe. You were torn between wanting to ask him out and wanting the ground to swallow you whole.

Cheeks blazing with heat, you find your voice.

“Eddie! Er, hi.”

“You mind if I sit here? It's pretty packed.”

Gesturing at him to make himself comfortable, he swings his leg over the stool opposite and sits down, mug of steaming coffee in his hands.

“What brings you here?”

“Well, I write. As a hobby, you know? Needed to get out of the house and get some done. And you?”

He points a thick finger across the street and you gulp in your throat, remembering the feel of those fingers in your mouth.

“There's a record store across the way, I was scouting for anything I've missed. Unlucky today it seems.”

It was weird seeing him here. Like when you see a teacher in the wild. Except you're not a kid, and the teacher is fucking fine.

You nod and share a very uncomfortable silence.

“Listen, I'm sorry for anything I said-”

“Hey, don't worry about it sweetheart, it was the drugs. Trust me I've heard some weird shit!”

He seems to shrug it off and you breathe a sigh of relief. The last few weeks all you've managed to think about is how much of a fool you've made of yourself. Hopefully he's chalked it all up to the drugs. No need for him to know you were speaking the truth.

“I gotta say, you don't look like a dentist.”

Eddie laughs, a perfect deep laugh that has you squirming in your seat.

“Yeah, I get that alot. I er, used to get beat up when I was a kid. I got punched real hard once, broke my jaw. It was wired shut for like six weeks. After that, well, you find some respect for dentistry. Thought I'd give it a shot, went to school. Seems I have a knack for it. I have an impeccable bedside manner, apparently. Or so I'm told.”

I'll say.

“I can- I can see that.”

He blazes a grin at you that damn near combusts your insides. And that's what you blame for the thing that's about to fall out of your big mouth.

“Listen, I know this is crazy but can I have your number?”

What the fuck are you doing?? Hitting on your dentist?

It seems your word vomit was indeed something that happened in real life and not just in your head. Eddie looks pained as he warms his hands on his coffee mug.

“Listen, sweetheart, you're a very pretty girl but… I can't. It'd be wrong of me, you're my patient and-”

“No, I get it, it was dumb, ignore me.”

You grab your belongings at the speed of lightning and stuff everything into your bag.

“Hey, sweetheart, wait, I literally ca-”

Hell no.

You've made more of an idiot of yourself than you're prepared to be comfortable with. Now, cheeks burning hotly you shoulder your heavy bag and bustle out of the store, leaving an open mouthed Eddie sitting there with his arm outstretched.

********************

Today was the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake of embarrassment. You've never asked a guy for his number before and the first time you do you're shot down? Confidence well and truly knocked, you called around and found a new dentist, and then called your old dentist's office to let them know. There was no way you could face Eddie again after you'd made a fool of yourself three times.

In an effort to cheer yourself up after that disastrous rendezvous, you'd dressed up, put on your highest heels paired with your shortest skirt and a red silk blouse, and went out for a night on the town.

Now, you don't make a habit of sitting at the bar on your own. You've dealt with enough creeps in your time to know that it was a bad idea. However, when it comes to your friends, you can give a little leeway.

Hence why you sat in your very short black skirt, heels tapping on the little rail on the bottom of the bar as you sip your Manhattan, watching your friend Alex out the corner of your eye have a make-out session with his new boyfriend. They were sitting at a table just to the right; you were on a barstool giving them a couple feet of privacy.

It was getting a little old though. In the past half an hour three men had approached you. You can't lie to yourself, it was the reason you'd agreed to be a third wheel in the first place. Trying to manifest the right kind of man clearly wasn't working however.

The first guy looked around twelve, with the wispiest facial hair you've ever seen. As he'd nervously bumbled a line at you, you told him you've never seen a theoretical moustache before. That saw the back of him. Contestant number two was the sleaziest douchebag in the whole bar, perhaps the entire city. He was the hardest to deal with; you'd ended up just turning away and ignoring him until he'd left. Number three was some balding, middle aged man with a pot belly and a stained tie. Exhausted by the previous two, you interrupted his practised line with one clear and concise ‘No’.

Almost certain that your date tonight would involve you with your vibrator, you order another cocktail. On your left directly next to you a guy starts leaning on the bar and calls to the bartender.

“Hey Jack, can I get a beer please, and whatever this lovely girl is drinking.”

Rolling your eyes and turning to look at contestant number four, ready to tell them to fuck right off, you realise its Eddie. Of course it fucking is. The universe seems to have a horrible sense of humour today. He's still in his jeans and boots, but now sporting a burgundy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Stupid dentist and his stupid hot tattooed forearms.

“Are you following me? I don't need a pity drink thanks, I'm good.”

You reach into your purse to pay for the drink you ordered but Eddie already has cash in his hand. He pays for it anyway and leans on the bar facing you.

“It's not pity, it's an apology for earlier. And I think you're the one following me, I live two floors up.”

Lips pressed into a firm line, you stir your drink with its cocktail stick and pretend that dentists don't exist.

“You can't just ignore me, you know.”

Taking a sip of your drink you continue to stare resolutely forward.

“OK, you can just ignore me, but I'd like it if you didn't.”

Another sip, and you pull the little cherry off its stick and chew it.

“So, you got a thing for dentists or is it just me, sweetheart?”

That's it, you turn angrily to face him and scowl.

“That's totally unfair you can't just-”

“Ha, got ya talking.”

He's grinning at his little victory, laughter lines creasing near his eyes. If your eyes could shoot daggers you're sure he would have died from blood loss at this point.

“Listen, I'm sorry, OK? I would have said yes in a fucking heartbeat, but I could lose my license.”

Your eyes soften; he's clearly telling the truth and it does make sense. His licence hadn't even entered your mind.

“I understand. Sorry for being rough on you.”

“Don't worry about it. I just thought I better clear the air if I'm gonna be your dentist.”

“Oh, don't worry about it. You're not.”

“Huh?”

Looking down at the bar and drawing circles in the condensation from your drink with a finger, you explain.

“I couldn't face seeing you again, so I, ha, ran off to a different dentist. It's a half hour out of my way, but never mind.”

Eddie's posture changes immediately, standing fully to attention.

“You're not my patient anymore?”

“Nope,” you reply, and knock back the last of your drink, “I'm not.”

“You're not my patient anymore.”

You risk looking back at him; he's wide eyed, nodding in your direction, as if he's just told a joke that you didn't get. Face scrunched with confusion, you blink it away as a light bulb pings on inside your head.

“Oh. I'm not your patient anymore.”

The grin that slowly unfolds across Eddie's face is damn right sinful.

“You wanna come upstairs?”

“Hell yes.”

Leaping lightly off of the bar stool, you turn to dislodge your coat from the back of Alex's chair and wave at him frantically to tell him you're leaving. He turns to you, then Eddie, then back to you with what can only be described as A Look. If you weren't so excited you would have admonished him, but who the fuck cares.

Eddie grabs your hand firmly and pushes through the thronging crowd with you in tow. The cold night air hits you like a blow to the chest when you escape, as does your rash decision.

Eddie seems to sense your hesitation. Pulling you into a doorway he grabs your other hand and looks at you.

“Sweetheart, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can just go upstairs, have a drink, or not, and chat. Really.”

“Really?” You cock your head with the question as he licks his bottom lip with a pink tongue, dragging it to his perfect teeth to bite. He looks nervous, and for some reason, that is doing it for you right now.

“Really. I'm just saying we don't have to rush-”

The rest of his sentence is swallowed whole by your kiss as you tip your head up and push your lips against his firmly. Eddie grabs your waist with one hand, the other snaking into your hair to cradle your head.

For a moment you forget about the cold, about the fact that anyone can see you like this right now. All that matters is the pounding heat of his body smashing against yours and the passion pouring from his tongue as it swipes and rolls and fills your mouth with unexpected moans.

Nails digging into his back, as if attempting to claw under his clothes, you force his body against the wall in the wanton desire to be closer. His hand massages the silk of your blouse at your waist, warmth spreading from his palm into your very flesh and seeping down between your legs.

You'd have him, right here, against this wall, right now, if he hadn't pulled your head back softly to break the kiss. The tips of your noses rub together as you both gasp for the same air. He's smiling and biting his lip again, but this time it looks like a distraction to stop himself from devouring you. Eddie breaks the feral spell first.

“So, just a chat, yeah?”

You both laugh, a giddy silly thing reserved for the two of you.

“Yeah, you're probably right. Don't want to rush these things.”

Nodding sagely, you take his proffered hand and let him lead you inside and up the stairs.

You're not sure what you expect his place to look like, but you're pleasantly surprised at how open and spacious it is. Hardwood floors, big windows, a big black sofa, and an open kitchen area with a little breakfast bar. There's a wall of shelves with what must be hundreds of records, CDs and tapes on it, all neatly organised and displayed, and an expensive looking sound system. Two guitars sit by the couch as if they'd been played recently, along with an amp that seems to be doubling as a side table. There's a small pile of boxes over by one wall that have yet to be unpacked. And that's it.

No wonder it looks so spacious, there's nothing in it.

“Eddie, it's a great place, but er, where's all your stuff?”

He looks a little sheepish as he flicks a standing lamp on and shuts the curtains.

“Yeah. Got the basics sorted; kitchen, bedroom, music. Honestly, never lived anywhere this big before, and my last place came furnished.”

He gestures widely at the sofa with a swing of his arm and you perch on it, ankles crossed, fully aware of how short your skirt is.

“So, you wanna drink? Unfortunately I can't make a Manhattan but I’ve got rum, some vodka, sodas, maybe a beer?”

“What do you mean you can't make a Manhattan? What sort of establishment is this?”

You huff dramatically, folding your arms.

“I'm terribly sorry Ma’am, I shall have a word with the management.”

Eddie falls to one knee in a low bow, a mock plea for your forgiveness and the sheer goofiness makes your heart do a little hop inside your chest.

“What can I possibly do to make it up to you?”

His eyes are open, honest and sincere. But the grin fighting to crawl over his face is naughtiness personified.

“Well I shall have a beer now, and maybe you can make it up to me later?”

Smirking, he presses a soft kiss to your knee, then another, to the side of it. Letting his teeth drag further he playfully nips at the outside of your thigh and smooths the area with a lick.

Breathe. Remember, you need oxygen to live.

You take a harsh, ragged breath in as if inhaling for the first time and try to concentrate on slowing your heart rate. This is madness, you feel wrecked from a sprinkling of kisses.

Feeling Eddie's soft chuckle as the air from it dances on your thigh, he gets back up looking far too pleased with himself.

“You know, you shouldn't be that forward with a lady.”

Throwing his head back and laughing loudly he walks around the back of the couch. Directly behind you, he begins talking again.

“I don't see a lady here.”

Whipping your head around to reprimand him, he bends to your level and whispers in your exposed ear.

“I see a very good girl.”

Words die in your throat having never reached your tongue. There's no witty repartee, just an odd noise that blurts out of you, halfway between a whimper and a squeak.

Eddie walks away towards the fridge to grab your drink, no doubt with a very smug look on his face. In his absence you fan yourself to try to quench some of the raging heat within, but at this point it's like throwing a water bomb at a house fire. Undoing one button on your blouse, you let the girls have a little air at least.

He returns, drinks in hand, and offers one to you with a bow of his head.

“Milady.”

You take it and sip as Eddie sits next to you.

“I thought I wasn't a lady?”

“You are right, absolutely right,” he responds, shuffling closer to put an arm around you, and nuzzles your neck teasingly, “and I am not a gentleman.”

You reach out to the side, and realise there's nowhere to put your beer.

“Eddie, you need a coffee table or something.”

“Just, put it on the floor.”

Placing it gently on the floor, wincing as you do so, you mumble half to yourself, “if my mother could see me now…”

“I'm sure she'd have more important things to say than about the lack of coasters, sweetheart.”

“You have a very good point.”

Eddie holds your jaw, softly turning your face to his own, and presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, and finally to your lips. It's more gentle than the searing heat of the last one; a languid spell of tongues finding their way against each other.

As you both break away, Eddie strokes your bare thigh, whispering in your ear as he does so.

“God, when you walked in my office, I thought I might have to switch professions. I just wanted to hike that tight skirt up and bury my face right here.”

His hand moves up your leg, a finger ghosting over the top of your panties that makes a shiver work all its way to the tips of your toes. It's a bold move, and one you wouldn't stand for usually, but this is Eddie. You've been fantasising about this for the last two months. Hell, this scene has played in your brain so long it was almost like it didn't feel like the first time.

So, if he's going to be that bold, then bold it is.

“Well, I gotta confess, it took a lot for me to not moan around your fingers in my mouth.”

Eddie groans loud, throwing his head against the back of the couch.

“Fuck that's so hot. C'mere.”

He's coaxing you into his lap and you follow his lead, swinging your leg across him and most likely giving him a choice view of your lacy underwear. His large hands wander over your frame, mapping out your curves with his eyes as well as his fingers.

“Eddie.”

You breathe it out, your hands resting on his shoulders. He's getting hard beneath you, you can feel it as your hips start to move back and forth of their own accord.

“Hmm?”

He doesn't look up, busy stroking your sides, thumb brushing your breasts with each pass. Every nerve feels like a live wire, feeling more needy than you think you've ever been.

“Eddie, please, just kiss me.”

“No.”

“No?”

He does look at you then, giving you a cheeky smile.

“I think I've got the hottest girl in the city on my lap right now, let me savour it a little.”

Rolling your eyes, you reach to the front of your blouse and start unbuttoning it slowly, letting the silky fabric fall off your shoulders and away. The fates seem to be in your favour for once; this is your best bra, adorned in satin and black lace.

“Well, someone's eager. Were you looking to get lucky tonight?”

Eddie says as he smirks at you, a hand stroking up, over your laced covered chest, coming to rest on the side of your throat.

“It's been a while Eddie, forgive me for being keen.”

“Oh yeah, what was it? Nine months, right?”

Cringing at his words whilst he chuckles, you rest your forehead on his shoulder to hide your face.

“Technically no.” It's muffled into the fabric of his shirt.

“No?”

Still unwilling to look at him, you reply, “that was a few weeks ago. It's ten now.”

Pulling you upright again, he playfully pouts, a little mocking face that's making your insides pulse.

“Aw, poor, poor baby. Guess I shouldn't tease so much. Why don't you take this ridiculous skirt off and sit for me sweetheart.”

It's comical how quickly you follow his directions, shuffling your skirt off and laying back on the sofa, ass near the edge, as he drops to his knees on the floor in front of you.

“That's it, right there. Such a good listener.”

As he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs, you spread your legs to make room for him, breath quickening in anticipation.

“I suppose I better check,” he says as he looks up at you with a serious expression, pierced eyebrow arching.

“Check what?”

“How wet my words made you.”

‘Oh God!” you squeak, hiding in your hands, “I can't believe you remembered that!”

“Remembered it? I can't think of anything else.”

His thick rough fingertips reach higher and higher; he slips two under your panties, hooking them to one side as his digits glide through your wetness.

“Oh sweetheart, you're soaked. That must be uncomfortable. Don't worry I'm gonna do something about that.”

You're thinking of something clever to say back but your mind empties entirely as his touch moves to your clit and rubs slow, deliberate circles.

The relief of him finally stroking just where you need it has you near tears, breathy gasps pulling from your chest and rushing out your mouth.

His fingers leave you suddenly and you resist the urge to stamp your foot like an impatient toddler, fists tight at your sides. Eddie raises up on his knees, leaning toward your chest.

“I'm gonna take this off first, that OK sweetheart?”

He runs a finger between the valley of your breasts as he speaks, making your back arch into the hint of a touch.

“Y-yes.”

“Atta girl.”

He reaches behind you and flicks your bra clasp, opening it with such ease that it makes you question internally how many times he's done that before. Then, he pulls the straps down slowly and with such reverence that you forget your thoughts.

“Jesus Christ, you are just perfect aren't you.”

Solid knuckles rub gently over a pebbled nipple making you whimper and bite your lip. Leaning in, his mouth is wet and warm, almost leisurely massaging your nipple, then giving the same amount of care and attention to the other.

When his teeth graze you an unfiltered moan shoots out from you, entirely unbidden.

“Wow, you're really sensitive,” he says when he unlatches his mouth. He pinches one abruptly and you cry out, hand grasping at his bicep in pleasurable shock. Licking his lips, he grins at you.

“Oh we are gonna have a lot of fun sweetheart.”

Running a finger just under the hem of your panties, he pulls them down as you assist him, lifting your ass to give him room. He shakes his head, biting his lip as he takes all of you in with his eyes now that you're entirely exposed, as if he can’t believe his luck.

Kissing down your quivering form, he finally slips that overbold tongue of his between your folds, running it back and forth over your sensitive nub. His tongue searches you, taking care to leave no spot untouched. It's deliberate; a slow and intense exploration of your sex, as if mapping out every sweet spot, spurred on by the moans spilling from your lips with ever increasing frequency.

Each sound you make is echoed, mirrored by Eddie, as if he was taking as much enjoyment in eating you out as you were in receiving it. The build up is as slow as his movements, but that certainly isn't a bad thing. Far from it. The feeling fizzing in your very blood is deep and profound, and it keeps building.

Until Eddie does this twirling thing with his tongue that makes your eyes cross, that sets each one of your nerves on fire, fingers desperately grasping at his soft waves as you moan even louder.

“Fuck, Eddie! Right there!”

His words are muffled, a hint of amusement in them, but you're sure he says “yes ma'am.”

Then he does it again, and again, tongue twisting like it's independent from his body, swirling you into a deep pool of overwashing ecstasy. Back leaving the soft confines of the couch you clutch at his hair as your hoarse moans pound out of you, until you flop back down, a glistening panting mess.

Eddie's still kissing your delicate parts, leaving soft, almost innocent kisses. He presses his lips to your clit again and you squirm, trying to get out of his gentle, grasping hands. It's a soft touch, but his hands are immovable, like velvet wrapped around a steel bar.

“Eddie, fuck, I-I'm really sensitive-”

“Oh I know sweetheart,” he says, pressing his mouth against you over and over, “but we're not done.”

Staring at him wide eyed, he lifts one hand, ring and middle finger outstretched, and brushes the tips of them to your kiss bitten bottom lip.

“Can you get these nice and wet for me sweetheart?”

Parting your lips slightly, he slips the fingers inside and you do as instructed, licking and suckling on them, surprised by how fiercely you wanted to. They felt rough and heavy on your tongue. Eddie's staring at you with a burning admiration in his eyes, still pushing his lips to you. He suckles softly at your clit making you writhe and moan around him. As he pulls his fingers out you call to him.

“Eddie, I can't it's too much-”

“Shhh, princess, do you really want me to stop?”

A little drop of shame trickles down your throat at the thought.

“No,” you whisper.

“That's what I thought,” he says as his fingers circle your silken entrance, “be good for me sweetheart, good girls come twice.”

You're not sure if the heady moan that you release is due to his fingers slipping inside you, or his words. It could be a combination of both. Stroking at you incessantly, his fingers drive into you, perpetually caressing that soft spot inside that makes your toes curl.

Your release creeps up unsurprisingly fast. It's all force and pressure, a tightening, full feeling that's gripping your insides in its strong claws. One minute you're holding on to reality and the next, you're gone, floating away as the pressure melts and cascades from you like stardust.

Your vision unblurring, you realise what's happened when the sound of it reaches your ears. That squelching, soaking noise of Eddie's fingers working you through the last throes of your pleasure.

As you look down Eddie's staring at your dripping pussy with awe, having to pull his fingers out of you with a bit of force since you don't seem to want to let go. He sits back on his heels with a smile that could rival the Cheshire cats, absolutely coated in your juices. It's covering his face, his hand, and it's even darkened the front and sleeve of his shirt.

An apology nestles on the tip of your tongue, but it stays there when Eddie speaks.

“Atta girl, did so good for me. Fuck, I kinda want to see if you can do that again.”

Opening your mouth for a witty remark, it escapes you. Your usually sharp mind is now the consistency of spray cheese. All that comes out is a soft little noise, a cross between a hum and a thank you.

“Stay right there, I'll be back.”

You giggle a little as he runs off. Where on earth does he think you'll go? And more importantly, how?

When he returns his face and hands are clean, and crucially, he's shirtless. Lean muscle gleams in the low light, decorated with a dozen or so tattoos. He's got a cloth in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

“Here, drink up sweetheart, you need it.”

You search for a hint of playfulness or smugness in his face and come up empty. In fact, he's staring, waiting for you to take a sip. When you do, he smiles, and goes about wiping the tops of your thighs. The cloth is even warm. You've never been given a warm cloth before, the closest being a handful of scrunched up tissues.

“Eddie, where have you been all my life?”

Laughing loudly, he sits next to you, stealing a sip of your water.

“I came as quickly as I could.”

It was a cheesy line, but you're beyond caring, a goofy grin smeared all over your face.

“Can I take you to the bedroom?”

You nod and before you can get up he's scooping you into his arms.

“Eddie, I can walk you know,” you say as you drape your arms around his neck.

“Oh I know, I just want to take care of you.”

Fuck. You could move in tomorrow.

The only things you notice about the bedroom are the soft blue of the duvet as he places you gently on top of it and the bedside lamps he flicks on that bathe the room in a warm glow. The rest doesn't matter, not right now. Your eyes are on him as he stands at the edge of the bed, looking at you as if you were a beautiful sculpture carved from the finest marble.

Getting up on your knees, you smile cheekily up at him as you hook your fingers into the worn denim and pop the top button.

“And what do you think you're doing?” He asks, hand moving up to cradle your face.

“I was going to return the favour.”

You unzip the fly and pull them down, eyes widening at the swollen bulge in his trunks. They're tight, leaving little room for the imagination, but anything you may have imagined couldn't possibly compare to the real thing.

“Not tonight sweetheart. Like I said, I want to take care of you.”

He turns to the nightstand and rummages around, pulling out a packet of condoms. It's new, you notice, as he unwraps the film and takes one out, placing it on the side whilst he rolls his underwear off.

As he's putting it on you gawp shamelessly, truly wondering if it's actually going to fit. No wonder he's so confident.

“Did you actually just turn down a blow job?”

He smiles, crawling between your legs and caging your head between his arms.

“What can I say, I'm a giver.”

He stops for a moment, knuckles stroking your cheek.

“You sure you wanna do this?”

Smiling gently, you reach down and grasp his solid member making him jolt, and rub the tip through your slick.

“Yes.”

You line him up and his smile turns into an open mouthed groan, eyebrows knitting together as he starts slipping inside of you.

“Eddie, holy- fuck.”

“You're OK sweetheart, doing such a good job for me.”

He pushes in further and you realise why all the foreplay was necessary. Clearly, he enjoyed it too, but you're not sure you could have taken him without it. When he's finally sitting flush inside you wince a little, hands tight on his shoulders.

“You feel incredible, so tight for me.”

Whimpering, you can feel your cheeks heat with the praise.

“God you really do like my words don't you?”

Grinning mischievously, he plants a soft kiss to your lips. It weirdly feels more intimate than him being inside you.

“Y-yeah, it's really sexy Eddie.”

His cock kicks up inside you, making you gasp a little.

“You're really sexy. The little sounds you make, your moans.”

As if demonstrating that, he pulls out a little and thrusts in gently, forcing a quivering sigh from you.

“See? Fucking perfect sweetheart.”

He begins rolling his hips into you, never pulling out too much, as if he couldn't stand to be any further apart.

One of his sinewy arms snakes its way underneath you, holding you close as he playfully nips your earlobe and breathing whispers into your ear.

“How many times?”

“Huh?” You respond, utterly lost in the feel of him dragging against your gripping walls.

“How many times do you want to come?”

You giggle, despite the situation, or maybe because of it.

“I don't usually, oh, get t-to choose, is there a- oh fuck- there a menu or something?”

He chuckles and slows down just slightly, pushing into you devastatingly deep.

“What's the most you've managed?”

He's so thick, and the feel of him is otherworldly; it had you wondering how it'd feel without the layer of latex between you.

“I can't- fuck- I can't think- like two?”

He stops, looking at you incredulously with a furrowed brow.

“Two? We can do better than that.”

He speeds up, leaning on one arm as his other hand finds its way down your torso and begins to rub your clit. That pulse inside you is sent into overdrive, mouth open and panting as you cling to his back, nails digging into his skin.

Your release swells inside, growing, and intensifying, until it suddenly pops, showering you in pleasure. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as you moan out your release an inch from his face.

“Atta girl,” Eddie says as he nudges you with his nose, “do that again.”

Your clit feels a little sore, swollen and sensitive after so much pleasure. His touch is gentle, but it's still overwhelming.

“Eddie, I-I can't, please-”

“You want me to stop? I'll stop if you want that sweetheart.”

The sharp feeling begins to dull, making way for another wave of euphoria that washes over your whole body. Legs twitching uncontrollably, you whine long and low, a flood of noises bursting from you that no damn could ever stop.

“That a no, sweetheart?”

“Don't stop don't stop don’t stop - oh!”

You'd be embarrassed by the crazy noise you made as you come again, if you were even aware of it. A screeching loud moan, eyes scrunched as your body leaves the bed and your nails drag across his bare back.

“That's it, knew you could, so good for me. Fuck, nearly lost it.”

He does stop then, biting his lip to stop himself from unleashing his own orgasm as his breath comes in short huffs.

“Eddie, you don't have to- ohmygod!”

The last of your sentence evaporates on your tongue as he hooks his arms under your legs and pushes your thighs flush to your chest. It seems even Eddie has lost the power of speech, dirty moans pouring from his mouth that rival your own.

He's so deep, impossibly deep; as if he were in your guts at this point. You've never felt so full in all your life. Your third release is almost there, a tightening string wound around you, pulling and twisting and contorting your body into a writhing sweaty shambles.

You're clenching and convulsing around his pumping length as he twitches inside you, his groans and grunts spurring you on. It's faster now, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Sweat clings to the very air, the heat in the room creating this cloying humidity that dampens each breath out, making hair stick to skin and creating loud slapping sounds of your conjunction.

Eddie's face is red with effort, teeth gritted and lips tight.

“Are you gonna come again? I can feel you. Please, sweetheart, please- fuck- I need it, I need it, come with me!”

You let go. The tight string breaks and your orgasm spreads through your very soul; it's so profound and savage that tears spill out and down your cheeks with its intensity. Eddie joins you, coming as one with a drawn out groan that borders on feral.

For a moment, you both revel in it, just panting, feeling sticky skin against skin, heartbeats slowing, muscles unwinding and relaxing.

He finally unhooks his arms from your legs and you lay them shakily on the down as he clambers off, collapsing next to you on the bed.

“You OK sweetheart?”

“Hmm.”

It's all you can reply with, a little satisfied noise. Scooting closer to him, you place your hand hesitantly on his chest.

“Hang on a sec.”

He gets up and disposes of the condom, slowly padding out the room. Returning again with another glass of water for you, he hands it over with a raise of an eyebrow. This time you take it gratefully, chugging half of it before passing it back.

A moment of panic grips your chest, followed by shame. You barely know him, yet you'd gone to his place with hardly any hesitation.

As he lays back down next to you, scooping his arm around your back, you clear your throat.

“I just, er, wanted you to know I don't usually do this.”

“Hey, it's alright. Neither do I.”

Feeling slightly less trampy, you stroke his chest with delicate fingers, wishing for the moment to last but knowing it can't.

“I don't think my legs work anymore, I think you'll have to call me a taxi.”

Eddie sits up suddenly, looking at you with anguish written all over his face.

“You're not leaving, are you?”

“Well, I don't fancy doing the walk of shame tomorrow in that outfit.”

He pouts, looking much younger than he is.

“Oh. Well, you can always borrow something to wear?”

“That's even worse!” You laugh, hitting his chest softly.

“Fine, then I'll go out in the morning and buy you something to wear.”

Staring at him wide eyed, you realise he's not joking.

“Really?”

“Sweetheart, I'd buy you a whole new wardrobe if it meant you’d stay.”

Heart beating just that little bit faster in your chest, you fight the tears that want to build up.

“I just thought, you know, well, we don't know each other that well and that you might think this was just, a thing.”

“You mean a one night thing?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

“C'mere.”

Melting into his open arms, he kisses the top of your head.

“I want you to stay. I'll take you home Monday and-”

“Eddie, tomorrow's Sunday.”

“I know.”

“Eddie, I have to work Monday. So do you!”

You laugh, trying to break free of his arms but he doesn't let up.

“Fine, I'll take you home tomorrow. Late. Then see you Monday night.”

Face hurting from smiling, you settle into the cuddle, the swell of feeling in your chest almost too much for you right now.

“Eddie I can't stay. I don't have a toothbrush.”

You say it jokingly, and he squeezes you.

“It's fine, I've got like 20 of them from work.”

“Thief.”

“I prefer to think of it as resourceful.”

Suddenly he pulls you on top of him making you squeal.

“So you gonna stay?”

“Yeah, fine I'll stay.” You try to say it in a mocking manner but your silly grin belies your rolling eyes.

“Good.”

Holding you close, Eddie breathes such a sigh of relief; a deep one, one that sounds like he's been holding in for some time. A sigh that makes you feel special.

Permanent Taglist (couple of these are assumed, if you want off let me know! Same if you want to be added sweethearts)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

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1d1195 · 5 months

Text

Dolcezza I

You know me and my need for love at first sight.

This is where I’ll keep her: Dolcezza

Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of stalking

~5.5k words

Definitely multi-part. This part is mostly from the MC perspective. The very end peeks into Harry's brain and the second part will likely pick up more onto his POV.

Hope you enjoy!

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“No, I’m totally fine, thank you,” she said into her phone.

“Are you sure?” Eleanor asked. “I can send Louis over.”

“No, no, that’s so unnecessary, El. Really. I’ll be fine.”

She could hear her best friend sigh heavily into the speaker. Eleanor was nearly a thousand miles away. She got a new job and while the benefits and everything about it were great, and would make Eleanor wildly successful, she was sadly away from her platonic soulmate. It was extremely hard to let her go. Worse, Louis would be joining her just as soon as he nailed down a new job out there.

But Louis was around for now, which was a great relief for Eleanor. Her best friend was a lot of things, but aware of how scary her situation wasn’t one of them. Louis knew he was essentially filling as best friend for the time being and he was expected to drop everything to get to her aid if Eleanor said so.

But that would only last so long.

Eleanor didn’t want to think about that right now.

She was carrying a box from her car toward the building. Her shoulder pressing her phone to her ear as best she could. Beside the building was a small little alley where her entry way to her new place resided. As much as it killed her to pay for it, she got a whole moving company to bring her furniture in already so at the rest was pretty standard. Her family, God love them, didn’t even think that she might need some help. If anything, she would have had to bribe them into helping her. Even if it was just for the furniture. If Eleanor was in town she would have helped with the boxes and other stray things she had heaped in her car.

Even with Eleanor’s presence closer, she felt alone. Eleanor had Louis and she would never fault her for that. Louis was everything she would want in a best-friend-in-law. But there was always this element of not fully having Eleanor—not like when they were in college and sharing a dorm room. It was different now. Not bad, but different. Her family was great but a little self-centered at times. Part of the problem, she dropped everything to help them whenever they asked but they rarely returned the favor. She did it all, so why would she need help?

Fortunately, moving allowed her to downsize quite a bit so her mid-sized SUV was able to hold almost all of her boxes in one trip from her storage unit to the new place. Maybe, this even helped her explain away her family’s lack of help.

But her brother was either busy working at the college dispatch center most of the weekend or playing beer pong at a frat party. Her sister was so wrapped up in her high school love life or maybe just being the princess her mom and dad made her out to be by never making her do anything of importance. Her parents were probably waiting on her hand and foot without even realizing. If not, they were probably creating some sort of computer-virus havoc on their home computer that for some reason her sister wouldn’t be able to fix. Or maybe they finally started fixing the kitchen up as they said they would for the last year waiting for their oldest to come home and fix all the little things they broke in the process.

If she thought about it too long, she would get annoyed. Her brother and sister were more than capable of helping and they just didn’t. It drove her nuts. So, at the end of it, she couldn’t bother her family for help. Because it barely felt like they could help themselves.

She was lucky because the alleyway wasn’t creepy. Not even at night. The whole street was a dream come true really. Part of her thought that despite the circumstance, this was actually a much-needed move. It was almost lucky that she found such an amazing place. Her own parking space right out front of the building, a coffee shop—a mere stone’s throw from said parking space—almost everything she needed was within walking distance. It was perfect.

Of course, the best and most wonderful selling point of all was by far that her new apartment was right above an Italian restaurant. It smelled like fresh pasta, garlic, and just the most comforting of scents. It reminded her of Sunday’s making meatballs with her dad and watching sports with her brother and sister.

When her coworker Mitch told her about the place, she thought it was too good to be true. But Mitch knew someone who worked at the restaurant. The owner, Antonio, was looking for a tenant after he informed Mitch’s friend that he was outgrowing the space. It was a generous size. But it was meant for a place to stay and keep watch over the restaurant—max two people and that was pushing it. The little place could not support Antonio, his wife, their first born, and another little one on the way. Four people was too big for this place.

But it was perfect for a girl who loved garlic bread and spaghetti who needed a new place and wouldn’t mind the smell of olive oil all hours of the day.

“How did you find this place?” Eleanor asked, her third-degree questioning tone was present in her voice.

“A friend of a coworker,” Eleanor already knew this.

“Mitch?” She clarified.

“Yes, Mom, Mitch,” she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know how you can be so blasé about all this. It’s serious!” She reminded her. “I’m not even there to protect you.”

She didn’t need to be protected. She had a restraining order. The police in the area were well aware of the situation and she was almost always at home or traveling one day a week to work. If she ran errands, it was always in public spaces. She only ever worked out at a public female-only gym. Plus, she had given Louis her location. All of it was nearly a non-issue. “I don’t even know how I got a stalker,” she muttered grumpily. The whole thing was an inconvenience. If it wasn’t for Eleanor, she probably wouldn’t have even gotten the restraining order.

“You’re too nice,” Eleanor reminded her.

She sighed, tired of the story. It had been almost a year since the creepy sensation of the guy following her had started. Eleanor had approached him on more than one occasion to get rid of him. But the whole thing seemed like a bigger deal than it needed to be. The guy was basically harmless; if not just a little bit more on the creepy side. He couldn’t take the hint that she wasn’t interested and had a hard time letting go. He kept a huge distance from her—she wasn’t even sure she knew the color of his eyes from how far away he followed her. If he was around, she hardly noticed. “Well, I’m moving to a whole new place now so it should be fine now.”

“You didn’t tell anyone else about your address change?”

“Nope, just HR,” she promised. “As far as everyone knows I’m still living in that crummy apartment.”

“Well, maybe this is a blessing that you’re out of there anyway,” Eleanor sighed, relief in her voice. “How do you like this place?”

She smiled dropping the box in the middle of the room before she closed the door and descended the staircase back to her car to grab more boxes. “El, it’s literally perfect. It’s like the apartment of my dreams.”

“How come no one at the restaurant wanted it?”

“When you come visit, we can go and ask all the questions—”

As she entered the alleyway from her apartment entrance she was pushed to the ground. The rattling of glass bottles clinked, clattered, and broke on the pavement. She already felt the bruise forming on her tailbone from landing so hard on the ground. In the process she dropped her phone, and she could hear Eleanor shouting from the speaker. “Ouch,” she muttered.

“Don’t move!” She turned to the sound of the guy in the alleyway with her—he was hurrying to his feet having also toppled to the cold, hard ground. He was wearing all black. Short sleeves even though it was a chillier fall day—showing off an array of tattoos that lined his muscular arms. His black pants had fingerprints and handprints of flour on them. There was something dark colored—probably tomato sauce—dried on the half apron around his hips. He clearly worked in the restaurant. The bag of bottles he was previously carrying ripped open and was broken on the ground. “M’so sorry, Principessa,” his voice was smooth and warm. “Antonio told me y’were moving in today. Should’ve been more careful,” he frowned grabbing her wrists without a thought and hauling her to her feet to get her off the cold ground and away from any broken glass. “M’so sorry,” he repeated making sure she was steadily on her feet. He turned her hands over inspecting them so delicately. Like she was the glass that had broken at their feet. “Are y’alright, Principessa?”

The silence coming from Eleanor on her phone was nearly deafening. She blinked a few times as she gazed at the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life. His hair was the color of melted milk chocolate and looked like it had been sculpted of the very substance into the most unfairly beautiful curls any man should have been allowed to have. His cheeks were smooth except for the stubble lining his incredibly sharp jawline. His lower lip was chapped, and she realized how close she was to face to notice such a thing. Probably from the way he was biting it with the worry that he had hurt her. But they were still very rosy—like pink wine and much like the rest of him, very, very pretty.

He picked up her phone out of the debris. Wiping it on his apron then brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh, God,” she whispered to herself, trying to process the last two minutes. Eleanor was going to lose her mind.

“Uh... m’Harry... She’s fine—I think... Are y’okay, Principessa?” His gaze turned back to her.

It felt like her heart stopped as her eyes connected with the beautiful green ones looking back at her. It was unfair someone like Harry was that pretty.

She nodded, holding her hand out for her phone. He returned it to her immediately and she cleared her throat. “I’m fine, El. Promise.”

“Principessa?!” She gasped. “Oh. My. God.”

“I’ll call you later,” she whispered feeling her face warm as Harry inspected the mess.

“M’sorry, Principessa,” he repeated for a fourth time. If he called her Principessa again though, she might fall right back on her sore tailbone. “Wasn’t expecting you t’come out the door,” he frowned. “Did y’get cut at all?” He asked, scanning her quickly from head to toe. She was dressed for moving on a cool fall day. A chunky sweatshirt, a pair of joggers, and trainers. Her hair was pulled tight to keep out of her face.

She was the furthest thing from looking like the princess that he kept calling her. “Oh...no... I’m alright,” she promised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Don’t apologize, kitten, s’entirely my fault.”

She shook her head rapidly trying to get some neural networks firing. “Really, I’m okay,” she smiled gently. “I should have watched—”

“M’serious, s’my fault,” he interrupted again.

“Harry, what’s the hold—” Antonio entered the alleyway but stopped his train of thought looking at the pair of them. “Oh, hi, tesorino,” he had called her that a lot since he spoke and met with her. “See you’ve met Harry,” he looked at the broken bag and the glass. “Did he hurt you?” He asked.

“No!” Harry glared at him, a frown adorning his pretty lips and a matching pinch between his brows. Harry looked adorable when he was angry. “I didn’t Principessa, did I?” He turned back to her looking apologetic again.

“No, I’m sincerely fine,” she promised shoving her phone into the pocket of her joggers. “I should have watched where I was—”

“No, no, tesorino,” Antonio shook his head. “It’s Harry’s fault. M’sure.” What kind of reality was this? Antonio reminded her of Louis or a much older brother—maybe even a young dad, but not like her dad. She imagined Louis saying the same kind of taunting thing to Eleanor or even herself. It was surreal. A cute guy bumped into her when she was starting fresh. It was like fate—a new start and a new guy. “I’ll get you a broom, Harry. Make sure she’s alright.”

“Yes sir,” he nodded firmly. Antonio disappeared back to the restaurant to get the broom.

“I’m really fine,” she promised.

Harry was smiling now, he bent down to get the big pieces of glass that shattered and carefully placed them on the broken plastic bag. “M’glad, Principessa,” he hummed quietly.

“Uh...” she smiled awkwardly and stepped to the side. “I should get out of the way...” she trailed off and started for the street to gather more of her stuff.

“Here,” Antonio reappeared with a broom and a new bag, passing it off to Harry. “Tesorino, are you sure you’re alright?” Antonio had an Italian accent. It made her smile and even if she was hurt, she was sure that she wouldn’t—couldn’t feel any pain because it was so comfortable being around an Italian restaurant where people worried about her.

“I’m really, truly fine,” she promised.

Harry was quick to pick up all the glass and took a few steps around the area to catch any of the broken pieces. It seemed this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was like she was glued to her spot watching Harry take the collected glass down the alleyway to one of the dumpsters. “Do you need help moving your stuff upstairs?” Antonio asked.

“Oh no, that’s alright, I’m fine—”

“Harry, help her with her stuff,” he ordered, ignoring her brush-off. “Her car is out front.”

Harry handed the broom back to his boss and hurried to the front of the building. “Hey!” She frowned and looked at Antonio. “I don’t need help—”

“Tesorino, please. S’no big deal. Harry would be happy to help.” Harry was already coming back with what she knew was a heavy box labeled ‘kitchen’ and heading for the stairs. Truthfully, she was dreading carrying that one, so she was grateful Harry was literally doing the heavy lifting for her but didn’t want him to feel like he had to. “He helped us move our stuff out already and into our new home,” he shrugged. “Come down for some lasagna for dinner,” he said heading back toward the front.

The entire interaction had left her so completely confused. Harry was beautiful and clearly a cook of some sort in the kitchen of the restaurant. Currently, he was up in her new apartment putting her box in the kitchen. Right as she came to the door to head after him, he bumped into her again, reappearing from the door so quickly, she almost fell right back to the ground. This time, Harry caught her around the waist. “M’sorry, Principessa. I don’t know why I keep getting in y’way,” he frowned.

He released her waist just as quickly as he caught her before heading back for her car. The warmth of his arm around her body lingered as she followed him. “You don’t have to help.”

“S’no problem, kitten,” he shrugged grabbing a box labeled ‘bedroom’ that she knew had an array of random things including an assortment of old CDs, a few pictures, and everything from her nightstand—including a box of condoms. Just the knowledge of knowing he was carrying them was enough to make her face warm. She frowned, hurrying to grab a box herself. “Y’don’t have any friends t’help you?” He asked over his shoulder as he made himself at home coming to stop in front of the second door in the little hall at the top of the steps. Beside her apartment was a second office for the restaurant. Antonio assured her that he was the only person who used it and at this point in time, it was mostly storage. Either way, she didn’t mind. The place was a steal and beyond helpful for her new start. Especially with Eleanor breathing down her neck worrying about her.

“I don’t like to bother people with something I can do myself,” she explained quietly while pushing the door out of the way for Harry to enter—but he waited for her to go first. A silent direction in his eyes as he stood still with the box in his hands. After an awkward pause, she went in first.

Unfortunately, she was compelled to fill the silence with more explanation. “My best friend got a new job—so she’s unavailable. She offered her boyfriend but he’s working. My other friends... no one wants to help move. You know?” She explained. But it was hard to hide the catch in her throat while she spoke. No one wanted to help her.

It was weird to have a conversation with Harry like that. It was a little personal, nothing crazy. But apparently, it divulged enough. “S’unfair, Principessa,” his voice was so gentle. “M’sure you’d help if they asked—or even if they didn’t ask.”

How on earth could some stranger possibly know that about her without so much as speaking for more than ten full minutes? There was a jolt of sadness that washed through her. But she pushed it aside and frowned at the stranger who seemed to read right through her without so much as a second glance. “They would help if I asked,” she murmured. But it felt like sand in her mouth as she said it because she knew it was a lie.

Harry didn’t harp on it though. He glanced around the empty space. “Are y’new to the city?” He asked.

“No... not really,” she shrugged. “I used to live just a couple towns over.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “D’you have a lot more?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, not really. You... you grabbed the heavy kitchen one. So, it should be easy from here on out.”

“Great,” he smiled. “I’ll get Niall, we’ll be done in half an hour.” Harry left her breathless for more than one reason. He hurried back down and stopped outside of the restaurant. She was practically running to catch up.

Dolcezza was written in cursive script above the big window showcasing the beautiful restaurant. Most Italian restaurants always seemed so darkly lit. This one looked so warm and cozy and on the brighter side. It reminded her of her grandparents’ house.

Harry pulled the door open. “Niall!” He shouted. Without waiting for whoever Niall was, Harry turned to her car to grab the next box.

Niall was a little less than half a foot shorter than Harry. His eyes were the color of the sky in the middle of June, and he had an adorable smile. “What’re you doing?” He asked Harry as he walked by with a box. “Hey tesorino,” he winked at her.

“Grab a box,” Harry nodded his head toward the open car and continued for her apartment once more.

What the heck!?

She stumbled to get a box herself and hurried to follow the two guys moving her stuff into her new place. But she had to give credit where credit was due. Harry was right. Thirty minutes, and everything in her car was now in the apartment. Niall headed back to the restaurant without a word, but Harry stayed behind. “D’you need help with anything, kitten?” He asked sweetly.

She couldn’t possibly imagine him helping her more than he already had. “N-no, thank you. That was...really helpful. I can take it from here.”

“Jus’ come grab me from downstairs if y’do think of something, kitten. Antonio won’t mind,” he promised. He smiled at her once more and looked around. His gaze stopped on the tall bookshelf. He walked toward it and looked at each side. He pulled a little bag of screws that were taped to the side and put it in plain view. “Make sure y’anchor that bookshelf before putting books on it. Don’t want it falling on you,” he mentioned kindly. She frowned. In her old place, her bookshelf was recessed into the wall. Having built the new shelf so the movers could take it the other day, she truly hadn’t thought about it. She only taped the little bag to the inside of the shelf so she knew what it belonged to when she created a junk drawer in the kitchen.

“Er... right,” she nodded—unconfidently.

Harry looked her over again, sizing her up, as if he knew she didn’t know how to do that and was too proud to ask. “I’ll come back up before dinner t’do it. D’you have a screw gun and such?”

“I can Google how to do it if I need to,” she assured him knowing that if he didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t do it. “I doubt I can put holes in the wall like that.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t worry, Principessa, I’ll tell Antonio. He won’t argue.”

“It’s really—”

“M’offering myself, kitten. S’nothing t’worry ‘bout. M’happy t’help. S’no trouble at all.”

It was jarring. That was the only way to describe it. It was as if Harry could read her thoughts and see on her face that she didn’t want to trouble someone on her behalf. “Antonio s’not kidding ‘bout lasagna either, Principessa. He’ll want y’down between five-thirty and six. Come down t’eat or he’ll make me come up here t’get you.”

“Who was that?” Eleanor asked in greeting as she answered the phone.

“Hi Eleanor, the move has been going well. I’m about to start unpacking boxes and arranging everything. How has your day been?” She answered with an eye roll.

“Shut up, tell me about the guy, principessa,” her voice was nearly hysterical. Her tone was almost mocking with the nickname Harry had bestowed upon her. It made her stomach flip to hear even Eleanor say it.

Sighing, she put her head on the counter of her new kitchen. She eyed the heavy box Harry had put there on the floor. “His name is Harry. He works at the restaurant,” she explained. “Antonio had him help me with all the boxes and stuff, his friend Niall too.”

“I don’t care about that. What does he look like?!” The pause was telling. She knew it. “Wow,” Eleanor sighed. “He is so hot, you’re speechless.”

Rolling her eyes again, she was glad Eleanor couldn’t see her cheeks burning red at the correct assumption. “He’s cute,” she managed.

“Oh puh-lease,” she gasped. “What a cute little story you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren.”

“Can you relax? I talked to him for twenty minutes and mostly about moving.”

“Mostly?!”

“Sweet Jesus,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes trying to think of the fastest way to get rid of her friend from making her crazy. “He correctly identified that I have shitty friends who wouldn’t help me move even if I had asked. He also got his friend Niall to help with the boxes in my car. And when I came back from the storage unit with a second load, they ran out in the middle of a lunch rush to help anyway.”

“You could sell movie rights,” Eleanor sighed dreamily.

She rolled her eyes. “His boss made him help.”

“His boss made him call you principessa too?”

“He called me kitten too.”

“Oh, you’re so going to marry him.”

“I have to unpack my house now.”

“What does he smell like?”

“You are insane.”

There was a knock on her door.

“Wonder who that is,” Eleanor practically sang. She glanced at the stove clock. It wasn’t even five o’clock. Not time to head down for lasagna. After the crazy afternoon she had, she wanted to make sure she didn’t give a reason to the funny cooks and owner downstairs that were helping her a reason to waste their time with her. She truly planned to head down for lasagna as they asked. But part of her thought Harry was joking about the bookshelf.

With the phone still against her ear, she pulled the door out of the way and found Harry. He was not joking. There was a screw gun at his side. “Hi Principessa,” he grinned so brightly it made a dimple in both cheeks appear. “M’gonna anchor y’bookshelf and then take y’down t’get lasagna,” he maneuvered right by her without so much as an okay.

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

“Don’t you dare let him leave,” Eleanor said to her ear, her voice was practically a sigh. She and Harry stood feet apart gazing at one another.

But it felt so bad getting help from Harry. “Well...er... if you’re really sure it’s not a bother,” she murmured.

“Not at all, Principessa,” he smiled. “Promise,” he nodded. “S’jus’ a couple minutes and then I’ll bring y’down.”

“Eleanor, I gotta go.”

“I can’t wait to give my maid of honor speech at your wedding.”

She hung up on her friend. Harry was quick. He was shifting the bookshelf away from the wall. He snagged the little package of screws taped to the side. “Can I help?” She asked tossing her phone on the couch.

“I think m’alright, principessa. Thank you,” he said kindly, like he wasn’t doing her a favor by doing this. It was quiet while he worked. At one point he did drop one of the little screws and she was quick to grab it and place it in his hand for him. “Thanks, kitten,” he hummed quietly. His expression was so concentrated as he fixed up the shelf.

It wasn’t much, honestly. She knew that. It was just a bookshelf. But it was somehow so much more. Her heart felt so out of place. Her throat felt tight with emotion bubbling to the surface. No one had ever done anything like this before. A near stranger at that. Probably because it was so much more. It was a worry about her safety which people nearly forgot—unless they were Eleanor and by extension Louis.

She turned away briefly and busied herself with pulling throw pillows from the box labeled living room. Harry hummed quietly to himself. It was soothing. For a moment she forgot about who she was and that she had moved because she had a stalker. If she was a little more vulnerable feeling, she might have cried. It wasn’t the time, but she felt like she had known Harry her whole life. But she had barely spoken more than a hundred and fifty words to him. It was feeling extremely domestic in her new place even though hardly anything was unpacked.

The whole place was one wide open room kitchen and living area. There was a little space she designated for a table for sitting at and along the front wall by the window she planned on putting her desk. There was so much she needed to do. There were three doors along the back wall of the apartment. A bathroom, a bedroom, and a little alcove where a washer and dryer resided. She was lucky the owner lived here previously as she was certain there wouldn’t be a washer and dryer otherwise and that may have deterred her from taking the place. The idea of lugging her laundry up and down the stairs to a laundromat was not something she wanted to do in her late twenties.

“Oh crap,” she frowned. Realizing her state of being at the thought of walking up and down the steps all day.

Harry paused and turned to her. “Y’okay, principessa?” He frowned as well. His eyes looked her over with worry.

“Yeah...no, I just... I have to change before I head down there,” she sighed.

Harry smiled and turned back to his task. He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Oh, y’could go like that, I think y’look beautiful,” he said sweetly.

Her heart rate took off rapidly. She could feel her cheeks warming but she knew her hair was pulled back and little pieces had frizzed and fallen from the elastic. She knew she was sweaty and there was simply no way she looked beautiful.

She snorted awkwardly. “Uh...thank you,” she cleared her throat. “But I would feel better if I changed.”

“I’ll wait outside, then,” he promised. “Jus’ finishing this last bit,” he murmured his attention focused on securing the screws perfectly.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised.

“Take y’time, principessa. M’in no rush,” he stood after finishing the final bit. He stepped back outside the apartment. God, he was nice. It had to be the fastest time she had ever gotten ready for anything. Changing out of comfy clothes and into jeans and a blouse that she would wear to her team meetings, so it didn’t look like she was wearing pajamas to work. She slipped on a pair of the first presentable ankle boots she could find a pair of in the box of shoes that was still unpacked. After she found a clip to pull her hair back in a more presentable fashion.

“Oh, wow,” Harry smiled dreamily as she stepped into the hall and locked her door. “Didn’t know y’could get any more beautiful. In less than five minutes too. M’gonna faint when y’have more than a minute,” he smiled and headed down the stairs as if he hadn’t just stolen her heart.

She was a little surprised he went down the stairs first, but she was grateful because maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell she was shaky and gripping the railing to keep her upright after Harry’s sweet compliment. But she realized it was merely so he could open the door carefully and make sure she wouldn’t bump into someone in the alleyway. Once he decided the alleyway was cleared, he gestured for her to exit first. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“For what, kitten?” He smiled as he closed the door behind him.

“Being helpful and nice. I... I’m not really used to that,” she admitted.

The grin on his face was kind. He shoved his freehand in his pocket and shrugged. “Happy t’help y’principessa,” he winked and headed for Dolcezza, surely to open the door for her first.

“Why did he name it Dolcezza?” She asked following behind him.

Harry smiled and glanced over his shoulder to wink at the pretty girl. “It means sweetness. Antonio met his wife when he was studying business, called her la mia dolcezza. He always wanted t’own a restaurant but never knew what t’name it. He knew the second he met her,” he shrugged. “S’a cute story.”

“Very sweet,” she smiled as she walked by Harry to enter the warm and homey restaurant. She was correct in her assumption that he would hold the door open for her. He chuckled at her joke.

There was something about the girl he literally bumped into and proceeded to fall for instantly physically and emotionally. He wasn’t lying when he said it was compulsive to help her. The warmth he felt inspecting her hands for injury and the worry he felt when she didn’t seem sure of anchoring her bookshelf. The thought that she was just above the restaurant that he nearly lived at more than his own place was comforting. A tug on his heart he didn’t know where it came from but couldn’t help it. Harry had never felt such an emotion like this for someone he had just met. It was like he had known her his whole life and he hadn’t spent more than an hour in total speaking to her. But he wanted to spend forever talking to her now that he had a glimpse of someone so beautiful and gentle.

It took every bit of inner strength for Harry to refrain from telling her he would name every child, every restaurant, anything he could name, he would dedicate to her.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #dolcezza

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thesporkidentity · 9 months

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here's another instance of the daily dracula format displaying things differently from the original ordering of the novel. by moving sister agatha's letter up to when it was written rather than when it was received, it really emphasizes the fact that the night dracula first attacks lucy is the same night that jonathan regains coherence.

is it just coincidence and jonathan's brain fever ended naturally? was it an unnatural illness caused by his defiance of dracula and simple time and distance allowed it to break? did dracula's obsession with a new long-term victim (as opposed to the splurge on the demeter) take his attention away enough for jonathan to free his mind? or was it something about mina locking eyes with dracula across the graveyard for the first time that broke the compulsion?

i dunno, but i like the way that putting those two entries in conversation with each other side by side invites the question of connection more readily.

#dracula #dracula daily

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utilitycaster · 4 months

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How Funny is it for Chetney to Die on the Next Long Rest: 3x81

look folks I've given the breakdown trackers a go but while they sometimes work, they're really more an Endgame Nein vibe, to be brought out on special occasions. But I've wanted to have something similar and so, see above.

Getting this out of the way: it's always going to be fucking funny. It's going to be sad! It's also going to be funny. Tragedy is the salt of comedy and vice versa. We can acknowledge that. This is about how fucking ridiculous it will be. As such we are moving to a Sam Reich in Make Some Noise vibes-based system, to the chagrin of people who are trying to win something. Let's start:

Hilarity Considerations:

They will be on Ruidus. This is terribly inconvenient. This is the root of all comedy, as British people and everyone in a sitcom B-plot can attest.

Ashton is the only strong person in the party other than Chetney, and Percy is back at base camp, giving us the potential for us at two Taliesin Characters having to deal with the corpses of two Travis Characters in this campaign.

I'm sure there's some kind of werewolf lore joke in here that, should he die on the moon, I will put in effort to make.

Technically I think he has been made the most famous toymaker already though it might be contingent on bringing the piece back so if it's the former everyone's going to suddenly be like OH MY GOD CHETNEY POCK O'PEA DIED? and the funeral is going to be fucking lit.

Funeral on the moon, or Mooneral.

Hey Orym! deal's null and void! That's fun!

Hilarity Complications:

who the FUCK is Travis going to play in this scenario. My vote is a Ruidusborn who broke out of the compulsion. Recovering Vanguard cultist or something.

If he doesn't get his end of the bargain that is a little sad; died before he could become immortal in the way that matters.

Matt is incredibly good at rolling with the punches but personally if he was like UHHHHHHHHHH BREAK I would NOT blame him.

Bells Hells coming back with a different person and a dead body is going to be a WILD time given that the base camp war council is already kind of side-eyeing them.

I don't mind if we don't explore Chet's backstory; the reveal was enough to provide the shading and nuance. However it would be nice if the party had enough info to try to find any nieces and nephews or similarly ancient siblings.

TRAVIS DO YOU HAVE A PERCY OR VAX-ESQUE DEATH LETTER YOU FUCKING BETTER.

Forecast: 1% chance of Chetney Death; A Bloody Bridge Too Far level of hilarity.

#critical role #chetney death hilarity meter #a thing i shall try to do now #chetney pock o'pea #cr spoilers

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xythlia · 4 months

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— FALSE LIFE ˎˊ˗

› ascended astarion x f! spawn tav

› word count : 2k+

› sorry but his ascended lines do something to me >.< & I finally felt brave enough to post this after my 200+ game hours (also im open to astarion requests btw :3)

warnings : mdni. compulsion. noncon elements. posessive behavior. angst ish. fingering. toxic relationship. reader has hair long enough to brush off shoulders. reader wears a revealing dress. pet names (dear, darling, little love, ect.). oral f receiving. he calls you dinner sorry lol

This is the first time he's ever done this, compelled you.

If heat could still pool beneath your skin, anger more akin to molten lava beneath the surface, surely it would have. He broke his promise to you, the small thread of security that allowed you to go along with becoming a spawn. You also want to weep, wish tears could well freely in your eyes and track down your cheeks.

But even that is denied to you. Instead you're rooted to the spot, the marble flooring devoid of any echoing footsteps and the air hanging thick with frightening anticipation.

You can't reflexively jump when his lithe fingers move your hair from your shoulders, brushing your own equally icy skin. Much of your body is routinely on display for the vampire ascendant, something else you've always swallowed your displeasure on. There is also the absence of a gasp as his hand grips the back of your neck, an odd pantomime of a mother cat carrying its kitten by the scruff.

"Tell me," he asked, "do I not give you a life of constant pleasure?"

The words slip from your mouth unbidden. "Yes."

"Haven't I made sure you want for nothing?"

Again. "Yes."

His grip tightens, forcing your head to the side a bit and you wish you could wince.

"Then why, my little love, are you so insistent on acting like an ungrateful brat?" He spits out the question, forcing you to meet his ruby gaze by turning your head himself. You've never felt more doll-like, a petulant child.

"You compelled me. Forbade me from going outside the palace bounds. It upsets me that I cannot see our friends and companions. It upsets me that you broke your promise." Your affect couldn't be flatter, a dizzying contrast to how much pain you truly felt inside, a cruel effect of compulsion.

The dining room is quiet, thick with tension as he seemingly takes in your reasoning in silence.

The laughter that bursts from his lips is harsh, not because it's forced or hollow, but because it's real, legitimate laughter. He releases you to cross his arms, chortling so much tears well in his eyes. It makes something absolutely hideous twist in your gut, watching his display as if your feelings were nothing but the realms crassest joke.

All the while you stand statuesque, frozen and seething as your lover mocks you.

"Don't be stupid, darling. You're mine, remember?" Astarion caressed your jaw, positioning himself front and center in all your senses. "Your future has been mine to decide the moment that little worm was ousted from our heads."

Your eyes catch the scar on the side of his neck, bite marks like a twin to your own. Something else inside you is dying, a slow march, and soon the Crimson Palace will be more like your mausoleum than your home.

"Yes."

"Good," he pauses, seemingly sizing you up for reasons unclear, "Sit back. On the tabletop, darling."

Your movements are automatic, body and mind completely untethered from one another in terms of control. An anxiety grips your mind, sharp fingers digging into your brain and you perch on the vast, ornate table.

"Mhm, you know, I didn't get to finish my meal since you decided to spoil dinner with your silent sulking." His smile is a wicked thing. "But I do think we should move on to dessert now anyway."

One hand slides up the revealing slit of your dress, icily fondling your flesh and slowly inching upwards before his fingers are brushing along the seam of your underwear. All you can do is remain frozen, legs spread, as if you were a plaything for him to pose and contort any way he pleased. You suppose that's all you might be now.

"How about an... even trade, of sorts? In exchange for forgiving this little trespass with no punishment, you agree not to question my decisions."

Its not fair, the answer isn't truly your own. "A deal, yes."

A contented sigh leaves him as his index finger rubs up and down your clothed cunt, but his eyes are sharp and you know it's not lost on him how damp your underwear is. When he grins again those fangs are on full display, exaggerated by the shadows cast from the flickering candlelight.

It breaks your heart that he's as beautiful as ever, that still the baser parts of you can't help but desire him.

His plush lips find yours with comfortable familiarity, the perfect genius of their synched movement a testament to how much time he's spent mapping your mouth, committing it to memory. As you slip your arms around his neck you realize the compulsion is gone, but desire keeps you rooted in place, enjoying the feeling of his wandering, groping hands.

Forcing yourself to forget for selfish pleasure is surprisingly easy, a skill you've cultivated the past few months.

You gasp into his mouth as his fingers slip past your underwear, swiping through your wetness before lazily circling your already aching clit. The stimulation makes your hips jerk, chasing his hand for more friction but his other presses firmly against your hip to keep you still.

"Don't be gluttonous dear. I'm the one who didn't get to finish my dinner." He whispers against your parted lips, trailing sloppy open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, the exposed tops of your breasts, until he's sunk to his knees in front of you.

As he lifts the skirt of your dress you lay back against the heavy polished oak table, and if your heart could race it would be galloping out of your chest in anticipation. Thankfully Astarion doesn't keep you waiting long, he was true to his word that there was no punishment this time as he pulled down your underwear and trailed chaste kisses from your calf, your thighs, all the way to your soaked cunt as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"My delicious little treat," he murmured, his breath fanning across your skin, making you clench around nothing right before he placed a kiss to your clit.

The smallest of moans escaped you and it was enough to encourage him, tongue swiping through your arousal as his fingers prodded at your entrance. When he sucked against your clit your back arched off the table and every noise became amplified: the way you were panting, the slick slurping sounds of his mouth working against you, the squelching as two fingers slid inside you to start scissoring against your spongy walls. The cacophony was enough to make your head spin as your hands flailed downward, looking to grasp any part of him you could reach.

Grasping at his alabaster hair you cry out his name, with the same reverence one would use to call out to a god, and it only spurs him on. He groans against you as your hips start to rise, chasing the stimulation from his tongue and feeling the first embers of climax catching in your abdomen.

"Please -" tears slip down your cheeks as his fingers increase their pace, his tongue devouring you ceaselessly and you nearly choked on your own cries as your thigh muscles tense impossibly tight.

Your legs shake against his shoulders as your fingers scrape against his scalp, the embers now transformed into a roaring pyre, burning you from the inside out as the edges of your mind start to peel from the internal heat and pressure. You squirm recklessly, mouth hung open in a silent cry as your upper half rises off the table.

Slowly you lay back, struggling to control your muscle tremors and with one final kiss to your throbbing clit, that makes you yelp, Astarion pulls back, draping your skirt back in place and slipping your underwear in his pocket.

"You see, I can be quite forgiving darling. Just don't push it in the future."

#꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ kita writes #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate smut #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #ascended astarion x reader #ascended astarion smut #bg3 smut

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ladamedemartel · 8 months

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hc + sand

send me ‘ hc ‘ + a word and i’ll write a headcanon about it regarding my character

Marseilles was always a fairly active port, and Aurora liked to hear stories from merchants and travelers about different lands. When Aurora was very young, there was one traveler who told her that different lands had different colors of sand and the next time he returned to the port of Marseilles, he brought her back jars of different sands from different beaches.

#the first time that aurora saw a beach with different colored sand after the compulsion broke aurora remembered the merchant #and she probably had a melt down #so there's that #;;headcanons

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nicksbestie · 2 months

Note

I have an angsty (self-indulgent) req…

I struggle heavily with superstition and pattern-based compulsions, and I was curious if I could get a Jake or Johnnie fic where one of them sees the reader getting stuck in a harmful pattern (trying to match pain from scratches on both arms, knocking on their head for good luck, trying to avoid cracks/lines on the sidewalk, etc.)

-🫠

Summary : You struggle a lot with your compulsions and mental health, but your boyfriend is always there to make sure that you can relax.

Pairing : Jake Webber/Reader (romantic)

Warnings : Harmful pattern based actions, superstitious behaviors

Word Count : 718

A/N : i've never written anything like this req, so i really hope i did it justice! if i didn't please give me constructive criticism! my inbox and dms are open if you ever need to chat <3

Superstitious and compulsion based behaviors were a lot to deal with, and you knew that better than anyone in your personal life. You had struggled with them really badly for a long time, and it had damaged a lot of your life. You considered yourself very lucky sometimes, though, because you had a lot more support now than you did in the past, and the support system that you did have was absolutely amazing. You had two amazing best friends, one of whom was your boyfriend, and having dealt with struggles in his life, he was always so incredibly kind with you.

He was always patient, gentle, much softer than he was on camera, and you appreciated his tenderness so much. You couldn’t have imagined a better life partner than the man that you were with right now, and you truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. Having been with him for upwards of a year now, he was able to recognize when you were beginning to struggle, and always able to gently calm you down, keeping you comfortable and feeling safe. He was perfect, and was always there when you needed him, like today.

Today you were having such a difficult day, many different things bothering you and being just uncomfortable enough to cause you to become frustrated. You managed to hold it together until the evening, when you were laying down with Jake, and you automatically felt a little bit better because of the fact that you were with your boyfriend, who was your safe space and comfort person, but you were still not quite calmed down. Jake was rubbing your arms with his, you wrapped up against him, and he had no idea that he was going to unintentionally cause a near breakdown within the next couple of minutes.

It wasn’t for another few moments before one of his nails caught the perfect angle to end up scratching your arm, causing you to gasp in pain and surprise, and him to immediately panic and apologize. He kissed right over the spot that he had accidentally created, attempting to soothe it. However, with how worked up you had been from your long day, this was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Jake’s heart broke when he realized there were tears forming in your eyes. He immediately wiped them away, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, hoping on everything that you would be okay.

He hugged you tighter, whispering soft comforts while his hand was gently running up and down your arm, trying to massage the feeling of pain away, but all he was doing was making you aware of how uneven your arms felt, and he had no idea that he was making it worse until you had teardrops rolling down your face, trying to resist the urge to scratch your other arm, making it match the same pain so you could relax again. He wiped those tears away immediately as well, pressing a kiss on nearly every spot on your face, hoping to get a smile to break onto your face.

Unfortunately, after a couple more minutes of those, you couldn’t take it anymore, and ripped out of his grasp, using your own nails to run down your other arm, tears steadily flowing. He immediately grabbed your hands, pulling you close into his chest and firmly but not harshly keeping your hands away from your arm, holding you as you gave up in his hold, sobbing.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re going to be okay. It’s okay, honey, it’s okay…”

He knew you probably weren’t processing a lot of what he was saying, so he simply repeated the same words of comfort, keeping you close to him and making sure you were wrapped up tightly in his arms, pressing kisses to the top of your head. The pressure was helping you relax and was also keeping you from hurting yourself, and he stayed like that until you stopped crying, wiping your tears away with his thumbs, holding you until you eventually exhausted yourself. He was the boyfriend who could easily pick you up, helping you to bed, and holding you until you fell asleep in his arms. You knew you struggled, but you also knew that he would always be here for you.

~ taglist : @jake-and-johnnies-slut @gvf23 @maddytheweird @707xn @elliem505 @ilydeaky @maryx2xx @oobleoob @aemrsy @jasperthefriendlyghostt

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

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keysorsomething · 6 months

Text

The Shape

2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Just a little fluff fic I wrote a couple days ago :) I compulsively check the Nikto tag so maybe I can make someone else who does that happy! And it mighttt have a pt. 2 in the works ! Also sorry if the format is weird I was never a tumblr girl

Cross-posted on Ao3

Nikto was hardly a man. Hardly a person. Hardly alive. He was just a shape. Just a thing. All he did was kill who he was told to. But, you didn’t think that. You didn’t believe that. He was a person to you. And you treated him as one.

You didn’t force anything. You didn’t push, pull, twist. You let him do what he wanted. He wasn't sure why. For as long as he could remember, where the memories of childhood - memories before him - become fuzzy, he was never treated like that. No one asked his opinion. Even if it was for something simple, like what was for dinner.

You were always so gentle with him. It was almost nauseating. With you, it was always “Aw, hey, Nikto! How are you?” or “What's the word for that in Russian?” He didn't understand it. You were not friends. He did not reciprocate your politeness. Maybe that was just normal where you're from. But, his current running theory was that you must have some form of brain damage. Perhaps you were dropped as a baby.

He stood in the doorway of the armory, head slowly leaning to the side as he studied you. His bright blue eyes broke through the dim lighting as if they were backlit by two LED bulbs in his skull.

You sigh. You really weren't in the mood for it at the moment. You've had a really sucky day and were just trying to clean your gun before you put it up for the night. His gaze burning through your skin as he studies you like a zoo animal is not what you need at the moment. But, you know him enough. You’ve learned a few things from your interactions with him. You know asking nicely, or even demanding won't do much for him in this state. He doesn't mean anything by it - at least you're pretty sure it's just harmless curiosity. Still, you just aren't in the headspace for it. So you have to shoo him off. And luckily, you know just how. You place your gun on the table, rising up.

He doesn't back away as you approach, instead turning his head more. Slowly, you reach out. He’ll snap out of it if you move to touch him. He'll jump back, then growl and stalk off. You're sure of it, that's how it is anytime anyone tries to touch him.

So when the tips of your fingers meet his chest plate, you're the one to flinch. His eyes look wider from under the mask, but he doesn't move or even open his mouth to speak. He simply blinks at you, one eye closing and then the other. Like a frog.

Okay, he's staying when you touch him. That is completely out of the ordinary. Maybe you could weird him out enough for him to leave you be..? You raise your eyes to meet his, and something about the way they shine down on you is… unusual. You can't tell if he's staring at you affectionately, or with the look of a girl in a horror movie that stumbled upon a dead body. Or perhaps both.

Still, you swallow down your confusion, any reservations you have, and shame. Slowly, while maintaining as intense eye contact as you can, you drag two fingers down his chest, like petting a stingray at an aquarium. Before you go lower than his peck, you pick your fingers up and place them back at the top - where his chestplate covers his neck.

He blinks again, looming over you, his shoulders are squared. He's clearly tense. He'll back away soon. You repeat the action several times over, becoming more confused and frustrated the more he doesn't back away. Eventually, his hand raises, and he places two of his fingers on the squishy part of your neck, where it meets your chest. Your breath hitches, fear creeping into the back of your mind that he was trying to kill you.

Slowly, and with a lot more pressure than you were doing on him, he drags his fingers down your chest. He was mimicking you. You tense up, watching as he drags his finger down your chest before circling back to start at the top of your neck again. His hand is almost suffocating, even if he’s only putting two fingers on your neck. And you’re sure he could put so much more weight into it. He could snap your neck, pin you to the wall and strangle you. He’d probably cock his head to the side as he did it. Like fucking Micheal Meyers.

You shiver, closing your eyes. But the violence never comes. He’s very gentle with you, as gentle as a man of his… caliber in his profession can be. He does take his other hand to yours, dragging your hand down and circling back up. He was trying to get you to do it again. You crack your eye open, meeting his piercing blue stare, like hot water down the back of your shirt.

Slowly, you start to move your hand again. You stand there for a moment, your fingers starting at the peak of his neck guard and sliding down his chest as he mimics you. You look at his eyes, as he looks at yours. It was a strange, somber moment between the two of you. You watch his shoulders fall, relaxing under your touch and gaze. He's breathing heavily, like someone hyperventilating after being jumped out at. Your own hands are shaking, still unsure if this is a vulnerable moment or a trap. And his hand is going to flatten against your neck. And then it was going to be lights out. You swallow thickly, but you don't move your eyes from his. His pupils keep dilating and constricting, which you're not too sure is healthy. You hope this doesn't kill him.

All at once, he pulls away. His hand from your neck, his neck from your hand. His eyes narrow at you. He holds his hand at his chest as if it were covered in some form of filth. He looks down at it like it betrayed him before his eyes turn back to you.

“Спасибо,” He growls out before his dark form melts into the shadows of KorTac base after dark. Once more just a shape, he stalks off, leaving you standing in the doorway of the armory, shock running through your body. His footsteps fade into nothing as he leaves you all alone, frozen in shock.

You just touched him. He just touched you. And then he thanked you? You stare off into the dark, now bare walls. They are an uncomforting grey. You look down at your own hand, turning it over in your sight. You... pet Nikto. On the chest. With two fingers. Like a stingray, in the pet pool at the fucking Aquarium of the Pacific.

…How do you even process the moment you just had? Would you ever have another one? Was that a one-time thing, or would he creep to you at night like this, for the most barebones form of touch like that? You close your fingers, rubbing them against each other, before you turned around, slipping back into the armory to put your gun up. Still in some odd trance, eyes distant and foggy as you focus on the various thoughts floating through your head. You don't know if you can call it a fantasy.

But, that doesn't mean the thoughts are unpleasant.

#nikto cod #nikto x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw2019 #mw2 #call of duty #kortac

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kittievampire · 1 year

Note

Could you maybe make a short fic of M/C plus yandere (preferably, Mammon) where at first it's non-consensual, but as the time goes on she gets manipulated into thinking it's all for love? I also think he should baby-trap her and do all kinds of shit to force her to stay with him.

Oh, my darling, of course!

I've been dabbling in the yandere smut side of the Obey Me fandom and HOLY SHIT it's INTENSE

Especially for my first love, Mammon-sama, I'll do anything for my sweet greedy boy 🥺🥺🥺

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Mine

Warnings: Dark Themes, Slight Gore (if you squint), Violence, Murder, Manipulation, Obsession, Yandere! Mammon x Reader, Dom! Mammon x Sub! Reader, Virgin! Reader, Cursing, Panty Stealing, Masturbation, Smut, Breeding Kink, Teasing, Baby-Trapping, Creampie, Reader gets gagged, Mating press, Non-Con/Rape to Dub-Con

🚨READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY TAGS🚨

Enjoy.

Honestly, he couldn't tell you when it all started.

Probably when you'd first gotten here and he was told that he would be responsible for taking care of you. Yes, that sounds right.

It was then that these emotions started. These feelings toward you, the compulsive need to be by your side at every waking hour of the day. Hell, you'd have to kick him out of your room most nights just to get some privacy.

You were just so perfect.

Something about the way you spoke, the way you handled things, the way you carried yourself. He couldn't help but love all of it. All of you. He'd memorized every little thing you'd shared with him throughout the time you'd been in the Devildom, noticing whenever you cut your hair by even an inch or the slightest shift in your attitude to know when you were upset.

And when you were upset, he always needed to know why.

So he could get rid of your problem, of course.

If you were upset with one of his brothers, he'd go speak with them about it (as long as it's not Lucifer), if you were upset over failing to comprehend something mathematical, he'd explain it to you in five different ways to try and help, and if you were upset with someone the two of you don't consider close friends, he'd console you.

There was this one time, however, when consoling you wasn't enough. Not for him, at least. The first time these thoughts became more aggressive and obsessive. The first time he became truly dangerous.

Mammon narrowed his eyes at you, pulling his shades off so he could see you properly. "He did what?" He asked. It was more like he was demanding you to repeat what you said.

You hesitated for a moment before clasping your hands together and smiling. "He broke my D.D.D. and cursed me out for being a human." You sighed, shaking your head in disappointment. "It's alright, though. I'll ask Lucifer if I can get a replacement."

Mammon really only paid attention to the first sentence. He bit down on the arms of the shades in his hand and scoffed. "See, this is why ya should just keep someone around. As the Great Mammon, I shouldn't be botherin' myself with taking care of ya." He extended his hand, holding out an index finger so you couldn't interrupt him. "But, because ya really need it, I'll go ahead and be your personal bodyguard or whatever." He huffed out, a light blush forming on his cheeks.

You furrowed your brows. "Oh, thanks, Mammon, but I really don't want to bother you with this kind of thing. I really don't need 24-hour protection, I just really wish people like him would learn from their mistakes."

Oh, you were so forgiving. He couldn't help the way his heart pounded against his chest at the way you spoke so kindly about the bastard who broke your property.

He should kill him.

Mammon flinched, dropping his shades and freezing in place at the idea.

Something you need to know about Mammon is that he's not really a violent guy. Of course, he acts like a relatively tough guy, and his title as the second strongest sin in the Devildom wasn't just given to him because the king was feeling generous. He just never resorted to violence immediately, it wasn't the Mammon Way.

Now, though, there was another factor to account for in this equation of his.

You.

While his title made demons fear him enough to where he didn't need to act on any of his anger, he found it very difficult to stop his knuckles from twitching whenever he saw someone you as much as complained about.

However, he'd never thought about murder. At least, not so seriously. This was different. The image that appeared in his head was the demon you were talking about, chained to the back of his car by the neck, and being dragged all around the Devildom. Then, he'd kill him slowly. Maybe set him on fire, too. Yes, that sounded nice.

"Mammon!" You called out, snapping him away from his thoughts. You tilted your head. "Are you okay? You kinda blanked out there." You ask, placing a hand on his cheek to get him to look at you.

Mammon flinches at your touch, a dark blush forming on his cheeks. "O-Oi! I'm alright, human, now get your hand off'a me!" He gently grasped your wrist, shuddering in delight at the feeling of holding you.

You raised a brow, pulling your hand away. "If you say so... Well, Asmodeus wanted me to help him out in Majolish, so I'll head over there. You have a make-up class, don't you?" You ask playfully. Mammon scoffed. "Oh, come on! Ya don't gotta rub it in, MC. Ya jerk." You laughed a little. "That's what you get for skipping classes. I'll see you later, Mammoney."

He was there.

The bastard was there.

Mammon was a few seats away from the guy you were talking about earlier. The guy who broke your property and made you upset. He wasn't paying attention to the lecture, no, he was watching the demon. Staring. Glaring.

The scene that presented itself to him before, among many others, appeared in his head. Many of them were at the same levels of gruesome. The thought of getting rid of someone for you was a little nerve-wracking but satisfying nonetheless. It felt right.

After all, he was no longer an angel. And this was a lower demon, a being of impurity. That means that whatever happens to him down here, he deserves it, right?

This is what Mammon tried telling himself when he dragged the large black bag all the way to his room. The only one who saw him was Beelzebub, but the Avatar of Gluttony was busy with takeout, so he didn't really take the time to try and understand the situation.

Mammon was a little relieved that you weren't home to see this. At the same time, though, he did want you to know that he was looking out for you. You should be grateful that the Mammon is so adamant about protecting you!

"Say, ya think she might actually say yes if I ask her out? I dunno if I wanna do it now, but, I mean... Ah, who am I kiddin'? I'll wait a little while longer. It's too soon, don't ya think?" He asked, making another clean cut to the demon's torso.

The demon had stopped thrashing hours ago. There was blood everywhere, but the Avatar of Greed wasn't sloppy, so he'd placed a cheap mat underneath the chair that his classmate was tied to, planning to throw it away later. Even so, he became irritated when he got no response.

"Oi, I'm tryin' to ask for some serious advice. Ain't ya a demon? Why are ya dyin' so fuckin' quick, huh?" He seethed, glaring up at the lifeless expression that the demon before him adopted. He sliced an exposed arterie and scoffed. "Pathetic. I dunno why I bothered asking shit from a bastard like you anyway."

He refers to that kill as his "first slip."

Mammon had multiple "slips" after that, all of which he convinced himself were for your sake. Demons were going missing left and right. Of course, you didn't notice, because you were so naive. So oblivious. So cute.

You would never suspect Mammon to be the culprit, right? He was your sweet Mammoney. He'd do anything to keep it that way.

While he was growing to love you, more than he healthily should, he still couldn't build up the courage to talk to you. Confess to you.

You'd better believe he tried though.

The first time he did after he'd taken up his new "hobby" was during passing period at RAD. He had you caged between the wall and his chest, both hands on the wall to stop you from leaving. "Hey, human. I gotta tell you something really important, okay?"

Mammon had made up his mind to tell you then and there. However, now that he was right in front of you, now that he could see the way your expression seemed to glow in his presence, the way it made his heart beat so rapidly, he just... couldn't! "What's up?" You ask dumbly after a few moments of silence. He bit his lip for a moment before sighing. "Uh... Actually, I'll tell ya later. I just remembered I had to go do... Something, I'll cya around, MC." Then, he scurried, leaving you standing there all dumbfounded.

Curse his lack of bravery!

You were just so perfect, he couldn't bare the thought of you rejecting him.

His thoughts were swarming his brain. Thoughts of you. He would think often about how your hands would feel caressing his cheek. How soft your lips would feel against his. How tight your pussy would feel around his cock.

That last bit was, by far, the most popular thought in his head. He'd think about it when he had his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking and bucking his hips into his fist.

He'd imagine you underneath him, moaning and writhing while getting pounded into. The thought of you in such a fucked out state was just so delicious. He wanted you. No, he needed you.

But he still couldn't muster up the courage to tell you how he felt. So, he just settled for the next best thing.

Your panties.

When it was his turn to do laundry for the House of Lamentation's residents, he found a pair of white panties stained at the crotch. He lifted them up a bit closer for inspection and caught a whiff of the scent the pair of panties was emitting.

Your scent, your juices.

Your cum.

It was your cum.

Immediately, he felt himself hunch forward, clutching the nearly drenched panties in his fist as he slammed the door to the laundry room shut. He took a moment to process, a dark blush dusting his face as he held your panties in his shaking hand.

Mammon swallowed the lump of saliva he felt pooling in his mouth, staring at the crotch of your underwear, feeling his pants becoming a little too tight. "Fuck," He muttered out, quickly moving to undo his belt, sloppily pushing down his pants below his crotch, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his cock. Immediately, he started pumping himself, desperation evident when he started to buck his hips into his hand.

He caught another wiff of your scent and groaned, hunching over as he pressed his back against the wall. "MC," He moaned out, loving the way your name sounded rolling off of his tongue. He imagined you calling his name as well.

Whining and writhing underneath him as he pushed your legs apart.

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck." He slammed his fist against the door, keeping his glazed eyes on your underwear. He imagined entering you. Your warmth would welcome him inside of your pussy and your walls would clench.

If only he had your warmth around him.

Flinching, his gaze shifted over to the clenched fist that was pressing against the door, your white panties being squeezed in his grip. He moved his hand, adjusting the pair of panties so the crotch was easily accessible, pushing it against the tip of his cock.

Mammon hissed when he felt your juices push against him, shuddering at the feeling. You must've put your dirty laundry basket in the laundry room the same day you masturbated. It was still relatively warm, and that was enough to make him imagine how your pussy would feel.

Wrapping your wet panties around his cock, he started bucking his hips, grinding himself against the crotch. He let out small pants and groans at the feeling, his hips beginning to stutter as he felt a knot begin to tighten in his lower stomach.

So good, so good.

He closed his hazy eyes, imagining how you'd start to squirm beneath him as he pounded into you, whining and crying out that you were close to an orgasm. "MC, fuck, baby, you're so fucking good for me," He hissed out. His hips never stopped bucking into your panties. Precum started oozing out of the tip of his cock, and he was smearing it against your underwear. "All mine," He murmured out softly.

The second-born clenched his teeth as his hand gripped the door knob, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten even more. The warmth that your panties provided, the visual in his head, and the sound that he'd imagine you'd made when you came; a mix between a whimper and a moan. It was enough to make his eyes go wide, a stuttered groan escaping his lips as he hunched forward a little.

Thick white ropes shot out of the tip of his cock, landing ontop of the juices that had already stained your panties. He inhaled sharply, covering his mouth as if to save whatever dignity he had left.

Slowly coming down from his high, Mammon panted heavily into his palm, a cheeks red, and vision still blurry from his orgasm. It made him wonder how hard he'd cum if you were there. If it was you wrapped around his cock instead of your panties.

But he'd take what he can get, he wasn't too picky when it came to you.

That's why he started stealing your panties, among other things. When your underwear wasn't enough, small trinkets and pieces of jewelry would go missing, only to be replaced by the Avatar of Greed himself. He loved to see the smile on your face as you looked at him, he loved to hear you thank him for gifting you such things.

You were so cute.

Too cute for your own good.

You mean so much to him. Too much for him to let you go.

He doesn't want you to leave. Ever.

Your eyes were always something he admired. He loved staring and getting lost in your gaze, trying to determine exactly which shade of which color painted your irises. He especially loved it when both of you got lost in the others' gaze. Inevitably, one of you would blush and look away.

What he hated was the way you looked at him right now.

Fear was present in your eyes. Tears started to gather on your lower lash line as your bottom lip trembled. "Mammon?"

Normally, he loved it when you said his name. It was like music to his ears, sweet like honey. However, this time, he flinched at the hesitation in your voice.

Of course, he couldn't blame you for being scared.

You'd been waiting in his room, unbeknownst to the white-haired demon, and he walked into his room covered in blood. That, and the horror that was the bloody bags you found in his closet.

His movements were quick. In the blink of an eye, he stood before you, slamming the door shut. He towered over you, the almost-dried blood that had been splattered all over his body was now right in your face. Leather black wings lifted and caged you into the corner by the closet, the leather on his body, as well as his horns becoming more apparent the more you took in his figure. "Ain't anyone taught ya not to go snoopin' around in other people's shit?"

You flinched at his tone. He seemed angry. That's when a tear fell. "Mammon, what the hell was that?" You ask, voice trembling along with your body. The demon before you was in no better state. He was panicking on the inside, trying desperately to form an explanation in his head. This caused him to stare intensely at you, eyes bloodshot, bat-like wings flapping gently beside you.

"S'just some of the trash that bothered ya, Treasure." Mammon's voice shifted from frightening to sweet, a huge contrast to his bloodied and demonic appearance. The new nickname made you shiver. Under other circumstances, you would've loved the fact that he'd given you a nickname, but you were too terrified. The nickname sounded so wrong to you. So twisted. "Most of them either acted out of line around ya, but some actually thought they had a chance!" He smiled, letting out a huff of amusement. "As if those lesser demons had the right to even look in your direction." He took a step forward, and you took a step back, your back now pressed against the wall.

This made Mammon frown a bit, bat wings flapping in slight irritation and confusion. "Why're ya backin' away from me, Treasure? I thought that... I thought that you'd be happy to know that they're gone," One hand pressed against the wall behind you while the other made it's way to your hip. "Aren't ya happy that they're not in our way anymore?" He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear.

"Our?" You repeated. "What are you talking about our, Mammon?" He sighed, the hand on your hip traveling down to caress your thigh. "Us, Treasure. Our relationship, our love."

You closed your eyes tightly when he leaned in, lips brushing against your cheek as his voice dropped in volume. "Don't you love me, MC?" He asked softly, feigning an almost hurt voice.

You allowed a few more tears to fall as you pressed your palms against his chest. While it was true, you did love him very deeply, you just couldn't condone this. You weren't okay with this! Killing people for someone else isn't love!

Right?

"Mammon, you can't... You don't do this kind of thing for love," You said, hands trembling against him. His hand moved from the wall to grasp yours, clenching your fingers tight as he let a shiver run down his spine. He let out a deep sigh in bliss, feeling his cock twitch in his pants from your touch. "MC, Treasure, I love ya. I love ya so much." He then gripped your wrist, pushing your hand downward.

You flinched when your hand reached the bulge in his pants, fingers gently tracing the outline of his cock. "Baby, look at what ya do to me." He softly breathed out, turning your hand to push your palm against his hard on, his other hand gripping your thigh as he started bucking his hips into your hand. "MC, I love ya. I just wanted to make ya feel better," He looked down at you, the hand squeezing your thigh being used to lift up your chin so your eyes could meet his. "I got rid of the trash that was botherin' ya, babe."

You shook your head, trying to pull your hand away from his pants. Mammon's grip only tightened, an odd feeling beginning to pool in your gut. "Mammon, this isn't how you- Mmh!" He cut you off, leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss. Your lips were so soft, he couldn't hold back the moan that escaped him as he started moving his lips against yours. His teeth started nibbling your bottom lip to ask for entry. When you tried to pull away from him, he let out a scoff, the hand that was on your chin moving to slap your thigh.

You opened your mouth to let out a gasp, only for Mammon's tongue to invade your mouth. He bucked his hips into your hand once more, his tongue exploring your mouth and burning your taste into his memory.

He moved his hands, pulling away from the heated kiss so his lust-filled eyes could meet yours. "That's right... I guess I should be showin' ya how much ya mean to me in other ways, huh?"

Mammon had pushed you onto his bed, climbing on top of you and capturing your lips in another hot kiss as he started to tug your clothes off. He was truly a being of pure greed, he couldn't get enough of you. He wanted more. And he wanted more now.

You pulled away as soon as you felt your breasts come into contact with the rather chilly air and threw your arms over your chest. "Mammon, wait, please! I don't want this!" You whimpered, tears beginning to stain your cheeks.

Mammon leaned in, one hand hooking around your skirt as he kissed you on the forehead. "But you love me, don't you, MC? I'll treat ya right, I promise." He brought a hand up to gently grasp your wrist, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "I love ya so much, MC. Everything I do's for you, Treasure. The way I feel about ya, it makes me do crazy things," He murmured softly against your hand. "Please don't deny me."

His tone of voice made you think that maybe he was telling the truth, that maybe he did love you deeply, and that was why he went so far. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

No!

You snapped out of your hazy love-drunk mindset, realizing that the now-dried blood was still splattered all over him. It was someone else's blood. Maybe they were innocent! Well, they weren't if they were down here, but still! They didn't do anything to warrant such acts of violence.

With a swift motion, he yanked down your RAD skirt and panties, eyes shifting down to catch a glimpse of you. You tried to close your legs, but Mammon had managed to catch both of your plush thighs in his grip, pulling them apart and closer to him. Your ass was now on his lap, and your pussy was closer to his waist. He smiled at you, almost tauntingly. "None of that, baby," He pulled you closer to him, your pussy now a few mere inches from his face. Mammon took in the sweet aroma you gave off, letting out a deep sigh in bliss. This was so much better than your panties.

Suddenly, the pact mark on the back of your hand glowed a bright yellow. "Mammon, sto-"

He was faster.

Before you could finish your command, Mammon had torn a piece of fabric from your teal RAD under-blouse, pushing it against your lips to silence you. "Naughty girl." His voice dropped an octave as he glared at you. You had practically been folding in half with how close your knees were to your shoulders. The Avatar of Greed then adjusted the fabric in your mouth, pulling on the sides and tying it in a tight knot around your mouth. "I didn't want to gag ya, sweetheart," He cooed, shifting himself into his former position: where your pussy was a few inches from his mouth and your thighs were in his hands. "But ya just had to be such a brat. Playin' hard to get can get annoyin', ya know that?" His tongue lulled out of his mouth. He maintained eye contact with you as he lowered his face, dipping his tongue into your sopping heat and tracing the line of your slit. You moaned into the makeshift gag, arms trembling as one hand gripped the sheets, the other reaching behind your head to try and untie the gag.

Mammon flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves that rested above your slit, smiling at the way you squirmed and whined. You knew this was wrong. He was a demon, and you were okay with that, but now you found out that he was a killer as well? No, you couldn't be okay with this. You shouldn't be okay with this.

But it feels so good.

You threw your head back and let out a muffled cry as his mouth latched on to your opening, thrusting his tongue into your heat. Your walls clenched around his tongue, and he let out a moan in response. He wondered how tight you'd be around his cock if you were this tight around his tongue. It made him think that perhaps you hadn't had anything inside of this pretty little hole of yours.

Wait.

Mammon pulled away from your pussy, a mix of his saliva and your juices dribbling down his chin. "MC, are you a virgin?" He asked softly, gold and blue eyes piercing through yours.

You looked up at him through tear-filled eyes and nodded your head slowly. The sound of wings flapping rapidly filled your ears, which made your eyes screw shut.

He'd be the first to touch you, the first to defile you. He was your first demon, now he'll truly be your first man. "Oh, Treasure." He lowered your body almost completely onto the bed, and your eyes shot wide open when you heard him fumbling with his belt.

You looked down to see his cock, flushed and hard, resting on top of your crotch.

He was huge.

Where he sat between your legs, his cock reached just above your navel. "M'sorry," He said softly, grasping his cock and stroking it a few times. "I can't wait any longer, Treasure. I have to have you before anyone else can."

You froze for a moment, realizing what he meant. You should've shaken your head or done something to deny him, to stop him.

But you didn't want to stop. You wanted to keep going. You wanted him to ravish your pussy, love you until he withers away. You pushed your head against the pillow, lifting your hands to grip the sheets beside your head, and spreading your legs open a little more.

"That's my girl," He cooed, pressing the blunt tip of his cock against your hole. You closed your eyes once more, trying to concentrate on breathing as he pushed himself into you. He was slow and sweet, pressing kisses to your neck. "Calm down, Treasure, I don't wanna hurt ya." His voice, so soft, so sweet, made you forget completely about why you were so against this at first.

Mammon grunted at how tight you were, his eyes glazed over. He was trying so hard to hold himself back. You were just so fucking tight. He let out a shaky breath, one hand going down to caress your thigh. "Loosen up, Doll," He cooed once more, clenching his teeth. He was so close to bottoming out, but your hole continued to deny him.

Tears had fallen down your face, staining your cheeks and the fabric that gagged you. You were in an entire different state of mind. The stretch hurt, but knowing that it was Mammon stretching out your cunt made your body feel more at ease.

When he shoved the last few inches of his cock inside of you, you couldn't hold back the muffled wail that escaped your throat. Finally, he was sheathed inside of you. His balls were rested against your plush thighs, and his tip pushed against your cervix.

"Fuck!" Mammon grunted out, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Your chest rose and fell as your breathing quickened. You tried so hard to focus on breathing, focus on calming down so it'd be less uncomfortable for you.

Mammon stilled, and you took that as a sign of him waiting for you to signal him to move. He wanted to take off the gag and hear your beautiful moans, but he couldn't risk you using your pact to stop him. He couldn't risk losing the chance to share his love with you.

While he was in his own head, he failed to notice your squirms and whines, replacing the pleas that you'd let out if you weren't gagged. However, his lack of movement made you impatient, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding the tip of his cock against your the spot that made you see stars. Mammon's breathing hitched, immediately gripping your hips with his hands and looking up at you with a shocked expression.

Then, the surprised look turned into a smug one. "Just can't get enough'a me, can ya?" He teased, dragging his hips backward. You could feel him moving and thought he was pulling out of you. You were about to whine in protest, but you got the air knocked out of your lungs as he slammed into you, his cock pushing roughly against that same exact spot. He started thrusting into you, looking down at your pussy to see how well it swallows his cock, as well as how much of your juices can be seen (and heard). "You're like a waterfall down there, MC. I knew ya loved me, I knew it! All those demons weren't a waste of time after all!" He exclaimed excitedly, picking up the pace to align with the hype of his voice.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt him repeatedly pound into you, balls slapping against the plush of your thighs at his deep and quick thrusts. "So good! So good for me, baby," He threw his head back, letting out a groan as he felt you squeezing the hell out of his length.

Suddenly, he pulled the fabric from your lips so it rested around your neck. "Mammon!" You cried out immediately. He only grunted in response and grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing them up toward you so your knees were inches from your shoulders. "Fuck, Treasure, so— mMmh!— T-Tight!" He huffed out, mind feeling a bit hazy.

All he could think of was you. How much he loved you, how much he wanted to be with you. He wanted so badly for you to love him too. Now that he had you, now that he deflowered you, the Avatar of Greed couldn't stop there. He wanted more. And, in his sin, will he indulge.

If he got you pregnant, you wouldn't leave. You'd be attached to him no matter what.

The thought made his cock twitch and his hips stutter for a moment before regaining a rhythm, albeit faster than the one he'd adopted prior.

"M'gonna make sure—" He adjusted your legs in his grip— "You never even think 'bout leavin' me!" Mammon growled out, feeling the familiar knot in his lower abdomen beginning to form. By the way your walls were clenching so tightly around him, he could tell that you were almost at your peak too. "Gonna make you a mama," He purred out, rocking his hips into yours.

Your eyes widened at this, gripping the sheets even harder as you cried out. "Mammon! P-Pull o-out!" Your whimpers fell upon deaf ears. That, or ears that only heard what they wanted to. "You wanna have my baby, MC? Hm?" He asked, voice as sweet as vanilla, thrusts as sharp and hard as a blade. "Can't wait to—" He hissed as your walls constricted around him once more— "See the look on their faces! When they see you," Mammon chuckled darkly at the thought, greed, love, and obsession overwhelming his senses. "They'll see that you're all mine! I'll kill whoever gets in the way or disagrees! You're mine, MC!" One final thrust to that sweet spot of yours and you cum hard with a cry of his name, legs trembling in his grip.

Mammon couldn't stop. He couldn't stop going until he filled you up, painted your walls with his seed, and permanently intertwined your fates. "Mine! Mine, mine, mine! All mine! Only mine!" He growled out, burying himself deep into the warmth of your cunt and spilling his seed inside of you. He let out a lewd groan, rocking his hips gently to ride out his orgasm as much as possible.

Once the both of you came down from your highs, he pulled out of you, pressing small kisses to your tear-stained face. He lowered your legs to put you in a more comfortable position, wings and horns fading away as he pulled you flush to his chest.

In your exhausted state, you weren't able to think properly. "I t-told you... To... What if I... Get..." You muttered out, eyelids feeling heavy.

Mammon pressed a soft and warm kiss to your lips, one filled with love and care. "Shhh, sleep, Treasure. Ya did so good for me."

Maybe it was the way his words were sweet and stuck to you like honey. Maybe it was the way that he expressed so many times during this exchange that he truly did love you.

Whatever it was, there wasn't a doubt in your mind that the Avatar of Greed wanted you out of everything else in the world. Every valuable item, every treasure to be found, all he'd be willing to give up just for you.

He'd give for you, but he'd also take for you.

The lives of the demons he'd taken so far couldn't be ignored. At least, you shouldn't have ignored it. But he did it all for you. All because he just wanted you to notice him, to love him, and only him.

Eventually, you'd become accustomed to the blood on his clothes, the protectiveness, the obsession with keeping you close to him even though you never planned on leaving.

You didn't need anything else. You didn't want anything else.

All you needed was your first man.

This was fun to write, I hope you greedy-boi lovers enjoyed this!

My friend looked at the tags over my shoulder and said "Why are you like this?"

Thanks for requesting, I hope you enjoyed this, anon!

#obey me mc #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me yandere #obey me yandere mammon #obey me swd #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x you #mammon obey me #obey me mammon smut #mammon smut #yandere mammon

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captainsophiestark · 7 months

Text

The 60s

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 9 Prompt: "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Summary: Klaus wiped the memory of the love of his life after hundreds of years together to try to protect them from Mikael. Now, however, his ex has their memories back is going to find their boyfriend. Even if he is in someone else's body.

Word Count: 2,215

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I was going to kill Klaus Mikaelson.

Unlike the other thousand people who'd probably had that thought in the last week alone, however, mine was actually justified. For hundreds of years, Nik and I had been together, happy, and in love. We'd wandered the world together, side by side, having each other's backs through thick and thin. Out of everyone in the entire world, I was the only one he'd always trusted, completely, without a doubt in mind.

And then Mikael had shown up one time too many.

Nik and I had faced him a few times, and he had firmly held the spot of 'my least favorite Original' for literal centuries. We'd always come out shaken, but fine, until about a hundred and fifty years ago. That time, he'd gotten Nik cornered, so I'd jumped in to save him. Mikael had almost killed me instead.

We'd managed to both make it out alive, thankfully, but Nik had been foaming at the mouth with nerves and fear. I'd tried to calm him down, but it hadn't worked. He'd gotten too scared, so for the first time in our entire relationship, he broke my trust. He compelled me to forget him, and to go somewhere else, far away, where I'd never be put in danger by him and his family again.

It had worked, unfortunately for me. Until recently, when something had happened to break the compulsion and bring my memories back. At first, I'd been terrified that it meant Nik had died. But, after a little investigating and compelling of my own, I realized he'd been body-hopping with the help of witches. Something about it must've shaken his compulsion loose, and allowed me to remember.

It hadn't taken me long to track him down to Mystic Falls, Virginia. I couldn't help being a little proud of myself for finding him so quickly; it helped that I knew him well. I'd arrived in Virginia last night, and managed to track down Nik's exact location and hiding place just as quickly. He'd apparently taken over the body of a history teacher at the local high school. Who would I have been to miss that opportunity?

With a little more compulsion, I'd convinced the front office staff to let me into the teacher's history class. I found a seat to one side of the classroom, then settled in to wait for Nik to show up. I almost blew my cover when, a moment later, the spitting image of Katherine Pierce walked through the door.

I knew he'd come to town for the doppelgänger, but it was still surprising to see someone who looked just like Katherine. Apparently, that lie we'd planted about the Curse of the Sun and the Moon had been working out pretty well. She sat on the other side of the room from me, flirting with another vampire and sitting with her witch friend. I sighed, already ready to leave the classroom, when Nik finally walked in.

The teacher, Alaric Saltzman, was tall, with brown hair, and dressed in something I could almost see Nik wearing normally. He strode through the open door with a "hello class" and went right to his desk like it was any other day. I snorted.

"What... are we learning today?" he mused, flipping through his history book. He hadn't looked up once; hadn't had a chance to see me yet.

"With the decade dance tonight we've been covering the sixties all week," a girl in the front chimed in. Nik looked up.

"Right. The sixties."

For the first time, he turned, and I thought his eyes might finally find me. Instead, they found the doppelgänger—Elena—like a heat-seeking missile.

Understandable, since we didn't think she existed. But still annoying.

He glanced from her to the open classroom door, then turned to the board. I huffed a sigh and rolled my eyes. What was he gonna do, just grab her and run? Much too obvious for his style, and we both knew it.

"The uh... the sixties," he started, mentioning the decade for the third time now as he turned around to write the same words on the board. "...I wish there was something good I could say about the sixties."

I covered a snort with my elbow. I almost raised my hand to say something like "Maybe they would've been better if you'd still had me with you", but that was also too sloppy for my style. Too many students asking questions, seeing me, and too many enemies possibly getting hints about Nik.

"They actually kind of sucked," Nik continued. "Except for the Beatles, of course, they made it bearable."

His eyes strayed to Elena's witch friend, and my heart squeezed in my chest. Nik was recounting memories that didn't include me, when I should've appeared in almost all of them. The hurt was only semi-manageable because I wasn't looking at the love of my life's face while hearing this, too.

"Uh, what else was there? The Cuban Missile... thing. The uh... we walked on the moon, that was, uh... Watergate."

"Watergate was the seventies, Ric," Elena chimed in with a fond smile. "Uh, I mean, Mr. Saltzman."

"Right," Nik continued, a familiar edge to an unfamiliar smile. His eyes never strayed from Elena. "It all kind of... mushes together up here. Sixties, seventies. Thank you, Elena."

I watched him teach the rest of the class in a way that could only be described as 'playing with his food'. He said Elena's name another time or two, savoring it in a way I recognized as him relishing in victory. I was happy to see him happy, but the added side effect of him being so wrapped up in doppelgänger nonsense meant that he still hadn't noticed me.

I tried not to let it get to me. Especially since it had given me the best opening I could've asked for to scare the daylights out of Nik and get just a little bit of payback.

Once the bell rang, I stood and hovered at the edge of the classroom. Nik dismissed everyone and said goodbye to the class, saying a special, specific goodbye to Elena and watching her leave. It wouldn't have been terribly obvious to anyone with no reason to suspect 'Alaric' was not who he said he was, but it was ridiculous to me.

Nik moved to the door to look out into the hallway as the classroom emptied of every single student except for me. He watched Elena go, his back to what he thought was an empty classroom, giving me exactly the opening I wanted. I crossed the room quickly but quietly, using all of my vampire skills to keep him from noticing me until I was right next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said, right into Nik's ear. He'd jumped and spun around at the first word, but now stood frozen, his mouth open in shock as he stared at me. I grinned. "You know, whatever you were planning to do to the doppelgänger. At school. In a human body. While she's surrounded by supernaturals. That's just a bad idea."

"Y/N..." he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. Then, he surged forward, wrapping me tight in his arms and spinning me around in a hug. He moved backwards into the classroom, and I slammed the door with my heel just to avoid any prying eyes.

Nik finally pulled back, eyes wide and a vague smile on his face, like he was happy but didn't actually believe this was real. I smiled back at him, even though he didn't quite look like my Nik, and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

"How... how is this possible?" he asked, his voice still quiet, like any loud noise might shatter the moment. "How are you here?"

"I still don't totally know. But I think, when you moved into this... teacher body... it was enough for your compulsion on me to break."

Nik's face fell immediately, as it should have. I frowned, the immediate happiness of finding Nik having worn off.

"I can't believe you did that to me, Nik," I said, taking a step back from him. "It was supposed to be the two of us, through everything. Against everything. No matter what. How could you betray that?"

He gave a frown of pain, taking a half step towards me before thinking better of it.

"You don't understand. My... Mikael... almost killed you. If I'd been the cause of your death-"

"Okay, first of all, you would never be the cause of my death. You know how I know? Because you would never kill me." I stared at Nik long and hard, and although he looked away from my gaze quickly, I never did. "Second, the only person who would've been the cause of my death was Mikael. You are not responsible for a bad person trying to kill me."

"Unless that bad person is trying to kill you to get to me." He said it quietly but firmly, looking up at me with a rueful smile from lowered lashes, like he'd just said some checkmate truth we'd both been avoiding. I put a hand on my hip and glared.

"Actually Nik, no, it's still not your fault. It's the bad person's fault. That's it. And before you start telling me it's your fault for dragging me into it or whatever, I could've left. I didn't want to, and I still don't want to. I've seen every level of crazy your life has to offer, and I'm signing up for all of it.

"And Nik, before you try to tell me how much you'd miss me if you lost me, you did lose me! By letting fear drive you to compel me out of your life. And I also lost you. I guess I've been generally content for the past hundred and fifty years, but I've never been totally satisfied. Because something is missing. I've known total and complete happiness, and it's whenever I'm with you. This immortal life isn't worth living without you, Nik. Don't try to tell me it is."

He stared at me for a few long moments, then pulled me to him again. Unlike the first hug, this time our feet stayed planted firmly on the ground, wrapped tight in the strong hold of each other's embrace. I sighed as Nik rested his head against mine, moving his mouth right next to my ear.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have done that to you. I was just... terrified at the thought of losing you."

"I know. But Nik, we're nothing if we're not together. I need you to promise me you won't do that again. The two of us, side by side, for eternity. That's it, alright?"

He pulled away, hands holding my arms tight as he stared me straight in the eye.

"I give you my word."

Slowly, a smile spread across my face, a new warmth growing in my chest. Not once, in hundreds of years, had Nik ever broken his word to me. We were going to be okay.

He grinned back at me once he noticed my smile, then leaned in to kiss me. I stopped him, jerking back a bit, and he gave me a concerned look.

"I love you, and I am so happy to see you again, but I'm not kissing you until you're back in your own body. I have no interest in kissing this rando you've possessed."

Nik grinned, and although it wasn't his body or his smile, I swear it looked exactly like it was supposed to.

"Fair enough. I don't think I want you kissing this 'rando' either. What do you say we get out of here, and do what needs to be done so I can get back into my body, break my curse, and kiss you properly?"

"...Not in that order, right?"

"No, not in that order."

"Then deal."

Nik smiled and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as we headed towards the door together. I had no idea what the next part of his plan was, but once I was caught up to speed, I knew we'd be putting it into action shoulder to shoulder again, and all would be right with the world.

"You know, you're a shit teacher," I mused as we headed off into the high school together. Nik shot me a look as he kept leading me towards whatever destination he had in mind.

"Do you remember much interesting information to teach children about the sixties?"

I shrugged. "No. But I could probably fake it better than you. Watergate."

"I was in Australia, Watergate was a low priority."

"I was in Greenland, so... checkmate."

He just shook his head, a smile finding its way onto his face all the same. I was the only one in the world Nik trusted endlessly, the only one who could find him in a matter of days no matter where he was in the world, and the only one who could get away with giving him shit with absolutely no repercussions. And now that I had him and my memories back, I was never letting him go.

****************

TVD/TO Masterlist: @elenavampire21

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