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cissyenthusiast010155 · 9 months

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What do you think about a threesome with lady lesso and lady dimitrescu🤭🤭🤭😫

Yes yes yessss. This one is Larissa xLady Dimitrescu. Lady Lesso and Lady Dimitrescu to come… 😏This is a collar with @scream-queenlover !!! I thoroughly enjoyed working together on this with you, love 💞💞💞 One Alrissa xReader threesome Coming up… ♥️

Fabulous Night to Remember ~Larissa Weems xAlcina Dimitrescu (Alrissa) xFem Server!Younger!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, implied age gap (all legal), threesome, smut, sex, implied face riding, shapeshifted dick, fingering, ass grinding, pussy grinding, p in v, double entrance fucking, blindfolds, body adoration, begging, teasing, edging, kissing, marking, praise, praise kink, biting kink, begging kink, implied bondage kink, marking kink, blindfold kink, ma’am/sir kink, pet names, daddy kink, pet kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

Three years. It had been three years now. Three years ago, Larissa had met the love of her life. Alcina. And two years ago, Alcina had asked Larissa to marry her. It was a fever dream.

But it was all very real. For their anniversary, the two had picked a restaurant known for their wine, as both women had a sweet tooth for a glass of red. Larissa had to work that day, and so she and Alcina had agreed to meet up at the restaurant at 6. Alcina pulled up to the restaurant and saw that Larissa’s car was already there.

Of course, the blonde was already here…

Alcina chuckled to herself as she got out of her vehicle and entered the restaurant. She was used to the stares, hell, so was Larissa. And so both women just ignored it. Alcina found Larissa already sitting and looking at the menu. As Alcina’s eye caught the distinguished, blonde’s, Larissa set down the menu and smiled lovingly towards her wife.

“Good evening, why is such a pretty lady sitting all alone in such a fine restaurant?” Alcina flirtatiously said to the blonde.

The blonde gave the tall, handsome woman a teasing look, but played along with her, feigning innocence.

“May I join you?” She said with a smirk.

The blonde put on an innocent face “ I shouldn’t do that.. you know I am married and if my wife were to find out…”

They both shared some laughter after their cringy and flirty exchange, and Alcina took a seat at the table, facing her wife and taking the menu in her hand, studying it intensely

~~~

You scanned the restaurant and the tables you were responsible for this evening. You had brought a tall, blonde lady to Table 7 with two menus, and she had stated that she was waiting for her wife and if you could come back when she arrived. You nodded politely, agreeing pleasantly with the statuesque woman. You went back to the bar where some drinks for your other tables were waiting for you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander back to table 7 every now and again…

The blonde was absolutely stunning and she had already caught your eye when she entered the restaurant 10 minutes ago. She was tall, beautiful and elegant, you assumed she must be in her early to mid 40s. Her British accent sent you almost to your knees. You had a weak spot for older, more mature women and when they had an accent, it just was the cherry on the top. When she mentioned she had a wife, your mind absolutely lost it and went straight to the gutter.

~~~

“Good Evening, my name is Y/N, and I will be serving you tonight.”

You blushed slightly at your own choice of words, and the raven haired woman’s smile was simply ever so entrancing. Snapping back to reality, you took both women’s orders. They were starting with a bottle of sparkling water and a bottle of Chianti. You nodded as you jotted their order down and left them to run over the menu. You gave them a fluttering glance as you entered in their drink orders, blushing once more at their ethereal beauty as the two were passionately in discussion.

~~~

“Darling…? You wouldn’t happen to fancy that pretty, little waitress, would you…?” Larissa presumptuously purred, pretending to eye her menu while actually fluttering her gaze to and fro Alcina.

Alcina was more than happy to play along.

“Dearest Wife…! I’m simply stunned that you would ever suggest such a thing!” She exclaimed in a hushed tone, feigning surprise and disappointment.

At this, both women chuckled.

“Besides, I’m not the one who called her ‘pretty’, am I…?” Alcina teased the blonde, eliciting a light blush from Larissa.

The two women began having a deeper conversation about their time together and their lives before each other. You brought over their drinks, setting them on the table, flipping their glasses over, opening their bottle of water, and then pouring them both a glass of the red wine. You did all of this with two pairs of watchful eyes on you, which only made your hands shaky and your face blooming a darker red. Both women had forgone their menus and conversation, happily taking their glasses of red from the pretty, little waitress.

You then took out your notepad to take their orders, but the blonde reached out and lightly grasped up your wrist, stopping you. You looked at the woman in awe and shock. She was touching you. You wanted more. Her touch was so soft yet so direct.

“I… Ma’am…?” You choked out, your cheeks blushing a deep fusia.

“We’re not quite ready to order yet, Darling…” The blonde purred, her eyelids batting at you playfully and her glimmering blue eyes staring you down with intensity.

“I— No problem…” you stuttered, your eyes fluttering over to the other woman, who was watching the show intently and with a smirk on her face, “I can… come back in… in a few minutes…”

Then the blonde let you out of her light yet direct hold. The trance broke.

“Wonderful, thank you, Darling…” she purred.

You gulped and nodded, walking away completely stunned and at a loss for words. Both women turned their attention back to their menus.

“My ‘Rissa, Don’t you think it’s a little cruel to be messing with the poor girl…?” Alcina chuckled.

“Oh Alcina… I love you dearly, but it’s not cruel, when she is practically begging us to… Watch her actions. The way she stumbles over her words, the way she blushes, the way she responds like such a good girl…” Larissa teasingly hums.

“Careful… Don’t get ahead of yourself there, Dearest…” Alcina purrs.

“What? Are you telling me you are not interested in the girl, Darling…?” Larissa challenged, putting down her menu as she had now chosen what she wanted.

Alcina finally looked up from her menu to meet the blondes gaze.

“Of course I am…” she admits with a light chuckle, also having decided on her meal putting her menu down.

~~~

You were standing at the bar, cashing up your last table that just asked you to pay. You made your way to said table, letting the guests know what they had to pay, they left a generous tip and thanked you for your great service. You sincerely thanked them and turned around to go back to the bar, when you noticed the blonde and ravened hair couple signaling you that they were ready to order. You slowly walked up to their table.

“I assume you two have decided..” your voice was trembling slightly which wasn’t unnoticed by the two goddesses sitting in front of you.

“Oh yes Darling, we are very sorry to have kept you waiting. Your menu is just so extraordinary that it is too hard to decide. I think we both agreed on a Main course but is there anything you can suggest us for an appetizer?“ The blonde woman spoke.

Me… I would just suggest you take Me…

You shook yourself, trying to tame your thoughts.

“Well.. I.. I mean.. I would suggest the Baked Brie Platter with Assortments. It will compliment your wine perfectly…” your eyes were glued to the table, you were afraid if you looked into their eyes too long, they could read your dirty thoughts that were poisoning your professionalism.

You felt the two pairs of eyes wandering over your body as you waited for their final order. “Mhhm.. that sounds perfect Dear, you certainly know your wines don’t you…” the raven haired goddess spoke.

“Thank you ma’am.. I’m just here to please..” you could’ve slapped yourself again for the choice of words, making your face burn with heat again.

Both women had the biggest smirks on their faces which you saw in the corner of your eyes.

“Oh I am sure that you will serve us well” the taller woman commented, and with that sentence you felt a hand on the back of your thigh pulling you a bit closer to the table.

“If you don’t want this darling, let us know now and we will stop and nothing else will happen…” the woman assured you.

You felt a deep trust radiating from her and the only thing you felt you could do was nod.

“Sweet girl, we will need you to use your words…” the blonde woman softly demanded.

“I will let you know if I feel uncomfortable.” you breathed out.

That was the first time tonight that your voice seemed strong and confident. The hand on your thigh started to caress your leg and you dared to look up finally. Your eyes were met with the most shimmering, yellowest eyes you have ever seen, they intrigued you. As quickly as her hand was on your thigh, the quicker she took it away, leaving you squirming on the spot.

You took the rest of the order, the blonde woman ordered a Beef Wellington and the dark haired woman ordered Steak done Bleu. You made your way back to the bar, where you tried to comprehend what just happened.

Once at the bar you tried to get a hold of yourself and the situation you had gotten yourself into now. You had a strange feeling in your gut... excitement mixed with nervousness mixed with… you couldn’t quite wrap your head around it... you had no idea who those women were, no name, age or anything... but somehow you trusted them and you felt safe.

You tried to get your mind clear by focusing back at work, waiting tables, cleaning off and setting the table for new guests. You heard the familiar ping of the kitchen's bell, that the food was ready to be served and you went to the kitchen window to pick up the orders. A Beef Wellington and a Steak done Bleu... suddenly the feeling got back paired with something new... arousal... you could feel it build up in your abdomen, you could feel it pooling in your knickers... you were aroused and somehow you knew that this would not get better… no it would get wetter… the stupid pun left you grinning like an idiot, and so you tried to compose yourself. So you grabbed the two plates and made your way to table 7. On your way to the table it suddenly hit you, you forgot who ordered which Main. When you arrived both women had their eyes glued on you again.

“Beef Wellington.” you said, trying to seem professional… emphasis on trying...

“Oh Dear… Don’t tell us you forgot who ordered that... Did you forget…?” The dark haired woman mockingly said.

“I... I... well…” you stuttered, as you tried to clear your throat.

“You seem distracted… Y/N.”

You’d never heard your name being said so seductively…

“Tell us, Darling, what is going on in that pretty head of yours?”

It was just too much… the teasing, the names and the compliment...

You let out the smallest whimper… No one else in the restaurant would have noticed but the two women in front were clearly aware of what just came out of your mouth.

“What a pretty sound... I wonder what else we could get out of her... what do you think Rissa, my dear?”

“I think… we are going to have so much fun with her darling.” The blonde affirmed. “I ordered the Beef Wellington sweetheart. We don’t want to distract you more from your work, so please continue.”

You set the plates in front of the women and you couldn’t help yourself just to leave back to the bar and tell your colleague that you needed a 5 minute break. You went into the Staff bathroom and looked at yourself… your pupils were blown out, your face had a deep blush and you were sweating. You tried to calm your nerves with some cold water you splashed on your face and dried it off.

~~~

Larissa and Alcina both chuckled while watching you almost running away from their table.

“The poor girl, she has no idea…” Larissa chuckled, smiling at her wife.

“She seems so innocent… It's just so much fun to play with her.” Alcina claimed with a devilish grin on her lips.

“Are we sure about this?” making sure her wife is comfortable with everything that might be happening.

“Alci, I think she is perfect...” the blonde hummed.

Alcina’s smile widened and she leant over the table to give her wife a passionate kiss. They both raised their glasses and cheered the night away. When they settled their glasses, both of the women started eating their respective meals and continued with a bit more casual dining conversation.

~~~

You brought the two stunning, tall women another round of drinks, and as the night went on, the blush on your face only got darker. By the end of the night, all of your tables were cleared except that of the two women. They were having a good time, savoring the last bits of their wine, having finished their meals. All you had to do was give the women their check, process their form of payment, and then you were done for the night.

“I’m sorry, but the restaurant is closing in a few minutes…” you whimpered, placing the check on their table.

Both women stopped drinking their wine, and their gazes fluttered to you.This time it was the blonde who placed her hand on your arm. Your breath hitched.

“No worries, Darling. In fact… We were wondering if you’d like to come home with us for the night…?” She purred.

Your heart race tripled and your eyes frantically fluttered from one tall woman to the other.

“I…” you tried to speak, but your throat was hoarse and choked up, so you nodded instead.

“Use your words…” the raven haired goddess hummed wickedly.

You felt the blondes hand begin to wander teasingly.

“I— Yes! Yes please…” you stuttered with a flushed red face.

The poised, blonde then removed her touch, leaving you craving only more.

“Excellent. We’ll meet you out front in 10 minutes?”

“Yes…” you whimpered.

~~~

You left their table, scurrying to do your closing duties, and then clock out. You change out of your uniform and exited the restaurant with bated breath, only to be met by the two stunning women, having hailed a cab and waiting for you with shimmering eyes and smirking smiles. The blonde got in the cab first, and then the raven haired woman lended you a hand into getting in next, before getting in after you and closing the door. The woman gave the cab driver the address of the couples shared mansion in the mountains outside of Jericho, and the three of you were off. The little contact alone made you shiver, but now you were thigh to thigh with both giant goddesses. The blonde placed her hand right in the middle of your thigh, squeezing lightly.

“I’m Larissa by the way, Darling…” she purred.

You shuddered at the close proximity, how you could practically feel her breath on your neck. You then felt the other woman hand on your other thigh, hers much higher up.

“And I’m Alcina…” the woman on your right wickedly cooed.

You nodded breathlessly, clenching your thighs mindlessly. You blushed as Larissa’s fingers teasingly drew circles on your thigh, while Alcinas fingers edged closer and closer to your core. They were driving you crazy, and they knew it. You wanted to say something, anything. But not a single coherent sentence managed to come out of your mouth. Fuck, they had made you so needy and desperate. It was embarrassing honestly…

At one point, Alcina’s wicked fingers started to draw your thighs apart. You whimpered slightly, but embraced the touch and happily opened your legs as much as possible, so that your thighs were flush against either side of the woman.

Your eyes widened and you audibly gasped as you felt the blonde’s hot mouth nipping at your ear. Your face flushed darker than you would ever think possible, and your head instinctually swiveled to meet Larissa’s gaze. Her passionate, intent eyes met your needy and desperate ones. Her gaze flickered down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. All the while, Alcina is was still relentlessly teasing your thighs, getting closer and closer to your core.

“I’d like to kiss you, Darling. Would that be alright?” Larissa gently purred.

You gulped and nodded eagerly. The blonde cocked an eyebrow at you.

“I… yes please I’m sorry— yes…!” You stammered.

Larissa hummed in delight at your response. She closed the gap, her lips connecting to yours in a slow, direct, and passionate kiss. She tasted like fine wine, fresh mint, and oaky wood. A breathy moan escaped your throat which Larissa’s lips happily swallowed with a hum. Alcina’s fingers finally grazed your clothed core, causing you to buck your hips, leaning forward, desperate for more contact, causing both women to chuckle wickedly and pull back all together. You whimpered at the complete loss of touch.

Suddenly, you felt the raven haired goddess’s fingers, directing your chin to swivel to meet her gaze. But before she could say anything, you lunged forward, crashing your lips into hers. Alcina happily met your passion in a fiery, lustful kiss. Her lips tasted like bloody wine, musky rosemary, and tangent iron. But she also pulled away, this time with a wicked smirk on her face, leaving you a needy, whimpering, desperate, thigh clenching mess.

~~~

Once you had arrived, the women led you to the front gates of a cozy mansion, perfectly hidden in the mountains of Vermont. Your breath fled, as they guided you through the front gates, the courtyard, and up the front steps of their home. And the inside… it was marvelous… Your jaw dropped at the whole ambiance of the place. Larissa took your hand, squeezing it lightly, and bringing you back to reality.

“In here, Love.” She purred, leading you into their bedroom.

Alcina locked the door behind the three of you. And now both women stood tall, towering above you, as you backed up and hit the edge of their massive bed. Your eyes frantically looked from one woman to the other once more. You whimpered as their gazes raked up and down your frame. You were their prey. You had been from the very moment they set their eyes on you.

“You’re so cute, Baby…” Alcina wickedly cooed, cocking her head to the side slightly in amusement.

Both women came closer to you.

“But you’re going to have to use your words, sweet girl…” Larissa tauntingly purred.

Your breath hitched. Your knickers were completely soaked through. You were dripping. They were now both flush up against you, their lips each grazing one of your ears.

“Do you want me to fill your needy hole…?” Alcina wickedly cooed.

“Maybe I’ll ride your face until all you can think about is me…?” Larissa tauntingly purred.

“Is that what you want…?” The raven haired woman taunted.

You gulped and nodded vigorously.

“Then be a good girl for us and beg…” the blonde lustfully purred.

Good girl... Oh how those words made your legs tremble and sent your thoughts right back into the gutter.

“Please... U…use me…” you stammered, your hands starting to shake.

You weren’t exactly innocent when it came to sex, but you hadn’t ever had a threesome, nor had you ever encountered a single woman as gorgeous and intimidating as the two in front of you right now. Larissa noticed the small tremor in your hands.

“Oh Baby, do we make you nervous…?” she purred, while taking your hands into hers.

You nodded slightly.

“If at any point you want us to stop, say Pinot Noir, it will be our safe word.”

You smiled when you heard the safe word… Pinot Noir… the second wine they ordered a few hours ago and you brought to their table.

“I will.” you reassured her, and she started smiling.

“So now, how about we help you ease the built up tension…”

Her hands started to travel up your arms, feeling the fabric, traveling up to your shoulders to the collar of your blouse.

“Is it okay if I undress you, Darling?” Larissa asked seductively.

“Yes please…” you almost moaned.

She began unbuttoning your buttoned down shirt, button by button. It was agonizingly slow and instead of helping to ease up the tension, it built up even more. You suddenly felt another pair of hands on your shoulders.

“Shh... Babydoll, relax, we are not going to bite... without your consent of course…” Alcina chuckled and started massaging your tensed up shoulders.

You hadn’t noticed her behind you. When you felt a little bit calmer you let your head fall back slightly, and Alcina let it rest against your shoulder. She let her mouth get closer to your neck and started placing light kisses over your neck, traveling up to your ear and back down to your shoulder. She started sucking on your pulse point at which you let out a soft moan, that just made her more eager to suck, lap, lick, and kiss. You were certain that it would leave a mark but you couldn’t care less at this very moment.

When Larissa had unbuttoned your blouse completely she let it slide down your arms and threw it to a nearby armchair. You mindlessly tried to cover your exposed body with your arms, which was not in the interest of the blonde goddess in front of you.

“Tss tss… don’t you dare cover up that beautiful body of yours… You don’t want us to tie you up, now do you…?“ she said, scolding, but with the most beautiful smile.

She looked you in the eyes and there she saw the answer, you had to say nothing, your pupils blew out even more and the blush on your cheeks was back again.

“Oh my… we have a kinky one…!“ Larissa exclaimed, but this time she was not looking at you, she gave her wife, who was still plastering kisses all over your neck, a vicious smile.

“Do we, now…? Seems like we hit the jackpot... My my, what are we going to do now…?” Alcina said between the kisses.

She let go of your neck suddenly.

“I have an idea... Stay like just that baby…” She purred into your ear.

You heard her heels walking away from you and a drawer was opened. The need to turn your head was growing bigger and you slightly let it wander, but a hand on your chin was stopping you.

“Ah..ah.. don’t peek.” She lustfully tutted, “It will ruin the surprise… and the only thing we want ruined tonight is you…” Larissa cooed and gave you a small kiss on your lips.

Alcina got back to the both of you and placed herself behind you again. She lifted her hands around your body and in front of your face, in her hands was a black satin scarf. Her hands stopped right before your eyes.

“We are going to take one sense away from you, so that your others will be heightened…”

And with that everything went black. It was not the first time you were blindfolded but still it made the pooled arousal in your knickers grow even more.

“Perfect... Now, where were we…?” Larissa chuckled.

Now two pairs of hands started to explore your body, the sensations incredible and all you could do was let out your pathetic soft moans and whimpers.

“Hmmmmm, your sweet sounds are just so enticing… Let’s see what other noises that pretty mouth can make…” the woman behind you lustfully commented.

With that, you felt her hands travel back to our bra. With one swift motion she opened it and your bra slid down your arms, exposing your perky breasts to the nippy air. It wasn’t terribly cold, but the air still gave you a shiver and made your nipples erect. One pair of hands found your breasts and softly massaged them, some of her long fingers found your stiff nipples and they rolled them between two fingers. The sensation made you moan out loud, and your hips rolling forward in a sudden jerk of pleasure.

“Mhh… you like that baby girl?”

Your mind was flooded by arousal and the only coherent thing you could do was again nod. This time it was not met with understanding words but with a pinch and tug to each of your nipples, which made you suck in a sharp breath.

“Good girls use their words…! Don’t make us say it again or we’ll have to punish that beautiful body of yours…” she said with a stern but soft voice.

“Yes ma’am, I like it very much…”

You had no idea why you chose ma’am but it just felt right in the moment and if you weren’t blindfolded you would have seen what impact it had on the woman you had just called that. Larissa’s own arousal was covering her thighs and the name calling was only intensifying it…

“Good Girl… I knew you had manners… Keep that up and you will be rewarded, sweet girl…” she said, while caressing your nipples.

While Larissa was taking care of your nipples and breasts, Alcina's hands traveled from your back to your front, finding the buckle of your belt and she started to open it, slowly taking out the belt from its loops.

“If you don’t keep it up, I will get to use this belt…” She whispered into your ear.

The shiver that was sent through your body made both women chuckle. You heard your belt being aside on the bed, and the pair of hands found their way back to your pants. She opened the button and zipper and let your pants slide down your legs, her hands exploring your now bare legs.

“Step out of your pants and kick off your shoes as well.”

You did as you are told.

“Oh wait… Why don’t we lose those knickers well…?” The blonde seductively noted, more to her wife than to you.

One swift motion of whoever’s hands made your knickers meet the floor just like your pants did moments before. Both women saw how drenched the fabric was and gave each other a hungry look, you were obviously not aware of that, but the silence was suspicious enough. Without a warning one hand of each woman found your core, one from the front and one from the back and their slender fingers were exploring your drenched folds.

“Oh Baby... Is that all for us…?”

“You are soaked... so delicious.”

Both women started kissing your neck, chest, back, shoulder… everywhere.. all while their fingers explored your core. You started to moan and whimper, one pair of fingers found your clit and started circling it tediously slow. Your breathing got unsteady, your hips were involuntary bucking forward. A strong hand held a tight grip at your hip and stilled your motion. You were not in charge, not that this was news to you but this small motion reminded you of that.

“Thank you…” you breathed out and you earned yourself a string of mhhs... and uhhs...

Both hands from your core were slowly retracted and you whimpered from the loss of contact, the hands left trails off your wetness on your skin and they started to explore your body even more. You lost yourself in the moment when you suddenly heard the sound of two lips meeting next to your right ear, the wives found each other and were now connected in a heated kiss, you could merely imagine the sight of it, the sounds were pornographic enough to send waves of arousal down to your core. They were both lost in each other, exploring their mouths, tongues fighting for dominance, moaning into each other's mouths, all while their hands were still on you.

They broke the kiss and exchanged a look that spoke more than words needed to. You heard zippers opening and fabric was falling down the floor. Your hands were taken by two soft, strong hands, leading you onto the bed.

“Come onto the bed with me sweetheart… We are about to give you a night you won’t forget…” Larissa promised you, and you followed her lead, crawling onto the bed.

You assumed Larissa stopped at the headboard because you couldn’t feel her movement anymore. You held your position and waited for your next order. You were met with a pair of hands, holding up your face and your lips were met with Larissa’s, her kiss was passionate and heated, you could taste her distinct flavor mixed with Alcina’s taste and it was the most wonderful mixture you had ever experienced. After a minute Larissa broke the kiss.

“Now, I want you to turn around and lay your back against me, make yourself comfortable between my legs.”

“Yes ma’am…” you answered while fulfilling her wish.

You slowly turned around, laid yourself down and rested your back against the tall woman’s torso, her breasts pressed against you. She intertwined her legs with yours to open you up for her wife and whatever would come next.

You twitched slightly as you could suddenly feel her hard, erratic breathing as well as her cool, slick cunt against your ass. The blonde then took your hands and held them behind your back. You moaned slightly at your vulnerability. You could feel the shift in the bed as the raven haired woman crawled towards you. Crawling all the way up to you, until she’s flush against you, trapping your body between the two wives. Alcina’s hand snaked its way down in between your legs, making you shudder and let out a guttural moan, as her fingers teasingly circled your bundle of nerves.

“Tell me… And be honest.” She breathed down your neck, “What do you want…?”

Your breath hitched as her hot mouth connected to your neck, biting and marking you as she awaited your answer.

“I want you to… use me…” you whimpered.

Smack!

Alcina slapped your pussy in response, eliciting a breathy yelp from your lips, which quickly turned into a whimper.

“The truth…” she wickedly reminded you.

You gulped and nodded, panting heavily.

“I want… I’m…”

Her fingers quickened their pace of circles around your clit.

“Oh God!!— Please I’m so stressed and needy…! Wanna be taken care of and fucked ‘n overstimulated till… till I forget everything but your names Ma’am please!!” You mewled.

Both women hummed in delight at your honest response. Your clit was still being teased so relentlessly that your legs were starting to tremble.

“I think we can manage then, hmmmm love…?” Larissa spoke into your ear, directing her words to her wife.

“Hmmmm, we certainly can…” Alcina cooed wickedly, moving her lips off of your neck.

You mewled and jerked against the women’s hold, as Alcinas fingers kept working your clit. Your core was aching and knotted, your need growing more and more. As you grinded the best you could against the teasing fingers, the woman behind you began grinding her core against your ass. Alcina’s tongue found a home on and around your perky nipples, as she playfully licked, sucked, and nipped away at them. You breathily moaned out at the newfound friction, eagerly bucking your hips and arching your back to meet both women’s pleasures.

You felt a tongue run up and down your neckline, making you whimper even more. Your hip jerkings were becoming more erratic and sloppy, as the raven haired goddess’s fingers continued to work your sensitive bud. Incoherent murmurs and whimpers began pouring out from your lips, your eyes rolling back. You could feel your body tensing up and then detensing in an agonizing way. You needed to be filled… Your pussy was clenching around nothing… And as if the woman could read your mind…

“Poor Baby… Your pussy must be fluttering like crazy… Clenching around nothing…”

Your eyes were screwed shut tight, and you nodded vigorously. You felt so empty… Yet the heat and tension in your body kept growing… And then fading… But everytime it came back, it came back stronger, pushing you to the edge more and more… And Larissa’s grindings against your ass, only made everything feel more sensual…

“Are you going to cum from just some clit play, sweet girl…?” Larissa chuckled, nipping at your ear.

“Yes yes yes Ma’am—!! Don’t stop please please don’t stop…!” You groaned.

Alcina’s other hand snaked its way around your throat, squeezing lightly. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth opened wide as a strangled scream escaped your throat. At your reaction, the hand around your neck only tightened. Larissa’s grindings were getting sloppier and her breathing in your ear was labored with groans escaping her lips.

“Oh Alci… I’m gonna… cum…!” The blonde pantingly moaned out.

“Baby, grind that ass against Larissa’s wet cunt…” Alcina instructed you.

“Yes… Ma’am…” you choked out, grinding back into the blonde as best as you could.

Larissa let out a breathy groan right by your ear, sending shivers down your spine and to your core. All the while, Alcina’s fingers continued their administrations and her hand tightened around your throat. All your whimpers and moans being stifled by the raven haired woman’s hand only made your pleasure grow trifold.

“Doing such a good job, Baby…” Alcina purred, while speeding up her circlings on your bundle of nerves.

You cried out in response, but your strangled moan was overridden by Larrisa’s leud moans as she crashed over the edge. She bit down on your neck, convulsing behind you, and this only sent you closer to your edge. Your hips grinded back forth quickly and sloppily.

“Wanna… cum—! May I cum…? Please ma’am…!!” You choked out.

“Alright…” the raven haired woman wickedly purred, “Cum for us, dear…”

“Yes Ma’a—Fuck GOD—!!” You let out a strangled cry, convulsing against the two women.

Your constricted throat spewed moan after moan as you crashed over the edge. Your whole body trembled as the waves of pleasure washed over you, and your walls clenched around nothing. Alcina continued to circle and stimulate your sensitive clit, helping you down from your high. Larissa had started kissing where she had broken your skin, and Alcina leaned over and licked up your oozing blood with a hum of delight. Their mouths met by your ear, and you whimpered at the pornographic sounds of them kissing and breathing down your neck.

When they separated, everything went silent. You waited with baited breath for either of the next woman’s moves. Suddenly you felt the blonde move out from behind you, as the raven haired goddess guided you to lean back on the headboard. You heard and felt the bed shift as both women sat in front of you, taking in your needy form. And then they came closer, each tall goddess taking a side of yours to come up flush against.

What we’re they up to now…?

“God…” Larissa lustfully groaned out, “I need her little heat cunt split open on my cock now…”

“I need to fuck her till there's no doubt in her mind who she belongs to…” Alcina wickedly husked.

Shivers ran through your body, and your breath hitched for the upteenth time. You whimpered and spewed a couple of “please pleases…” but that didn’t stop the two. You could feel a whole new wave of arousal slathering your cunt. Your brain was malfunctioning, was this real…?? Oh, it most definitely was… It was as real as the blonde’s breath on your neck, as real as the raven haired goddess’ teeth marking your collar bone, drawing blood once more.

“I need her to be a writhing mess covered in our cum, the taste of me stuck in her mouth for the rest of today…” the blonde breathily purred.

“I want her to daydream about me ruining her constantly…” the raven haired woman lustfully cooed.

Your body was now trembling with need, your brain short circuiting. Your hands began to wander… But both women quickly caught them, placing them above your head. You whimpered slightly, bucking your hips forward desperately. Your slick was collecting around your thighs as you tried to clench them, but were once again stopped by a pair of strong hands. So your waves of arousal started dripping onto the bedsheets… Fuck… Your mind was so frantic and needy. It spiraled with the dirtiest thoughts of what these women could do to do… And the scariest part was, you knew that they would do all of it. Once. Twice over. Until you were a mindless sex puddle. Their little toy… To do with as they please…

“I wanna fry that precious little slut brain so bad…” the tall goddess wickedly hummed.

“I want her to be in a heap for the rest of today and all she can do is let me hug and kiss her while her puppy parts shiver…” the taller goddess wickedly purred.

Then suddenly all their touch was gone. Nothing. They went silent. Except their heavy breathing. You could hear their panting. And you could feel their starring. Your own chest heaved up and down, as you squirmed, waiting for them to make their next move.

You kept your arms over your head even without the touch of any of the women. They both moaned in approval and you started to blush even harder. Suddenly two hands started to caress your upper body, agonizingly slow creeping up to your breasts, each hand finding one of your nipples and they started playing with them, first slow and soft touches, then getting rougher, pinching, pulling, and flicking your sensitive buds. The wives found your neck again and started to kiss and suck like you were the sweetest meal. You were certain that there would be more than just a few hickeys and marks leftover the next day. The fact that they were marking you as theirs made you even wetter, and you let out a string of moans which only spurred them on even more.

“Mhhm, your pretty sounds are divine…!” Alcina moaned into your ear, making your whole body shudder.

“So Pet... I have a surprise for you. It’s a bit of a secret… And I want you to feel it...” Larissa seductively moaned into your other ear, slowly taking one hand you had over your head.

The nickname puts goosebumps across your skin. She leads your hand down her body, brushing over her own breasts. You felt her nipples were perky and hard, and she let out a soft moan when your hand brushed past. Her hand led yours into her crotch and you couldn’t believe what you were feeling… The throbbing slick pussy that was grinding against you moments before, had now switched into a throbbing, thick cock.. Your brain short circuited to understand how that was possible, but nevertheless, it made you incredibly aroused and hungry for much more.

“Oh Pet... This is all for you. Feel me throbbing for you... I want to feel your tight walls clench around my dick… !”

She took your hand in hers and you both gripped her strong member. Alcina’s hand found you both and joined your slow stroking. The three of you kept stroking the hard cock and Larissa was overwhelmed with overstimulation mixed with a new wabre of feral arousal. You must have looked dumbstruck with your mouth left open, drool pooling up in your mouth which made you swallow hard.

“Plea—…ease.. Please… fill me up ma’am…?” You stammered out.

“Oh sweet Pet, call me Daddy…” Larissa cooly demanded and it made your eyes roll back.

“Please Daddy… will you please fill me up…?” You begged her.

“How can I deny such a well trained pet …? Turn around.” she said with a sweet but stern voice and slowly pushed you around so you were straddling Alcinas lap.

“I love to fuck my pets from behind… like the horny bitches they are…” Larissa commented from behind, making herself comfortable behind you and lining up her girthy member with your entrance.

Alcina was caressing your body and just enjoyed the show that was presented to her. Her hands wandered over your whole body, every inch of your skin was touched, her nails carefully scraping over your body, leaving red trails and goosebumps all over you. She suddenly grabbed your chin and led it closer to her face.

“I want you to moan into my mouth when Daddy enters you, sweet slut…”

And with that Larissa entered you without warning and made you moan the most pornographic sound into Alcinas mouth and she happily swallowed your lewd noises, kissing you deeply and exploring your mouth with her tongue. Larissa slowly pulled out and pushed her shifted member right back into you, making you moan out relentlessly. She repeated this slow act a few more times, before she found herself a steadier rhythm which made you moan out in the same rhythmic pattern.

Alcinas right hand found your clit and was drawing slow circles with her long digits, all while her other hand found her own core, collecting some of her own slick and presenting her fingers to your open mouth. Graciously you took the fingers in and started sucking on it like your life depended on it. The dark haired goddess drawed the fingers from your mouth with a pop and went in for a heated kiss tasting herself on your hot tongue.

“Please…Daddy…more…!!” you cried out, when you parted for air.

“Oh we have an eager one… Is Daddy not filling you up enough, slut…? Is your aching cunt desperate for more…?” Alcina concluded with a lifted eyebrow.

You were not able to form any coherent words anymore.

“Please... I just need more... Ohhh GOD—!! please..!” you begged, turning your head to meet Larissas hungry lips.

Alcina’s hand that had been circling your clit, while her wife was merciless filling you up from behind slowly moved towards your entrance where she was met with her wife’s throbbing member. Larissa stilled her movements to feel Alcina pushing two long fingers slowly into you, stretching you out to the maximum and also brushing past her hard cock. You both shivered from the new sensation and you grabbed after one of Larissa’s hands and intertwined your fingers with her.

“Oh sweet girl… You’re so tight… Filling you up so much…'' Alcina commented before curling her fingers and hitting the spot inside you that she was looking for, while Larissa started her thrusting and finding her pace from before again.

Your moans could not be contained anymore and your body slumped forward, pushing yourself against Alcinas big breasts. Now it was you that was sucking on her neck, leaving small bruises and hickeys, your free hand was searching for something to grip, slightly scratching her back. Alcinas let out the sweetest moans while she felt you losing yourself in arousal. The wives felt your walls clenching mercilessly around their respective member and fingers, they found each other's eyes and were lost into each other with arousal and deep intimacy and trust. Larissa leaned forward to give her love a deep and heated kiss. You heard the kissing sound and it made you bite down onto Alcinas shoulder a bit harder.

“My oh my… What a kinky pet we have… Bite harder, dear…!” She assured you and you obeyed, sinking your teeth into her while letting out your symphony of moans.

“Oh god… please… Daddy...Ma’am...I’m so close… please…!! I… I cum…? please…?!” You begged with all that was left in you.

“I don’t think our sweet slut has begged enough… What do you think, my love…?” the blonde goddess was asked by her wife.

The raven haired goddess then suddenly pulled her fingers from your stuffed hole. You let out a desperate mewl in response.

“No… I think she needs to earn it…” Alcina mused to her wife before turning her attention to you, “Make me cum and then you’ll be allowed to cum as well.”

All this while Larissa was still pounding into you. You drunkenly nodded, your hands stammering to the raven haired woman’s core. Alcina opened her legs for your access, and she led you to slip two fingers into her wet cunt. The woman sighed out in pleasure. You then began sloppily pumping and curling your fingers inside her, having real difficulty as the blonde was still fucking you to the edge over and over again. The squelching of your fingers swiftly and sloppily fucking Alcina’s core only added to erotic environment, making your need to cum only grow.

“That’s it, sweet pet…” Alcina groaned in encouragement, bucking her hips into your hand.

Your mind was fogging up and slipping more and more. You were getting extremely desperate. Everytime the blonde brought you right up the edge, she pulled out just enough to stifle your release. Meanwhile, you desperately continued to finger fuck the raven haired goddess. You could tell the woman was getting closer and closer to her edge. Finally, the raven haired woman came with a sinful cry, her walls clenching around your fingers. The woman then pulled your fingers from her drenched cunt and stuffed them into your mouth, making you moan. Suddenly, you felt two sharp smacks to your ass. That was your tipping point.

“Please please OH GOD please!!!” You screamed.

Alcina’s hand expertly snakes to your clit and began teasing it relentlessly, while Larissa continued to pound into your from behind.

“Come for us, Sweet girl…” the blonde purred.

You crashed over and into your orgasm at the blonde’s words. Larissa’s orgasm came right after yours, as she squirted ropes of hot cum into you. Massive waves of pleasure crashed into you, making your body tremble harshly. Screams left your lungs, and your head lolled back against Larissa’s shoulder. The women kindly helped you down from your massive, intense high, Larissa carefully pulling out of you. They caressed your sweaty and sticky frame lovingly, kissing away your little tears of overstimulation.

“Such a good pet for Daddy…” the blonde breathlessly purred.

“Hmmm, you did so good, little one…” the raven haired woman agreed with a hum.

A wave of exhaustion and satisfaction hit you hard. You collapsed back into the blonde. The two women then began lovingly and gently loving on and caressing you with light kisses and lingering touches. You felt a hand slip off your blindfold with ease. Your gaze met Alcina’s stunning frame. You nearly choked on your own air. She was gorgeous. At your reaction, the woman chuckled.

“Let me go get us some things to clean up…” she mused, getting off the bed and disappearing into another room.

You then became very aware of the blond goddess behind you who was pressing her lips up your spine. You sat up slightly and turned around, and your jaw dropped once more. She was stunning. Your eyes flickered down to where the blonde’s member had been, and you found that it was once more her slick cunt.

“Like something you see, Darling…?” Larissa lightly teased you.

You nodded sheepishly, making the tall blonde chuckle slightly. Larissa then scooped you up with ease and brought you to lean against the headboard next to her. The taller woman then returned with three washcloths, two damp and one dry, as well as three waters. She handed out the waters to the two of you, keeping one for herself. She then sat herself in front of you two.

“Drink. And open your legs.” She commanded.

You both opened your legs without a second thought, making Alcina hum in satisfaction. She then proceeded to clean both your legs, thighs, and around your core with the damp washcloths. She used the dry one to pat the sweat away from your figures. When she was satisfied with her work, Larissa came to her and cleaned up her wife in a similar fashion. You took that time to drink some water. The two wives then looked back to you, each woman coming to sit side by side with you.

“You did extremely well, sweet girl.” Larissa cooed, caressing your cheek.

“Amazing.” Alcina added on, squeezing your shoulder lightly.

Alcina leaned in to give you a sweet and soft kiss and you felt your heart beat faster, there was a warmth radiating inside you. Larissa was caressing your body and you felt yourself slowly drifting off. Alcina layed down your head on the pillow and snuggled you up against her front, while Larissa spooned you from behind, the two wives interwined their hands with yours and they shared a loving and sweet kiss over your body. When they broke the kiss, they both layed down on the pillow next to you and drifted off as well.

“I Love you Alcina” the blonde said with a sleepy voice.

“I Love you too Draga mea” Alcina answered her wife.

~~~

The next morning you woke up with two pairs of arms and legs tangled around your body and keeping you in place. The last night came back into your head and you first thought it was a wild dream, but you slowly realized it really happened and buried your face into the pillow. The smell of sex was still lingering in the room and it made your face blush in a deep red. You couldn't believe that you really went with the two goddesses. Your movement woke up the blonde woman behind you.

“Good morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?” she asked softly, placing a kiss on your neck.

“I’m… I’m feeling good…” you stretched your body a little bit “ maybe a little bit sore” you sheepishly admitted.

The dialogue causes the raven haired woman to stir awake.

“Why don’t you try getting up, hmmm…?” Alcina cooed wickedly, dancing her fingertips up and down your legs.

You cocked an eyebrow over at the woman.

“What, you think I’ll fall? I walk for a living, it takes more to make me fall.” You snorted in giggles.

Your reaction caused both women to chuckle and then burst into laughter.

“Hey!!” You exclaimed, playfully swatting both women.

Determined to prove them wrong, you crawled out of bed and went to stand up. You were extremely wobbly, but you managed to carefully make it all the way to the bathroom door. “See!” You looked back at the women with a shit eating grin.

But you were met with Larissa’s intense and determined stare and Alcina’s wicked smirk and a light growl.

“I think our pet hasn’t had enough…? Don’t you, Dearest?” Larissa purred, while staring you down.

You gulped.

“Oh I agree…” Alcina chuckled.

Both women then scurried out of bed, stripping themselves, taking your hand and leading your naked body into the bathroom.

“We’re not done with you until you can’t walk, Darling…” Larissa wickedly purred, backing you up against the large shower wall. The wives start to attack your sore body with their hands and with kisses, replaying the night before.

Oh what had you gotten yourself into…

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Alcina Dimitrescu Masterlist

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

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Let's Talk About That Chapter 1

Psychiatrist!Avenger!Fem!Reader × Wanda Maximoff

Summary: You are the young psychiatrist for the Avengers, and you take your job very seriously, but what happens when Wanda joins the team, turning your life upside down?

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: legal age gap r is 19 w is 25, talks of death and grief, a bit of angst, therapy sessions

A/N: I had this idea for a while and wrote it a while ago, but spruced it up for publishing. I hope you enjoy it!

May 7th-10th 2015

The only sounds to be heard were the scratches of your pen against paper as you wrote down notes the old fashioned way and the hum of the AC unit installed in your office. Tony let you have a nice corner of the tower where there was sunlight and windows. You had gone with a soft gray for the walls, an L-shaped mahogany desk that had both a desktop computer and your laptop. Across from your desk was two couches and a coffee table between them with an assortment of fidget toys, a succulent, a handful of magazines, and a box of tissues.

Everyone had been away on an important mission and normally you’d go with, but you'd been recovering from a previous injury, you still are when you hear a knock on your door,

"Open." You let them know and just from their aura you can tell it's Tasha, but she's with someone else, an aura you don't recognize. You look up to find a girl with chestnut colored hair, and a dark aura around her. "Hey Tash. I'm glad you're all home safe. I'm assuming we'll restart our sessions?" You ask the red head.

"Yes. We can resume them. Tomorrow. Today I need you to have a talk with this one." Tasha helps her into the room and gestures for her to sit down, Tasha walks over and hands you a large file. "She came from HYDRA, they had a lot of info on her, she had joined us in the fight against Ultron." Tasha tells you before lowering her voice, "She lost her twin brother during the battle. So maybe you can get her to talk." You smile at Tasha and then look past the red head.

"Yeah of course we shouldn't have any issues Tash. Leave it to me." You tell her as I adjust your glasses, quickly looking over her file as Tasha exits, closing the door behind her, "Wanda Maximoff, 25, born in Sokovia." You say out loud as you walk around your desk to the other couch across from where she's sitting criss-cross. You take notice she's taken her shoes off and smile, taking note of the fact that she’s comfortable enough to do something like that. "I'm Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I'm 19. I'm also an Avenger. I have a power that allows me to see auras and emotions. I can also influence people's emotions and use my voice to influence others around me." You tell her a little about yourself first to help make her comfortable with talking about herself.

"You're 19? How are you a doctor?" She finally talks and you can hear her thick Sokovian accent which is like music to your ears.

"I'm very smart. Graduated high school at 12 finished my Doctorate last year for psychiatry and Tony took me in as the Avengers Psychiatrist shortly after that. Everyone here needs a little bit of help and that is what I'm here to provide for you." You smile at her as you open a fresh notebook for her, choosing a red covered one noticing that she was wearing Tasha’s red leather jacket. "So tell me a little about yourself. Anything you want." You ask as you jot down her basic info on the first page.

"I love American sitcoms." she tells you first. You smile and look at her over your glasses.

"Why is that?" You ask as you jot down her words.

"We used to watch them as a family every night so we could learn English." She tells you making a smile appear on your face.

"When you say we who does that entail?" You question the Sokovian wanting to get to the root of her problems.

"My Mama, Papa, and Pietro..." She tells you solemnly.

"Who is Pietro?" You inquire, looking up from your notebook.

"He is...was...my twin brother." You jot down everything she says during your session and she does open up a little bit with some persuasion on your part, but that isn't unusual for your sessions.

"Well Wanda thank you for opening up to me. Your aura is looking a little warmer from when you first walked in. How about you come back in three days for another session?" You tilt your head as you grab a little card for her.

"Why three days?" She asks nervously, tugging at her sleeves attempting to cover her hands, but the jacket doesn't budge. She starts picking at her nails as an alternative, chipping the black nail polish further.

"I like to have frequent sessions the first month. Then we'll have them weekly just like the others." You let her know and she nods her head as you write the date and time for her to show up on the card for three days from now. Standing up with her, "I offer a high fives, hand shakes, fist bumps, or a hug at the end of sessions. Which would you like?" You ask and she's thrown off a bit by the statement at first but then answers.

"Hug. I could use a hug right now." You open up your arms and let her come to you. She ends up crying in your arms as you sooth her, letting her know it is okay to cry.

"I'll always be here for you Wanda. I'm always on your side." You whisper to her and she holds you tighter at the words.

You sat back down at your desk after Wanda left, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Empathy for Wanda's pain, determination to help her heal, and a lingering sense of dread about what HYDRA had done to her. But you pushed those feelings aside, focusing on the task at hand.

As the Avengers' psychiatrist, it was your responsibility to help your teammates navigate the mental and emotional toll of their work. Sometimes that meant delving into painful memories or difficult emotions, but it was a role you took on willingly. After all, you had your own share of struggles, and if you could use your powers to help others, then it was worth it.

You glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time for lunch. You decided to take a break and head to the common area, where you found Tony tinkering with one of his suits.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted you with a grin. "How's it going?"

"Good," you replied, sinking into a nearby chair. "Just had a session with Wanda. She's been through a lot."

Tony nodded solemnly. "Yeah, losing her brother and all that HYDRA stuff... it's rough."

You sighed, running a hand through your Y/H/C hair. "Yeah, but she's strong. I think she'll come through it."

Tony gave you a reassuring smile before returning to his work, and you took a moment to appreciate the camaraderie of the team. Despite your differences and the challenges you guys faced, you were a family, bound together by our shared experiences and our commitment to protecting the world.

After a quick lunch, you headed back to your office to prepare for your next session. As you reviewed your notes from Wanda's session, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to her story, something hidden beneath the surface. But for now, all you could do was continue to offer her support and hope that she would find the strength to confront her demons and emerge stronger on the other side.

With that thought in mind, you square your shoulders and prepare to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As an Avenger, a psychiatrist, and a friend, you were ready to do whatever it took to help your teammates and protect the world from whatever threats may come our way.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Three days passed in a blur of meetings, training sessions, and the occasional emergency mission. But today, you were back in your office, eagerly awaiting Wanda's return for your second session. As you sat at your desk, reviewing your notes from your previous meeting, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for her. Losing a loved one in battle was something you could relate to all too well.

Before you could dwell too much on your own past, there was a soft knock on your door, and Wanda stepped into the room. Her aura seemed a bit brighter today, though still tinged with sadness. "Hey, Wanda," you greeted her with a warm smile, motioning for her to take a seat. "How are you feeling today?"

Wanda hesitated for a moment before answering, "Better, I think. Thank you for... everything last time."

You nodded, understandingly. "Of course. It's what I'm here for." You gestured toward the notebook on the table. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

For the next hour, the two of you delved deeper into Wanda's past, her memories of Sokovia, her time with HYDRA, and her experiences with her brother, Pietro. With each word she spoke, you could feel her emotions swirling around you, and you did your best to guide her through them, offering comfort and support where you could.

As your session came to a close, Wanda seemed visibly lighter, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Y/N," she said softly, wiping away a stray tear. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of fulfillment wash over you. "Anytime, Wanda. Remember, I'm always here for you."

Before she left, Wanda surprises you by reaching out and giving you a tight hug. "Thank you," she repeated, her voice thick with emotion.

As you watched her leave your office, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to help someone in need, to make a difference in their life, even if it was just one session at a time. And as you glanced down at the Power Stone embedded in your chest, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this was the true source of your ability to connect with others on such a deep level. But for now, all that mattered was that you were making a difference, one session at a time.

#ley speaks #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fluff #ley writes #wanda x reader #wanda x you

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

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Let's Look Over The Garden Wall

Summary: One wants an easy meal and one wants to play house.

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), MDNI, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Contract Marriage, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, pet name? (calls you good girl) TW: Blood & Blood drinking, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader, slight orgasm denial, slight corruption kink, wedding night, temperature play? He falls hard, slow fic, tragedy

Authors note: This whole fic was a challenge since I wanted to write it kinda from Alhaitham’s pov. I’m not really knowledgeable about vampires, so in this fic they’re just a type of monster and not undead, and vampire blood can turn humans into monsters. Enjoy!

Side note: Here is the other side, Finale

The secretary had just arrived at the office not too long ago, shift starting at six pm and going until midnight. The typical hours for a creature of the night.

Like a sweet breeze that blew stray leaves through his office’s open window, a stranger came gallivanting through the boundaries of his door, contract in hand. Faruzan, the office receptionist trailing after you with your proper introduction.

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting this when he walked through the sliding doors of the building. The biggest company in Sumeru, the firm that specialized in such dubious pacts.

In an age where humans now outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten the once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to play by mortal rules. One such rule, vampires can no longer drink human blood.

Animal substitutes were of course inferior in both taste and satisfaction, any vampire would know this. However, there’s a loophole to this law. Vampires can’t drink human blood legally unless it’s consensual by both parties, established through contracts. Business exchanges for money, power, or glory.

Of course, this practice is heavily regulated. Hunters who uphold the balance ready to rip the hearts out of those who dare make an unfair deal. Alhaitham is the simple secretary who files these contracts, not one of the agents tasked with such things.

Still, he’s intrigued. Even in this office there are many who have yet to see the face of this elusive vampire, how did this human identify him? He was looking for an excuse to stray away from dull lines of files, might as well entertain your musings.

The ashen-haired immortal pulls out a seat for you, nodding to Faruzan sending her out of his office, giving you privacy. Alhaitham ambles to the other side of the polished wood, settling down on his plush office chair.

“The process for filling a contract is straightforward, even though this consultation wasn’t planned, if negotiations go well you’ll then undergo a psychological evaluation.”

You nodded your head lightheartedly, posture relaxed in the chair.

“So,” he begins.

“What are your demands?”

“Marry me.”

Dead silence. He certainly wasn’t expecting a proposal this Monday night. Were you wasting his time with a joke?

You must’ve read his unfazed mask. Quickly pulling a pen and notepad from your pocket.

“I’m being serious, I want you to be my husband.” Hands swiftly jotting sentences down on paper.

In your graceless handwriting, you listed all your qualifications. Age, name, blood type, and financial status. You also detailed some self-prescribed personality traits.

Alhaitham skips over that section.

Marriage contracts weren’t unheard of, nor were marriages between humans and vampires. He believes such practices weren’t deemed illegal solely because of human morbid curiosity and desires.

No immortal, with their centuries of knowledge and wisdom, would waste such energy on a mortal, without a price of course. It would be a fool’s errand to not have fair compensation.

“For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine.” You point the pen toward him.

How romantic.

“I’d say you’re getting the better end of the deal, Mr. Alhaitham.” There’s a curl to your lips, resting your elbows upon his polished desk.

With a slight sigh, Alhaitham pulls out a form, pen swiftly recording the necessary information. There’s going to be a long process of straightening out the clauses, but this should suffice for approval.

“Why me?” He inquires, straightening out the proposal on his desk.

“You’re handsome, have money, and I like your voice.”

The rustling of papers and pens stopped. Dead unamused silence.

“Pfft! Too brash? Sorry, sorry, I was only joking,” giggling as you waved it off.

“Well, to be fair the real reason isn’t much better, to be honest.” You leaned in closer, creeping towards the unseen boundaries of his personal space.

“I often see you passing through the streets, guess I got enamored from there.” Your smile was shameless but your cheeks were tinted pink.

A hopeless romantic, that answer suffices him for now. He could’ve easily shown you the door, but life has been stagnant for a few decades. History repeats itself if you live long enough to see it, new occurrences are rare. As the sky deepens from indigo to midnight, two bodies sit across from each other, discussing sentences written on paper.

“I’ll contact you in three business days with the verdict, have a good night.”

“I shall await the news.” You beamed at him, warm and icy hands meeting for a handshake.

Just as you entered, you left with that same giddiness. Now left with his thoughts, Alhaitham reviewed the documents, he had three days to ponder whether or not to submit them to the legal team, and through the judgment of a certain scarlet-eyed General Hunter.

As per Sumeru regulations, all offices run by vampires must have uncovered glass windows. An attempt conquered by humans to enfeeble creatures of the night. Alhaitham’s beryl gaze traveled up the length of the building stationed across the street.

What an ironic placement for a hospital to be facing the biggest firm staffed by immortality. Or perhaps it was strategic, after all the most desperate humans are the ones who lay upon their deathbeds for one last hurrah.

The perfect scheme to keep the blood contracts flowing in.

Teal eyes observe the room right across through the glass, it seems freshly vacant. New untouched sheets, new unflatten pillow, and fresh towels.

Alhaitham can now confirm the validity of your statement, a half-truth.

When deciding on a contract, one must weigh the pros and cons, to see if they balance or if one side gives away to another. Your demands? You wanted to experience married life, all aspects of it. Your offer? Your everything.

All your assets together can’t hold a candle to the amount Alhaitham has accumulated for centuries, but it’s a decent amount. Perhaps due to a medical settlement.

Alhaitham has lived long enough to rein in primal desires, he can suffice off animal substitutes just fine. However, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want a taste of the real thing again. You offer him a steady supply, and to give him every last drop after seven years.

Yes, all of this for a mere seven-year contract. A deal heavily tipped in the favor of the vampire, not even a mere fraction of the time immortality offers. However, what piqued his interest the most weren’t the benefits listed.

A garden wall the tall vampire can’t peer over. Insight only attainable by those who near the end of their finite paths. What’s it like to have agency? What’s it like to have such finite time?

He’ll have seven years to observe. He submits the forms on the third day, delivering your verdict over the phone. Alhaitham agrees to entertain your little daydream.

On part that it was Alhaitham who personally filed the forms, the approval process went swimmingly, skipping the paper line. Tighnari oversaw the psychological evaluation, test after test confirming the sanity of your mind, speeding up the process of getting that stamp.

–

“What flowers do you like? I’m planning the decorations.” Your legs swinging under his kitchen table.

The contract was approved, hands held and certificates signed at the town hall, your belongings moved into his house. It’s excessive to want a celebration after all of that.

“Whichever flowers you want.”

Alhaitham will hold his tongue, after all, he’s signed to play the role of a husband.

–

The venue was spacious, high ceilings with marble floors and pillars, all of which were lavishly cluttered with Padisarahs, Sumeru Roses, and Kalpalata Lotuses. Alhaitham stood at the altar just off to the side of the wedding officiant. Tuxedo crisp and hands folded together, he scans over the rows of guests invited.

Since there weren’t any in-laws, Alhaitham assumed you wouldn’t have much of a social network. No one’s correct all the time, he ignores the piercing glares of a few eyes. The all-too-loud tones of a grand piano resound through the room. The previously shut doors open to reveal your figure. Embellished dress and veil perfectly framed by the carved entranceway as you ambled your way up the aisle.

The twilight hues of the sky dye the white gown in everchanging vibrancy as you passed by the standing crowd, up the steps to the altar, and finally in front of him. The overwhelmingly floral scent of the bouquet itches his nose.

Alhaitham pays no mind to the soliloquy of the officiant, he simply follows the rehearsed procedures. Sliding the gold band onto your finger and allowing you to do the same to him, lifting the veil to reveal your starry-eyed gaze he places a practiced kiss against your warm lips.

Is this excessive ritual over yet? No.

Alhaitham stands in the corner of the reception hall, hand nursing a glass of wine. The rich spices of the buffet offered to the guest irritated his palate. Supernatural creatures with their enhanced senses, a double-edged sword. Human food serves no purpose to vampires, it’s over-seasoned and pungent. At least your species has created drinks such as coffee and wine, delicacies even immortal creatures can enjoy.

In the center of the artificially lit hall, you eagerly greeted all your guests as they beamed at you. Giggling and hugging each person as an entourage of three friends helped with that embellished gown of yours. Two pairs of eyes from said entourage occasionally glared at him, their bodies forming a barrier to separate groom from bride. Candace and Dehya were the names you introduced to him.

Your starry-eyed self blissfully unaware of the silent cold war as the scarlet-haired dancer calls the attention of the two hunters back for the bouquet toss. Alhaitham was nothing more than just a decoration, you just wanted an excuse to prance around in a pretty white dress and throw a fancy party. He’s your husband, he’ll tolerate this daydream.

–

“Did you enjoy the reception?”

Only after the send-off and closing ceremony of the celebration, when the bride and groom were behind the thick oak doors of their suite, that you seemed to remember the decoration named ‘Alhaitham’.

“Yes, it was lovely.” The wine provided by the venue was of the highest quality, it entertained him enough.

“I hope you’re not upset at me being busy with guests.” Your arms found their way around his waist.

Quite comfortable encroaching on his space huh.

“I’m not.” Better they talk to you and not him.

As his cold hands pat the exposed skin of your back, his teal eyes didn’t miss the trail of goosebumps that prickled your skin. Shall he move on to the next scene? The lacing of your dress seems quite complicated, he assumes that it must have taken a few pairs of hands to tie it. Should he be a good husband?

“Do you need help with this?” His baritone voice was right against your ear, noticing the flush on the tips.

“Yes.” For once your voice was just barely above a whisper, a blushing bride.

The lacing weaved in and out of eyelets running down along the length of your back, how troublesome. Always one for efficiency, Alhaitham simply takes a handful of the taught lace and pulls, they snapped like simple threads. Such things offer no resistance to a creature of the night. The gasp that escaped your lips feed into something deep within.

With the bonds loosened, the embellished dress of yours lost the fight against gravity, fabric pooling at your feet. Revealing to teal eyes the lacy white stockings, garter belt, and panties, all the hallmarks of a wedding night. It’s impossible to deny the hunger crawling up his throat, no force of nature could resist such a sight.

“Aren’t you forgetting something? It’s rude to not offer the groom some help, no?” His hunger enjoyed that scarlet flush on your face.

Indecisive fingers going for the easiest button, opening the tuxedo jacket allowing him to shimmy it off his broad shoulders. Teal eyes continued to survey your flushed face, the smirk on his waiting for your hands to continue. Obeying his silent command like a good bride, you loosened the bow tie next, finally freeing him from that stiff collar.

Slowly your eyes peered up, asking if the torment was over yet, the slight rise in his ash brow directing you to resume. From your lips came the beginnings of a whine to which he sternly shushed. If you couldn’t even undress him how would you be able to do the other vulgar activities?

Finally relenting, your fingers continued with their clumsy attempt at unbuttoning his dress shirt, once a small window of his chest appeared your face pressed against the cool skin, staying there until all the buttons were undone. Oh? So even you can feel shame?

“Shall we continue on the bed, my bride?”

Your face was still hidden in his chest as you nodded, where did that shameless nature of yours go? With your gaze adverted he didn’t even bother hiding the curl of his lips. Sweeping you off the ground, he could hear the flutter in your chest increasing as the distance between the bed closes.

Upon silk sheets, Alhaitham settles down with you in between his legs and back against his chest. One key difference between humans and vampires? Body heat, one creature’s cells produces warmth, while the other simply remains the temperature of the environment. Your flushed skin seared itself into his, icy and hot mending together to create an equilibrium.

Of course, a good husband would warm his wife up. Alhaitham runs his cool palms along the length of your plush thighs and leg, absorbing the warmth as his own, soothing the shivers and goosebumps on your skin. Every now and then boldly creeping up the sides of your waist to twist at your perked nipples, enjoying every jolt and whine.

“Oh? Since when was this transparent?”

A firm hand grasps your chin, directing your vision towards white lace panties, the fingers on his other hand tracing over the shape of your cunt through the soaked fabric. Another lovely whine left your lips, face burning even more as you weakly protested in his hold, too powerless to do anything.

Skilled digits honed in on the nub that made your body jolt away, rubbing the faintest of circles over the delicate fabric, your legs trapped by his robust arms standing no chance to preserve your shattered dignity. As such, you had to follow his desires tonight.

“Or are you excited just by a few fleeting touches? What a lewd bride you are.”

It seems that you were telling the whole truth when you exclaimed how much you liked his voice, his finger could feel the slick that began to seep through the lace. Brushing the fabric to the side, Alhaitham allowed his middle finger to collect the slick along your slit allowing the rest of his digits to warm up against your cunt’s soft mounds. His throat felt parched as the sweet scent teased his nose, but now was not the time, maybe later in the night.

“Will you be honest?” The heel of this palm freely pressed against your clit as his middle finger continued to run up and down your wet lips, every now and then almost slipping.

Your body couldn’t hide its eagerness, hole clenching at nothing every time his finger passed by. However, he needed confirmation from you. Communication is important in a contract no?

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’ll be honest.” You pressed your back flat against his chest, trying to hide your face but his firm hold wouldn’t allow it.

“Good girl, then tell me what you desire.” His crisp breath provides your searing skin some relief.

Your plush lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes shut, cheeks heating up even more. It wouldn’t be good if you passed out from heat exhaustion so quickly. He grinds his palm into that sensitive nub, tormenting the answer out of you, nectar now dripping onto the sheets below.

“I want to c-cum,” You breathed out.

How direct, close but it wasn’t what he was looking for.

“You have to be more clear with your instructions, how do you want to cum?”

“Y-your fingers.”

“Good girl.” Finally, his finger breached your soaked entrance.

Pulsating walls welcomed him with unyielding squeezes, dragging his soaked digit further. Your sweet moans and whines resounded through the spacious suite, the volume of your voice directing him toward that spongey spot deep within. You were wet enough for another finger, so Alhaitham adds another, two digits stretching and exploring your soaked cavern.

“Mmmh! T-there!” Your toes were curling.

“Mmm.” The hum vibrated in his chest as his fingers went hard at work, thrusting into your quivering walls.

Each time his palm would slap against your clit your honest hole would clench down so endearingly. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, the muscles in your leg tensing up more and more. It’s obvious that you were close, but before he fulfilled your demands, he decided to be proactive and prepare for the next step.

Releasing your chin from his grasp, allowing your head to lull back against his shoulder. Alhaitham reaches between your bodies, hands never pausing their pace, swift fingers undoing the confines of his trousers. Allowing for his member to lay right against your back, the jolt of your body at the foreign object pressing against you made his hunger worse.

“Did you get more turned on? You’re clenching down tighter, did you want it that badly?”

Even if your eyes refused to meet his, the way your hips grind against his length, warming it up, told him all he needed to know. Your gummy walls constrict more around his fingers, it’s time to wrap up this scene, the next one is even more exciting. So his palm now digs into your clit, circling the now swollen bud in combination with his finger pressing against that nice spot deep inside.

“C-cummin-”

How cute, he didn’t even need to ask you to announce it. Letting your body ripple with the force of the orgasm, trembling limbs within his solid hold. If he was merciful, he would’ve continued to slide his fingers in and out, or maybe continue to caress your little nub, guiding you back to reality. However, hunger doesn’t allow for mercy.

Removing his soaked digits away from your pulsating cunt, teal eyes observing the transparent strings that clung to them with amusement. A small appetizer wouldn’t spoil the main meal, skilled tongue cleaning his fingers of your slick. Your head still limp against his shoulder, eyes rolled back in the throws of pleasure. To bring you back down to earth, it's best to use a new type of force.

Effortlessly, your hips were lifted up dripping cunt lined up with his impatient length below. In one fluid motion, your walls encase everything, drenched cunt giving no resistance as his tip kisses the spongy spot. Alhaitham lets a hiss escape him, it was as if he thrusted into the sun, your walls quickly bringing his member up to its temperature.

From your lips another moan was ripped out, oh it seems that you’ve plummeted back to reality. Your cunt trembled yet gripped onto his cock like a vice, coaxing him to go in deeper, encouraging his hunger to abuse your gummy walls even more. Barely riding out one wave of pleasure before another drowned you.

The hunters at your wedding could stick to your side the whole celebration, they could glare at him all they wanted, and they could try their damndest to keep the vampire at a distance. However, it was all efforts wasted in vain. For it was you, the blushing bride, who walked straight into his arms in the end, so open and receptive.

As he slides out just the slightest bit, your cunt protested by desperately clamping down, begging for his thick girth to stay in. In response he tightened his grip on your hips, lifting your body back up before bouncing you back down. What a glutton for pleasure you were, even as your little mouth whimpered and babbled, your walls thanked each slap of his hips with squeezes.

Sadistic hunger wanted more, to thrust deeper, to bully that poor spot inside of you over and over again with his thick tip as your walls stretch to accommodate the girth. His thighs collected the mixture of sweat and slickness from your body at each thrust. Your fingers dug into his hands, fingers white as you tried to grasp at anything to ground yourself.

“F-fast, too m-much.” There was drool escaping the corner of your parted lips, eyes barely back from seeing the inside of your head.

“Oh? Do you want me to stop?”

Alhaitham grinds to a stop, member still pressing deep inside you as he pulled you closer so his breath could ghost over your nape. In an instant, your mouth and cunt protested, you should be more clear with your instructions.

“N-noo.” Crying over the ruined tension.

“No? You wanted this.” His finger finds its way back to that swollen nub, flicking it a few times to watch the jumps of your body.

“If I let you cum, then I’ll do it my way, is that clear, my bride?” Tormenting your clit with firm circles.

“Yes! Please! P-pleasee.”

So weak against his voice, the sweet calls of a beast to lure you into the depths of depravity. Such is the fate of a shameless bride. Thus, his hips sprang back into action with renewed vigor. One hand keeps your hips still and the other remains on your clit to force that knot to reappear deep inside you.

Nothing but nonsense and moans babbled from your loose face, nectar dripping down to his heavy balls as they slapped against you with each pistoning of his hips. Your frantic hands entangled themselves into ash-mint locks as he felt gummy walls closing in tighter and tighter, your toes curling at the end of spread legs. Sinful slaps increased in frequency throughout the room as did the pace of the finger on your clit.

Your tense body held the warning of another storm, another fall off the edge into the depths. Alhaitham brushes his nose up your nape, the floral scent didn’t distract him from the goal laying just behind the skin. Your nerves were exhausted from the shooting pleasure, now was the perfect time to finally get his share. It’s only fair.

Prepping the area with a slow lick as his hips continued their brutal pace, incisors brushed against the delicate skin before piercing through. His hand shot up from your hip to your neck, a loose grip holding you still as your body tensed then violently shivered. The frenzy clamping of your cunt on his length was proof of your fall. Loose jaw uttering out broken moans as tears dripped down your chin.

The fresh scarlet flooded over his tongue and down his throat as Alhaitham continued with his slow suckling. Ah, you were very much like a flower, so delicate, so fragrant, and so bittersweet. It’s been almost a century since he last tasted the real thing, his body celebrated by filling your walls with thick release. An equivalent exchange of some sort.

A human body is quite frail, losing over two pints of blood borders on fatal territory. It’s not good to deplete a resource so quickly. Alhaitham releases your neck, running his tongue over the wound to seal it up. Teal eyes checked your complexion to ensure his measurements were accurate. Cheeks still with a healthy red flush as your chest heaved with pants, eyes glistening with tears. Such a shameless sight. He allows your head to roll onto his shoulder.

The rhythm of your heart settles back to its resting state as Alhaitham analyzes the taste he just experienced.

“I love you,” you breathed into his shoulder.

Alhaitham stiffens, the herbal aftertaste of your blood was bitter, the tang dried out his mouth causing a drawn-out pause. This is no good, he can’t miss the cue to say the line a bride longs to hear from her groom.

“I love you too.”

The choir of crickets from the world outside filled the void along with your pants.

“Pfft! Maybe let’s not say that, it’s too weird.” You shamelessly laughed, lifting your face from his skin.

What a relief, at least you seem to still have sense. Such words felt forcefully wedged into a script that wasn’t written for it. Might as well remove the line altogether. Moving on from the scene, Alhaitham lets you enjoy the warmth reflected off his body by yours.

It’s in the clauses to allow you to enjoy all aspects of marriage, so enjoy this honeymoon segment.

“Haitham, can you carry this for me please?”

“Haitham, I can’t reach, can you get it please?”

“Haitham, let’s have panipuri tonight!... Can you cook it please?”

It would’ve been better if he remained nothing more than just a decoration. It would’ve been easier if he was just a view for you to see behind glass. Perhaps Alhaitham’s acute eyes misread the contract, did you want a husband or just a maid?

Instead of sitting down in his own house to enjoy a book, he finds himself saddled with domestic responsibilities.

Must you call on him for everything?

Laundry and groceries aren’t that heavy. If you can’t reach the top shelves with the duster, then just get a chair. No ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ could prevent the downward tug of his lips every time you call him that doltish name. Your justification of a ‘nickname’ between lovers was moronic.

“Huh… Haitham how come you only use salt?”

Why do you make a creature who doesn’t consume such foods cook them? You’re more than capable of cooking for yourself every day. Although, Alhaitham would prefer it if you stopped using such overly fragrant herbs and spices.

Of course, when two breaths occupy the same space, there are bound to be pieces that don’t fit together, just as two breaths never sync. Alhaitham already factored those into his decision, but this was more proof of why a theory is always second to application. How troublesome the reality of marriage is, no wonder divorce rates are so high.

A good actor knows how to stay in character, so he’ll keep these thoughts to himself. Just as he lists your quirks silently.

One, you’re capricious. One moment silently enjoying a drama on the TV you asked him to purchase, body hogging the entire expanse of a couch. The next, you’ll be humming as plates and cups clatter in the sink, or the heavy thumps of your steps as you bound through the house with a mop. Alhaitham prefers it when you’re stationary, at least it doesn’t disturb his reading.

–

Two, you drink tea, an unfathomable amount of it. A warm cup always nestled between your fingers, bitter water mixed with honey. The herbal tang finds its way into your blood, making it taste like medicine. Thus, Alhaitham treats it as such, medicine just to alleviate suppressed bloodlust taken in moderation.

–

Three, you wanted to celebrate everything. Each square of a calender marked with scribbles. Why celebrate a celebration that’s already past? What is so special about a birthday? The past two years you purchased the same bundle of pungent flowers that made up that bouquet on that day to gift to him.

“Don’t you want a taste? I saved a slice just for you. Oh, would you eat it if I sprinkled some of my blood on it?”

Alhaitham swiftly accepts the plate from you, lifting the fork of overly sweet birthday cake into his mouth. Useless carbs take up space in his body, but such a thing causes no harm. Better to taste like pure sugar and not medicine.

–

The worst quirk of yours? You rise as soon as the sun greets the sky, adamant to not miss a single second of a day. Every day’s itinerary is filled with spur-of-the-moment decisions, such as going to a farmers market only open on Saturdays between the hours of 9 am and 2 pm. And how you drag him along.

Curses, only a human would drag a creature of the night into the day. What sadistic creatures, delighting in others' misery, you’re no exception.

“I thought you said vampires aren’t like how TV depicts them.” Curious eyes observe his slouched figure.

Vampires aren’t like how those dramas of yours depict them. No formal invitation to cross wooden thresh holds, no garlic braids as an effective shield, and no turning into a pile of ash at the mere rays of a star.

If so, then vampires would’ve been long gone by now. However, just because the sunlight can’t kill a vampire-

“It doesn’t mean it’s not unpleasant.” His stoic voice was too tired to add a bite.

You continued to stare at him with wonderment, as if what he said was the most complex theory known to the universe. Those dramas must’ve rotted that mind of yours, he concludes. You’re beyond saving.

“I see.” Gentle hands lift the excessive sun hat from your head.

Reaching on your tiptoes you place it atop his head, the straw brim providing some reprieve for his irritated skin. Shuffling the hat around until it’s securely nested along his now trussed ash locks. Satisfied, you lower yourself back down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We can go home..”

Tenderly, your hands clasped around his, guiding him into the shade. The whole walk your hands never left his, eyes always searching for the next patch of shadows to lead him into. For the rest of the weekend, you just watched your dramas, the sensation of guilt must’ve muted your voice.

Good. He celebrated this rare break in his library away from you.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Monday night rolled around again, as he passes the living room, he spots your loafing body napping on his couch as the TV acted as white noise. Tsk. Regardless, it’s time to get to work, he walks toward the front door.

“Wait,” came a soft command, dripping with sleep.

From around the corner, your figure comes stumbling towards Alhaitham, his hand still firmly on the knob. Hands busy trying to rub the fatigue away from your eyes, blinking away the pleasant dream you were just in.

Why did you abandon it? Alhaitham doesn’t know.

Your frame reaches his, transferring some of your warmth to him, arms outstretched towards his neck. Teal eyes don’t miss the way your drowsy legs were wobbling. To prevent any accidents, he supports your body with an arm around the waist.

Just as he feels your body steady, clammy palms encase the sides of his face. Pulling it down as your supple lips pressed against his cool cheek. Did you traverse all the way from the sofa just for a kiss?

“Have a good night at work.” Your shameless smile beamed.

A habit formed from one of your dramas, a wife bidding goodbye to her husband with a sweet kiss to boost his spirits. Curiosity must have gotten the better of you, or maybe you wanted to amuse yourself, two possibilities Alhaitham devises.

–

“So, how’s married life treating you?” Kaveh’s smug tone grated against his eardrums as the blond rested an elbow on the bar table.

Alhaitham couldn’t stop the frown from forming, nor the heavy sigh, so he took a hearty sip of his wine. Emptying the glass in one fluid motion.

“Heh, I see you’ve been enjoying the spoils of marriage very much,” Tighnari snickered.

“Sure, if you wish to see it that way.” Alhaitham’s hand found itself pouring another glass.

It seems that everyone around the ashen-haired vampire was enjoying the spoils of this odd union, everyone but him that is. His miseries fueling the chaff nature of his acquaintances, still he needed a reprieve to drink.

Not that herbal blood of yours, but something actually palatable like the fragrant wine washing the frustrations down his throat. It’s not marriage, it’s having to work overtime.

“Regardless, you signed a contract, you must uphold the clauses.” Cyno’s scarlet eyes leered over the rim of his glass.

Alhaitham sighs, he should’ve drank alone.

–

The tavern wasn’t a far journey away from his house. The deep hues of night slowly shift to the youthful flushes of dawn. He’s been drinking for quite some time, it didn’t matter, alcohol has no effect on a body such as his.

Alhaitham twists the key, the door creaking ajar just to reveal your figure with arms crossed. Disappointment ever so clear in those eyes of yours.

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your tone.

After a few hours of reprieve, Alhaitham is welcomed home with an interrogation. Wonderful. Why should he answer this meek creature standing in front of him? He could just walk to bed and get the rest he deserves.

‘You must uphold the clauses.’

Right, Alhaitham has to play the role of a husband, he signed a contract, too late to just burn the papers now.

“I went drinking with coworkers,” he curtly answers.

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?” Your head tilts, disappointed eyes still honed on him.

Why does he have to inform you of his every movement? Who were you to demand so much of his individuality? Alhaitham couldn’t help the frown that reappeared, directed at you, the hurdle that blocked him from entering his own home.

The grandfather clock counted the seconds in the background, two sets of eyes locked in a stare-down. One frowning and one disappointed. How long will this last?

Your shoulders slumped as a sigh left your lungs. Eyes finally finding rest behind two heavy lids.

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed.

Your back straightens again as you lean in closer, eyes recentering on his towering form. They no longer held the burden of disappointment, they twinkled with something else.

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call. I got worried.”

What wasted concern, why worry for an immortal creature?

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either, but if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text. So I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.”

Alhaitham scans over the discoloration hanging heavily under your eyes. An unpleasant sensation crawled up his spine. Phone shut off by habit, unaware of how you were losing sleep as he emptied bottle after bottle. He has to remedy the situation now, it’s what a husband should do.

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers.

Is he allowed back into the confines of his own house now?

Your hands were now positioned defiantly on your hips, brows quirked up as if expecting something more.

No.

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted.

The magic words to finally open the path into the house, words that finally returned that grin to your face. Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek.

“Welcome home, Haitham.”

Ah, he knows what that twinkle in your eyes was, sincerity.

Audiences rarely see the behind-the-scenes of a movie, with directors always handpicking which mistakes are charming enough to be shown as a blooper. Audiences don’t see the multiple scenes filmed then refilmed, they can’t experience the long hours, and they don’t know how many times lines were misread. Three years is enough time for actors to learn their lines.

“Is my drama too loud?”

Alhaitham peers over the top of the journal, focusing on your face peeking through the entrance of his library. Judging by the apron, he guesses it's almost time for dinner, the dialogue playing on the TV was just above a muffle from here.

“It’s fine, remember to turn on the kitchen hood.”

“Okay, which wine did you want to baste the meat in?”

“Top left, how long will it take?”

“Pfft, famished already? 15 minutes, you won’t waste away in that time right, Haitham?”

The ever-so-adventurous palate of yours and the ever-so-drab palate of his. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, two existences that bend and twist each other until equilibrium. Equilibrium in the form of a steak basted in red wine, rare for him and medium for you. A dinner that could be enjoyed by both breaths.

–

“Oh?” Your bewildered eyes blink at the bouquet presented to you.

A wrapped box held tenderly in your hands. Alhaitham had taken note of a certain scribble marked on the calendar, it was he who got the fourth bouquet. Placing an order ahead of time to ensure the freshest flowers.

“You said they smelled bad.”

“I’m used to it.” A half-truth.

Your lips couldn’t suppress its toothy grin, balancing the box in one hand as the other accepts the bouquet.

“Since you have every book in existence, I got you something else.” You nudged the wrapped present toward him.

Unraveling the decorative paper his eyes were greeted by the sight of a carved figure of a… what is it? Meeting your eager gaze, the quirk in his eyebrow told enough.

“It’s a hawk, I saw in storage that you used to collect these decorations.”

Ah, you found a petty hobby he had decades ago to torment a certain someone. A figure serves no practical purpose in a home, but the eagerness of your eyes was enough to find the endearing gift a place on a shelf.

–

“How does one make their blood tastier?” You pondered into his embrace.

His tongue traveled up the nape of your neck to collect the escaped drops of scarlet and to close up the wound. Your bare skin pressed against his, rising his temperature to a pleasant warmth.

He could feel every shiver as his length shifted within your overstimulated walls, recovering the overwhelming pleasure experienced just moments earlier.

What an obvious answer, stop drinking that tea of yours. However, Alhaitham prefers when you have the energy to trot through crowded walkways at dusk with him in tow. Bittersweetness is an acquired taste, one that took him some time.

“Since you have enough clarity to ask questions, I’m assuming you’re up for another round.” His husky breath ghosts over your ear.

“Wait~ I’m still sens-Ah!”

–

Over time, something as short as five years, even a trickle of water can crave a home for itself in the rocky foundations of the earth that’s existed since the dawn of time.

The side of the polished dinner table with the clearest view of the TV was your side.

The mug left in the sink with the faint aroma of tea and sweet honey was your mug.

The couch with cushions misshapen and molded by repeated use was your couch.

Such is the lull of domestic reality, each kiss at the door to bid goodbye and each kiss to welcome him back.

Nothing, not even immortality, is resistant to time.

Due to the crowd you’ve built your circle from, hunters were semi-frequent guests at his home. Much to your delight and his dismay. A husband should get along with his wife’s friends.

“Your complexion has gotten paler.” Candace’s heterochromatic eyes narrowed, her hands turning your face from side to side.

“Mmm, I haven’t been going out during the day as much.” Resting the weight of your head within her palms.

“Bullshit, he’s been using you like livestock,” Dehya snapped.

“Mmm? Not really, he says my blood taste like leaves.” Halfheartedly lifting your face out of Candace’s warm hold.

“Don’t cover for that bastard,” the Flame-Mane hunter scowls.

“Need I remind you ‘that bastard’ is still in the room?” Alhaitham breaks his silence.

“Who said you could speak?” Sapphires clash with beryls.

“Who’s home are you currently guests in?”

Even without glancing down, Alhaitham could tell that Dehya’s hand was twitching to reach for the silver dagger hidden up her sleeve. The hand then falters back down, Candace must’ve also noticed, steadfast eyes sending a warning to the other hunter.

“Of all people, why did you have to marry this vampire?” Dehya turns to you exasperated.

“Mmm,” you hummed.

With the finger pressed against your lip and your eyes wandering up towards nothing, Alhaitham couldn’t tell if you were deep in thought or just faking it.

Your pondering filled the room with silence, three pairs of eyes intently trained on your frame. Eyelids closed as you deepened your thought. After a few beats, they fluttered back open.

“Because he’s just too handsome.” There’s that shameless smile again.

The disgusted expression that plastered itself all over the hunter’s face at your response almost pushed a quiet laugh from his lips. However, Alhaitham wanted to avoid a physical confrontation from starting in his house.

If there’s one virtue you have, it’s that you’re a fair person. You perplex your friends and husband to equal degrees.

It’s now time for the hunters to start their night, much like how Alhaitham will soon report to the office. The two women and you were now at the threshold of the door bidding goodbye, their skeptical eyes every now and then glaring behind you at the vampire.

“Oh, one more thing,” your voice perks up.

Arms encapsulated two sturdy frames, pulling them close against yours.

“I love you guys.” Your words make the two robust warriors take a sharp inhale, bodies tensing up momentarily.

“We love you too, very much.” Candace’s voice forced itself to steady.

“Yeah.” Dehya pulled you closer.

After a few beats, you pulled away from your friends. Lighthearted grin lopsided on your face.

“Alright then, stay safe out there,” you chimed, waving at them.

After their figures disappeared from view, Alhaitham shut the oak door. You still peered out the curtains, daydreaming something as the stars reflected in your eyes. He observes for a moment before he collects the cups and dishes that once held tea and sweets to entertain bygone guests.

You were already surrounded by love, genuine love. Why did you sell your soul to experience something you already had? Alhaitham will save that question for another day.

Would you try saying that line to him again? Maybe this time he read his line without hesitation.

–

Alhaitham’s heavy lids shot open. The unwelcome greetings of morning birds signaled the time of day. Keen eyes scanned over the empty space beside him, sheets still trussed in the shape of a smaller figure. The bird songs rang like sirens, heightening his senses.

For once his ageless body left the bed without protest, swift steps pattering through the dim halls until the backyard came into view. Sunlight poured in through the open door, the wooden mounts perfectly framing your slumped figure.

Tired body balancing upon the basket of damp laundry, halfway from the backdoor and clothes line, you stopped to take labored breaths.

Swiftly he was by your side, towering stature blocking you from the harsh rays. Alhaitham lifts your fatigued body from the ground, giving your aching legs relief. Even with the sun hanging high in the sky, your skin didn’t absorb an ounce of warmth.

He takes you to the safety of the dim house, settling you onto the soft cushions of your couch.

“Don’t push yourself.” Alhaitham shifts a few pillows behind your back.

“I wasn’t, the laundry needs to be hung,” you huffed.

“Just call for me.”

You sounded out a whine of protest, but your breathing steadied. Alhaitham moves to stand back to full height, ready to finish the task awaiting out in the sun.

“Wait,” came your soft call.

Plucking your favorite sun hat off, you bestowed it upon unkempt ash locks still dusted with sleep. Fussing with the oversized straw brim until it stayed in place. Once satisfied you beamed, fingers caressing his smooth cheeks before placing a peck from curled lips.

“Thank you, Haitham.”

Adamant hands smoothed over the damp clothes, ensuring that they didn’t dry on the line with wrinkles that stayed stubbornly. The morning rays felt like sand against his exposed skin, but the hat bestowed upon him made it tolerable.

–

“It’s dusk, would you like to stroll through the market tonight?” Beryl eyes inspect the curled figure of his wife among cushions and blankets.

“Mmm, maybe not tonight.” You sink deeper into your couch, drama long forgotten.

“I see.” Alhaitham moves to the armchair just adjacent to you, a frequent perch of his now.

“Come here?”

Just as you finished blinking Alhaitham was by your side again. Slowing lifting your upper body just off the cushion, you pat the now free space, welcoming him to sit. He wouldn’t be a good husband if he were to deny such a request. So he sits.

Once the ashen-haired vampire was fully situated, your head found its place upon his thighs.

“Lap pillow,” there was that giggle of yours.

Alhaitham sighs, but he couldn’t prevent the corner of his lips from curling up, so he hides it with his book. This must be something you learned from those dramas again. He’ll humor it.

His cool fingers run along your scalp as his teal eyes switched between your resting face and the words printed along the aged paper.

Maybe not today, perhaps tomorrow when the rays of a selfish star kiss your cheeks.

–

The drinks were served quietly, the tavern didn’t seem as lively tonight. Perhaps because it’s the busy season, Spring air carries with it the signs of renewing life and tax forms.

“So, how is she, the wife?” Kaveh traverses the stagnant air.

What a redundant question, Alhaitham knows they can smell the fragrance lingering on his body from you, the aroma of flowers only found in a garden beyond a line immortals can cross. The scent of an ending journey.

“I’ll send some more Kalpalata Lotus tea, one cup a day should help with lethargy.” Tighnari prescribes, making a mental note to prepare the delivery once he returns home.

“Thank you, how much would I owe?”

“None, just a gift for your wife.”

Alhaitham hums in gratitude, and the table continued to play cards placidly. Throughout the rounds, his teal eyes stole glances over to a dark screen.

The group dispersed at dawn, but it wasn’t long before Alhaitham acknowledged the presence behind him.

“Alhaitham.”

He only glanced over his shoulder at the tan vampire.

“Remember the punishment that awaits those who dare disturb the cycle of life.” A threatening crackle resounded from the curled fingers by Cyno’s side.

Alhaitham already knows and Cyno knows it all too well. After all, the privilege of a good true death was stolen away from the white-haired man many years ago. Cursing the shorter man to eternity. Thus, Cyno now spends eternity punishing those who dare break the most sacred law.

Alhaitham responds with a nod and with that the two men parted ways as the rosy hues of dawn dyed the sky. You’re probably in bed already, it’ll be his kiss to announce his return.

–

In an age where humans outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to obey mortal laws. The most sacred of laws, vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings. It’s illegal, it’s immoral even to curse such fleeting creatures with eternity.

However, vampires are creatures born outside the grace of god from the very start, lurking in the shadows of iconoclasm. What difference would it make?

It’s his night to make dinner, steak with red wine sauce.

What is the difference between blood and wine to the inattentive eye? The scarlet hues could be easily mixed. All it would take is a sprinkle, drops stirred into the fragrant sauce served over the juicy meat, for you to abandon your humanity. For the ticking of a grandfather clock to stop its hands.

Who wouldn’t want more time?

A scene from a night now long past resurfaces at the front of Alhaitham’s mind.

–

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence after a moment of passion.

Your damp skin glistens under the moonlight, your chest rising and falling as the lust slowly blinks away from your eyes. Alhaitham’s hand on your back guides you down from cloud nine. You stared at him inquisitively, teal reflecting back to him as he remains silent.

Ashen hair tussled and scratches fading away from cooling skin, he awaits your answer, schemes manifesting.

You let out a hum, signing that you’ll humor his question this time, as your face rests against the pillow comforted by his woodsy scent.

–

If you had more time, he would have more time. More time to pick your brain. More time to search through the archives of your thoughts to decrypt you. More time to grovel at your feet for forgiveness after he rips the humanity away from your arms.

Alhaitham is a prideful thing, but he’s not a dense fool. He knows when an apology is necessary, insight gained from his time shared with you.

Teal eyes glance back behind him towards the living room, where your figure sat quietly, attention distracted by the pair of lovers on screen in the midst of a tense argument. Never once turning behind to glance into the kitchen, not one ounce of suspicion. The scene finishes.

–

“I was born a human.” Your lids opened again, meeting his beryl-like eyes.

Irises pure like the moonlight reflected in them. He hums in acknowledgment, fingers tracing mindless scripts into your tender back.

“I will die as one.”

He hums in confirmation.

–

A riddle he couldn’t quite solve to bypass the sphinx who guards the sanctuary of your mind. Humans are greedy creatures of conquest, always wanting more, always hungry for more. That’s why creatures like him exist and thrive, feeding into the natural greed of humans.

Every human wants more power, more money, more wisdom. Every human wants more and more and more. Every human, so why can’t you want more? It seems that the breeze who gallivanted into his office, proposing to him with a contract, won’t reveal her secret.

As it was outlined on the paper signed by two names, he shall honor your wishes for now until the end, such is the character of a husband.

Alhaitham runs his hand under the kitchen sink, shameless eyes watching as the water turns clear again, and as the skin closes up. A feature only a creature born outside the jurisdiction of god would have.

He finishes the meal with a few sprinkles of freshly cut herbs, serving the untainted sauce over juicy cuts of steak, one cooked medium and one cooked rare. He calls you over to the dinner table.

The average human life span has increased drastically in the past centuries, it’s now about eighty years give or take.

Still a mere fraction of the time held by vampires.

Eighty years, and yet you could only have a fraction of that. You could only offer him a sliver of a fraction.

–

“It’s been a while since you’ve fed, aren’t you hungry?” Your eyes peered over at him.

Alhaitham wipes the washcloth along your back from beside the porcelain tub, steamy water carrying the fragrance of Nilotpala Lotuses. The humidity of the bathroom made the shirt cling to his skin like a wet rag, but the moisture helped with your coughs.

“I’m satisfied.” Another half-truth, teal eyes scan for any signs of discomfort, he can bare it.

“Really? I’m sure my blood doesn’t taste like leaves anymore.” You rested your cheek again on the warm washcloth, eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights as you looked into his.

The gift by Tighnari sitting untouched in the corner of a cabinet. Perhaps you’ve gotten tired of the bitter herbal taste, or maybe because there wasn’t a point in drinking it anymore.

Alhaitham fought the urge to click his tongue at your brash humor, only you would worry about how you taste during the closing days of a contract. However, his lips couldn’t form a frown when you beamed at him like that.

–

On the path to work, beryl eyes landed upon a bouquet arranged with familiar flowers, the petals dyed by the rich hues of dusk. The florist was busy gathering up the displays to bring them back inside for the night.

“Excuse me, I’d like to purchase this bouquet.”

That night at the office, the staffed vampires crinkled their noses at the overwhelmingly floral scent that plagued the floor. Alhaitham just shut his office door, bouquet resting in a hastily prepared vase, such a thing won’t kill a vampire it’s such a minuscule issue.

“I’m home.” He locks the door after him.

Keen hearing not picking up the pattering of feet along the hardwood floor. Placing the flowers on the entranceway table along with his dress shoes, the ashen-haired immortal trekked through the halls, silence ringing in his ears.

Behind the solid bedroom lay his answer, turning the knob, Alhaitham feels tense muscles loosen as the steady melody of breaths resounded through the room.

You’ve been here since this afternoon, body now imprinted into the plush mattress. Still, your blood still runs and your chest still rises, even if there were faint hints of wheezing it was good enough. Quiet as a shadow, Alhaitham removes his blazer and tie before joining you under the sheets. He’s been craving sleep.

A timeless body doesn’t need sleep, ageless cells don’t require such downtime to recover. However, claiming that vampires don’t enjoy sleep would be a blatant lie. A calm way to pass the endless time offered by eternity, a nice way to escape boredom.

Or maybe it’s because sleep gives immortal creatures a taste of an experience they’ll never have. Peaceful expiry.

Teal eyes observe the ever-present curl of your lips before cool lips are pressed against your plush ones. A habit formed after six years. The flowers were still left at the door, but they’ll survive the night. Alhaitham will show them to you in the morning, and you’ll beam that grin at him in the morning.

–

Fresh flowers rested in a vase gifted by friends on the nightstand, the last flowers of Spring. The delicate blooms give way to the vibrant greens of Summer. Such a cruel season for vampires, with days so long and nights so short. A cruel season that offered your body no additional warmth.

Alhaitham’s hand brushes against the apples of your cheeks, your unconscious body protests in an instant with shivers and curls away from the thief stealing what precious heat you had. As if burned by fire, the vampire retracts his hand.

Right, he can’t be greedy. Teal eyes watch every tremor until his legs finally remembered how to walk. Pacing to the closet Alhaitham pulls the Winter covers out from storage, insulating your body with the thick duvet.

The layers form a barrier protecting you from icy touches as he smooths out the wrinkles.

When humans walk into a garden, their eyes are immediately drawn toward the most beautiful blooms. Watching intently at how the petals of the young blossom unravel, their senses enjoying the heavenly fragrance. It’d only be a matter of seconds before their inevitable greed takes over, and they wish to claim the flower as their own.

In this sense, the gods are no different than the mortals who were crafted in their image. Greedy to pluck the most beautiful blooms from the garden for their mere amusement.

Is that what went on behind the garden wall those born outside the jurisdiction of god couldn’t peer over? Alhaitham wonders if you’d answer this inquiry of his. However, if he wants answers, he’ll have to ask soon.

How should he say the last lines of this script?

Alhaitham ponders. There wasn’t a director to give a cue, no parenthetical to follow. Perhaps he’s entertaining such futile thoughts to distract himself.

With each wheeze of your chest, the itch in his palm grew unbearable. His thumb begged to dig its nail into the smooth skin until scarlet droplets trickled out. However, it never got its chance for soon your ailing fingers occupied the space, interlocking to halt its motion as gold rings clinked together.

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice babbling with a giggle.

Alhaitham’s cool skin hogged your warmth, trying to permanently sear the temperature into itself.

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” You craned your neck away with a deep exhale, exposing the vulnerable skin to him.

There’s nothing viler to a vampire than stagnant blood. Blood that no longer runs tastes rotten, cold blood is worst than bile. Your blood still ran warm, he could sense it. This time it was his incisors that itched.

Keen eyes don’t miss the way your nape prickled at the breath that ghosted over it as his lips parted. Your lids gently shut, bracing yourself. The incisors brushed against your exposed jugular, but they couldn’t break through the delicate skin. They wouldn’t. They just wouldn’t.

Like the cowards they were, they retreated. Alhaitham closes his lips, deciding to press a tender kiss on the spot instead. His free hand guides your head back into a comfortable position on the plush pillow.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.” Your eyes were open again.

“I’m not holding myself back,” he spoke the truth, the whole truth.

You were born with blood, it’s only right that you die with it, Alhaitham concludes.

The ending clause of that contract be damned.

“What a silly vampire.” Your bell-like laughter twinkled in his ears.

Yes, he is. Even after all these centuries, Alhaitham realizes he’s still no better than a fool. A shameless fool. An idiotic hypocrite ready to stray away from the principles he thought he held firm. He’ll accept this verdict, he’ll continue this fool’s errand, if and only if you continue to giggle at his antics.

Outside the window came the dirge of Summer crickets, gentle crips accompanying your fleeting wheezes. Alhaitham shifts the thick comforter up your body, smoothing out the wrinkles as the soft warmth lulls you away.

Your still fingers in between the spaces of his, your head curled within the space between his nape.

Under the moon’s pure rays, lay two bodies atop soft sheets, curled towards each other, the fleeting warmth long dissipating. Atop silk sheets, one body envisions the two buried under cold dirt and not clean comforters with hands somehow still locked together. Deep under the garden wall.

Once the cruel sun creeps into the sky, and the night flees into hiding with her stars, Alhaitham will have to make a call.

He’ll have to speak with the receptionist on the other end, with their bright customer service greeting, and get a legal pronouncement of death. Then soon after that, he’ll have to arrange the transportation of your cold husk. He’ll have to lower you into the ground alone.

However, the morning is still hours away, the moon is still here to lend her quiet sympathies. So tonight, just for tonight humor his little daydream.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

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ghosttotheparty · 11 months

Text

a place where i belong

also on ao3 // 13k words cw: verbal abuse; gaslighting; family angst; smut/nsfw

He’s in the kitchen when he hears it. Standing by the sink and downing a painkiller, shoes on, jacket on, car keys in hand. He pauses when he hears it, hypervigilant as always, freezing without swallowing the gulp of water, the pill floating in his mouth for a moment as he realizes.

A car pulls into the driveway.

He swallows, closing his eyes and sighing heavily, and he sets the glass in the sink.

He’d forgotten they were coming back today. It’s been on the calendar, marked with a vague, innocuous red dot that he’d begun to look past, to look through, to ignore without meaning to. He’s been too focused on everything else, on his own messy handwriting reading Lucas basketball - 3pm and kids theater - noon and Max physical therapy - 1pm. His weekly hours are jotted down on a piece of paper that’s stuck to the wall next to the calendar, updated every Saturday evening. Robin’s handwriting is just as bad as his, but he’s gotten better at reading it, the same way she’s gotten better at reading his.

Steve rests his back against the counter by the sink, taking a breath, steeling himself. He crosses his arms, clutching his keys in his hand so tightly the teeth bite into his palm. He looks at the ground. Follows the lines between the tiles with his eyes like he’s mapping out a maze. Or an escape.

He hears the front door open. Hears some shuffling, some muttering, the clunking of suitcases coming through the entryway.

And then he hears, “Steven, your car is filthy, when was the last time you had it washed?”

His eyes get stuck on a tile, at the corner of it. The tiles used to be a pristine, shining, sparkling white. When Steve was a little boy, they were always sparkling. Glistening. Always freshly mopped, scrubbed, waxed. They don’t look like that anymore. They’re dull now, still white but just barely grey. The one Steve is looking at has a crack in it. It’s a tiny crack, thin as a hair, branching off from the corner, but he sees it from where he’s standing.

“A few weeks ago,” he says, even though he knows it’s been months. “I don’t know.”

The house has aged with him, he thinks. His parents stopped making sure the floors were being taken care of when they started leaving. They stopped making sure the chimney was cleaned, the pool was cleaned, the walls were sturdy. Steve gave up on keeping everything in order when he started high school. When he started to question whether or not they were coming back at all instead of what day they’d show up.

Steve stares at the tile. Traces the crack in it.

“Steven, I paid good money for that car, I expect you to take care of it.”

He nods at the floor.

Quiet.

Good.

He hates when they come home. It’s like the house gets a little colder, like the echoes of the kids’ laughter get sucked out the windows. Like the last burning embers in the fireplace have turned to ash.

It doesn’t happen often, them coming home. But when it does…

“Goodness, this floor is filthy. We need to get these tiles replaced.”

He blends into the walls. Turns to mist that they look right through. Fades back into the little boy he used to be, too small to look into his father’s eyes or to reach the liquor cabinet, quiet and well-behaved and good.

They keep talking. He doesn’t hear his name. He keeps looking at the floor. He decides he likes the crack in that tile. He kind of wishes they were all like that. It took almost twenty years for that crack to appear, that tiny, thin crack. He wonders how many tiles there are in the whole room, wants to multiply that number by twenty. See if he’ll still be alive when they’re all like this one, damaged so subtly he has to look for it. He imagines it, the tiles grey and dusty with age, cracks spreading across them like a spiderweb across the floor. In his head, it’s beautiful.

And then he remembers that they want to replace them now. Because they’re not as shiny as they used to be.

Steve doesn’t feel very shiny. He doesn’t think he’s ever been shiny.

They’re still talking. Steve exhales.

His eyes find a scuff on his shoe. He blinks at it, trying to remember where it came from, and for an awful, awful second he thinks it’s from gym class, from basketball practice, from fucking around in alleyways, before he remembers.

He thinks it’s from the Upside Down. From running, hiding, fighting.

The keys bite into his palm, and he loosens his grip, inhaling sharply as his brain registers the pain. He looks at his hand, holding his fingers open to make sure he isn’t bleeding. He isn’t. His skin is red, indents from the teeth of the keys sharp in his skin, in the creases of his palms.

Fuck.

He looks at the clock across the room, and for a moment he wants to just leave silently, to walk right past them to the front door. But he doesn’t.

“Uh,” he says, quietly enough that he isn’t really interrupting them. They both look at him, turning their heads a little but still glancing at him out of the sides of their eyes, and he finally looks at them. Sees them. They look older than he thought they did, lines around their eyes and mouths and on their foreheads. His father’s hair is mostly grey now, his mother's still dark red. It looks fake, just like the pearls around her neck. “I need to… go.”

“Go where?”

“To— To pick up some kids.” He stutters. He hates stuttering. “And take them home, I— I told their parents I’d get them home by six.”

Walter sneers.

“Why are you driving children around?” he asks. But he isn’t really asking anything at all. He’s just… commenting. Like he always it. Your grades are shit. Your car is dirty. Why are you driving children around?

“I’m their babysitter,” Steve says. He used to hate that word. It felt so demeaning. He remembers his babysitters from when he was little, teenagers that only took the job for the money instead of for Steve, teenagers that would spend hours in the living room smoking or nursing beers and watching movies while Steve played by himself upstairs or in the corner.

But he doesn’t mind it now. Being the babysitter. Driving the kids around. Making sure they’re okay, they’re safe and healthy and happy. Even though he tells them to shut up, he likes hearing their laughter and relentless bickering from the backseat. Even though he calls them little shits, he thinks he loves them.

“Babysitter,” Walter repeats dryly. He’s making that face again. He’s always making that face at Steve. Like he smells, like he’s a stain on the carpet. Like he’s a dirty floor tile. Walter sighs, shaking his head like he’s disappointed. “We’re going to need to discuss your career plans, Steven, you can’t go on with your life babysitting.”

Steve stares at him blankly. He won’t meet Steve’s eye.

He’s wearing a suit. He’s always wearing a suit. Steve can’t remember the last time he saw him in anything else.

And now, come to think of it, Steve can’t remember the last time he saw him.

It’s been months that they’ve been away. Months since they’ve stepped through the front door into the boring entryway, through the boring hallway, into the boring kitchen. With no greeting, no Hi, Steve, how’ve you been? No We missed you, how are your friends? What happened with the earthquakes and the serial killer? Are you okay?

Nothing.

A comment about the dirt on Steve’s car, and the dull floor tiles, and Steve’s future career. He wonders if they even know what color his eyes are.

“Right,” he says finally, his hand clenching around the keys again. “Well, I’d love to have that conversation with you, but I really need to go, so…”

“We just got home,” Catherine says sharply, looking at him from where she’s sitting at the table, unbuckling her high heels. “You haven’t seen us in months, Steven, and this is how you greet us?”

Steve looks at her. At her hair. It’s stiff with hairspray, piled up on top of her head in fake curls. Her makeup is creasing in her wrinkles, and her lipstick is faded around the center of her lips. Steve blinks.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here right now,” he says carefully. “And I already told the kids’ parents I’d have them home by six, it should only take a few minutes.” He pauses, looking at her but feeling Walter’s eyes on him. Like he’s analyzing him, looking for faults. He can’t see the scars under Steve’s shirt. “I can’t just leave them there,” he says, pausing, thinking about how worried the kids would be. How they’d blow up the walkies trying to contact him, calling Eddie and Robin and even Nancy to ask if they know where he is, if they’ve heard from him. But he knows Walter would just laugh. “I’m responsible for them,” he finishes.

And he starts toward the door.

“When did you turn into such a little adult?” Catherine says lightly behind him, teasing. Careless.

He stops walking, fist tightening on the keys again. He’s facing the doorway, and the room is quiet except for the soft shuffling of her shoe on the ground as she undoes the buckle. And he feels like his whole body is aching and sore, because he was nine.

The first time they left him home alone. It was just a few days while they went to Indianapolis, but he remembers how quiet the house was. How he suddenly missed the smell of cigarettes and weed, how he missed the indistinct chatter of the television, of his babysitters’ voices muffled through the walls while they talked to their friends on the phone. He sat on the stairs for a while after hearing their car pull out of the driveway. Like he was waiting.

He realized after a few hours that without a babysitter, he could go outside. It was his first time outside without supervision.

He just tried to catch the fireflies.

Steve turns around and looks at them. They’re both looking back at him, eyebrows raised curiously at the way he stopped short, at the way he froze.

“Probably when I turned into an actual adult,” he says, his voice quieter than he intends.

Walter scoffs.

Steve feels like he just plunged into Lovers’ Lake again. Ice cold all over, in the dark. Eyes straining to see what’s ahead of him.

“You’re an adult when you finish high school, Steven. You’re a child.”

Steve blinks.

His gaze shifts over to him, to that fucking expression, at the earnestness in his eyes. The fucking ignorance. And Steve, inexplicably, laughs.

It’s a short laugh, but it’s almost hysterical, and he really just doesn’t know how the fuck else to react, to respond. They’re looking right at him. And they can’t see the age in his eyes, in his height, his face. They don’t even know him. He’s a stranger in their house.

They’re strangers too.

“I’m an adult, Dad,” Steve says dryly after the laugh, still half-smiling, even as the expression on Walter’s face deepens. Condescending, and mean, and judging, and even with the grey hair and the wrinkles, he’s the same man that Steve used to look up at as a child. “I graduated high school,” Steve says before Walter can say anything. “Two years ago.”

Walter blinks, making a face and looking at Catherine, who just raises an eyebrow at Steve.

“You were in Italy,” Steve says, trying as hard as he can to remain light, nonchalant, to keep his voice soft and sweet and quiet and good. “I sent you an invitation to the ceremony.”

“Oh, Steven, you know we never check our main when we’re abroad,” Catherine says lightly.

Steve looks at her. The faux kindness in her eyes. The smile gracing her red lips. Like it’s Steve's fault. Like he’s a child.

He hates her.

“Right,” he says softly, nodding slowly, looking away. “Silly me.”

“So you think finishing high school makes you a grown-up?” Walter says, amused. Steve looks at him.

“Isn’t that what you just said?”

“...Steven, you have no idea what it means to be an adult.”

Steve looks at him. At his face. The condescending shine in his eye, like he’s talking to a kid, like Steve isn’t his height. (Maybe taller. He’s too far away to tell right now.)

Stranger. Stranger. Stranger.

Steve nods. Puts his keys down.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

The phone is in the living room, near the doorway, and he closes his eyes as he picks it up, taking a deep breath before he dials the number he memorized within a day of learning it.

“Munsons.”

“Hey,” Steve says quietly. “Uh, would it be cool if you picked the kids up from the arcade for me?”

“The arcade…” Eddie repeats, his voice more distant like he’s leaning away from the phone. “Weren’t you getting them today? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve lies easily. But Eddie’s always able to know when he’s lying. Steve doesn’t know how he does it. Every time Steve lies that he’s fine, that No, my head doesn’t hurt, and I didn’t have a nightmare, I just wanted to get some water, and I feel fine. Eddie just… looks at him.

“Steve.”

And Steve always breaks. Lets the brick wall between them crumble to dust.

“Uh.” He pauses, glancing down the hall. He feels like they’re listening. “My parents came back a minute ago. We’re talking.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says. “Is everything okay? Do you need backup?”

Steve smiles into the phone, closing his eyes as his stomach flutters.

“No, just… It’ll be fine. We’re just talking.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, and Steve can practically hear the gears in his head turning.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll get the little shits, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Steve says, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“‘Course, Stevie.” Steve’s stomach flutters again. “Good luck with your parents.”

“Thanks.”

They hang up. Steve presses his face to the wall for a moment, taking a slow breath before he exhales.

He goes back to the kitchen.

Leans against the counter by his keys. Crosses his arms and looks at the floor. Finds the cracked tile and stares at it.

It feels farther away now. Like he’s gotten taller.

“You don’t think I know what it means to be an adult,” he says.

“No, Steven,” Walter says lightly. Jovially. Condescendingly. “I think you’ve lived a very sheltered life. You haven’t seen the world, or experienced anything that could push you into adulthood. But that’s okay,” he adds like it’s reassuring. “You’re fortunate, you know.”

Steve's jaw twitches. He grinds his teeth. Stares at the tile, then the scuff on his shoe.

“Do you wanna know what I think?” Steve asks quietly.

Walter scoffs again.

The sound grates at the inside of Steve’s skull, and his stomach twists. His lungs feel constricted, like they’re too tight.

“What do you think?” Walter asks. His voice is gentle, so gentle it sounds like he’s talking to a five-year-old, humoring him, playing along. Steve lifts his head and levels a gaze on him.

And across the kitchen, in the soft late afternoon sunlight, Steve looks at his wrinkles and his grey hair and his goddamn suit, and he’s just a man. And Steve wonders how the fuck he used to look up to this man, how the fuck he used to think he was anything more than this.

“I think you don’t know shit about me,” Steve says softly.

Walter’s eyes widen, and he tilts his head in shock as Catherine lets out an Excuse me!

Steve nods, staring, and staring, and staring, and he can’t look away.

“I think you don’t know shit about me,” he says again. “I think I have been… through hell. And you weren’t here.”

“Steven—”

“You weren’t here,” Steve snaps, his voice a little louder. He uncrosses his arms and stands up straight, and he thinks he is taller than his father. His stomach twists again. “You wanna know when I became a little adult, Mom?”

She stares at him, eyes wide.

“I became a little adult when you left me home alone to fend for myself,” he says forcefully. “When I was a child. And I should have been off playing with my friends, and memorizing multiplication tables, and getting my knees scraped on the pavement.” His heart is pounding now, and he can barely hear himself over it. “I wasn’t doing any of that. I was learning how to fucking cook, because there was no one else to do that for me. I was learning how to reset the heat in the house, and I was growing up when I shouldn’t have been.”

“So you’ve been through hell because you had to learn how to use the stove,” Walter says dryly. Steve looks at him.

“God, you really have no idea who I am, Dad.”

“I’m your father,” Walter says, an amused smile teasing his lips.

“Is that what you call yourself?” Steve asks. “Is that what you tell people? That you’re a father? Because, I…” He scoffs and shakes his head, and maybe he’s more like his father than he’d hoped he’d be, but he doesn’t care right now. “I gotta tell you, man, that’s gonna be really misleading when people hear that.”

“You don’t think I’m your father,” Walter says. He’s starting to get angry, and a part of Steve feels vindicated. Good.

“No,” Steve breathes.

“How on Earth is he not?” Catherine interrupts, and Steve had almost forgotten that she’s even here, looking up at them from the chair she’s sitting in. “You have his DNA.”

“Right,” Steve says. “So we’re related. Biologically.” He looks back at Walter, and they’re closer than he thought they were, but he can't tell how close they really are. Concussions and trauma do wonders to one’s depth perception. “You didn’t raise me.”

“I didn’t raise you?” Walter says, his cheeks flushing red. Something in Steve cheers.

“No,” Steve says calmly. “You left me alone with teenagers that didn’t know shit about how to take care of children, and you left me home alone. By myself. In the middle of the fucking woods.”

“You weren’t that young, Steve—”

“I was nine.” He looks at Catherine, silencing her. “I remember.” He looks back at Walter. Their eyes meet. They have the same eye color. Steve hates it. “Fathers know their children,” he says. “You don’t know me.”

“Of course I know you,” Walter snaps. “You’re my son, Steven, how could I not—”

“How old am I?”

The room falls quiet.

Steve stares back as Walter looks at him. He can hear his own heartbeat, his own breaths. The water tapping in the sink. A bird chirping outside.

And he nods.

“You don’t know me,” he says quietly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re still our son,” Catherine says haughtily.

“...When’s my birthday?” he asks. When they’re silent, he says, “What am I allergic to? What’s my favorite color? Who’s my best friend?”

“The Hagan kid,” Walter says, like it’s an accomplishment, answering one question incorrectly.

“I haven’t talked to Tommy Hagan in three years,” Steve says. “And you didn’t know that.”

Walter huffs and rolls his eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that?” he mutters. “Look, Steven, this…” He gestures aimlessly at Steve, making a face. “Your favorite color, your friend’s name, they don’t matter.” He laughs lightly, dismissively. “You wanna be treated like an adult, but these are the things you care about, Steven, they’re irrelevant.”

“It doesn’t matter that they’re irrelevant, Dad,” Steve snaps, his voice louder. “It matters that you don’t care. I’m your kid, you should care about the things I like, and— and about my friends, and about my fucking birthday.”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me,” Walter says, his eyes darkening with anger, and Steve aches.

When he was six, he was watching Looney Tunes on the television on a Saturday morning. He laughed a little too loud, and he was sent to his room for the rest of the day. Because his father needed quiet to focus on his work. Walter’s always hated hearing Steve speak, so Steve has kept quiet. Seen and not heard. Fading in the background, hiding in plain sight. But Steve is fucking sick of being looked through. Ignored.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, almost on the verge of delirious laughter. “No, I’m gonna raise my voice at you. Because I’m pissed, and because you never had a problem raising your voice at me.”

“You were a child—”

“So that made it fine? To yell at me? To tell me to keep my fucking mouth shut? That’s all fine to tell a child?” He stares at Walter. “You wanna talk about the shit that actually matters, fine. Let’s talk about the shit that actually matters.”

He’s shaking now, breathing hard and trembling with twenty years of anger that's boiling and spilling over his edges.

“You guys know about Hawkins,” he says, crossing his arms and looking at the floor, avoiding their gazes as he takes a breath.

“About Hawkins,” Walter repeats.

“Hawkins, yeah,” Steve says. “The shitshow that is my hometown, you know all the shit that’s happened here, right? The missing kids, the— the fires, the lab.”

“Of course we know everything about this town, Steven,” Catherine says curtly. “We’ve lived here twenty years.”

“You really haven’t,” Steve says lightly. “But that’s fine. You know about everything.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “You know the girl that went missing?” he asks, looking up at them. “Barbara. And the whole conspiracy with the lab and the chemical spill and everything.”

“Yes,” Walter says. “We heard about all of that.”

They’re both staring at him curiously now, quiet while he looks back.

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “I was involved in all of that.” He watches their confusion deepen the wrinkles on their faces. “She was my ex-girlfriend’s best friend. She went missing from here, from—” He gestures out the window, toward the pool that’s covered with a blue tarp. The water is probably swimming with dead leaves.

“You know anything about Billy Hargrove?”

Catherine blinks.

“The… The boy that passed away in the fire,” she says slowly, remembering. “At the mall.”

The fire.

“The boy,” he mutters to himself before he bites his lip, pausing. “Yeah. The year before he ate shit, he almost fucking killed me.”

They both blink at him, blank.

“And he tried to kill me,” he continues, “because I stopped him from killing a thirteen-year-old.” He takes a shuddering breath, uncrossing his arms, looking at them, and his vision wavers as he remembers it, as he remembers the glass smashing over his head, the floor against his back, Billy’s laughter. The kids’ shouting. “He beat… the shit out of me. Gave me a grade four concussion.”

He looks back at forth between them, waiting for a reaction, but they keep staring. Catherine’s eyes are wide, but Walter just looks angry. Like Steve is wasting his time.

“It took me three weeks to recover from it,” he says. “And you were in fucking Spain.”

His voice shakes.

“The mall fire,” he continues before they can say anything. “You know about it. Fourth of July, thirty dead.”

“Yes,” Catherine says softly.

“Take a wild fucking guess where I was.”

Silence.

Until Catherine’s voice says quietly, “...The mall.”

“Inside,” Steve says softly, looking at her intently. “With my friends, with the kids I babysit— and it wasn’t just a— a fucking fire.” He takes a shaky breath. “I can’t tell you what really happened, because I signed a goddamn nondisclosure agreement—”

“Steven, what—”

“But I can tell you,” he interrupts loudly. “That I got the shit beaten out of me again.”

A flash of light. A fist cracking against his face. An ache in his ribs, a sharp pain in the side of his neck. His own voice, rough from screaming, broken and pleading.

“Another grade four concussion. The medics asked for my home number so one of you could come to pick me up,” he says, his throat tightening, his eyes stinging. “And I had to tell him that you were in Chicago for a fucking business trip.” His breath shudders, and his vision blurs, and his hands are trembling as he gestures aimlessly, pointing to nothing. “I was driven home by a fucking government agent, because you weren’t here.”

“Steven—”

“You heard about the kids in town that were murdered?” he says, his voice breaking, tears sparking his eyes. “The kids that were fucking… broken?”

“...Of course we heard about them.”

Steve exhales shakily.

“...There was a serial killer loose in town,” he says, fingers curling into fists. “And you never even called.”

“We were working,” Walter snaps.

“You’re always fucking working,” Steve says strongly. “I got used to you not being around, but it didn’t make it any fucking easier. You weren’t here when I had concussions, when I couldn’t fucking see, or when my hearing started going, you weren’t here when I could barely move because my injuries were infected, you were never fucking here.”

“Oh, Lord,” Walter says, rolling his eyes and scoffing, glancing at Catherine. Steve’s stomach twists, and he can’t see clearly. Everything is too bright, swimming in his tears. “How were we supposed to know you were hurt?”

Hurt.

He makes it sound so… little. Like Steve had a papercut. Like he needed a band-aid and a kiss on his forehead to feel better.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Dad,” Steve says adamantly. “Obviously you wouldn’t fucking know, that’s not the problem— The problem is that you weren’t here for any of it, for anything I’ve gone through, and even when you knew what the fuck was happening in this town you couldn’t even be bothered to call, to— to make sure I was okay.”

“You said you’re an adult, didn’t you?”

Steve exhales.

He doesn’t feel like an adult right now.

He feels like a child. Like he’s five years old, searching for his parents’ attention, their affection, anything. Like they’re looking past him, through him, ignoring him in the hopes that he finally shuts up.

Seen and not heard.

“You said you signed a nondisclosure agreement,” Walter says. “Let’s say you really did— You have to be eighteen for contracts to be legally binding. So you’re an adult.” Walter looks into his eyes, like he’s sizing him up. “You shouldn’t need mommy and daddy to take care of you.”

Steve’s lip quivers. He blinks tears back. And he’s stuck here. A kindergartener in the body of a twenty-year-old, the way he was thirty when he was twelve. Unmoving.

Walter scoffs again, looking at Steve trying not to cry.

“Are you done with your little temper tantrum?” he asks dryly, turning slightly. “It was a long trip back, I’d like to take a shower and rest.”

And Steve longs to tell them. About the monsters, the dark, the flickering and flashing lights. About the Upside Down. To show them the scars that cover his skin.

“You weren’t here when I was a child, either,” Steve says, stopping him before he can leave, and Walter turns with a heavy sigh, giving Steve a bored look. Steve’s fists tighten. His nails bite into his palms.

“Steven,” Catherine says, standing from the table like she’s bored too. “That’s quite enough.”

“You weren’t here when I was injured,” Steve says shakily, his vision blurring again. “You weren’t here when I was concussed, and when I couldn’t see, and you weren’t here when I turned twenty, or when I graduated high school, and you weren’t here when I learned how to ride a bike, or how to swim, and you weren’t here when I got my first A, and you weren’t here for parent-teacher conferences— I went by myself,” he adds roughly, gesturing at himself, hitting his own chest.

“Steven—”

“You weren’t here when I had nightmares or when I got sick, I took care of myself.”

“It made you strong—”

“I was a child!”

He’s never raised his voice at them like this. Never yelled. But he’s crying now, tears falling freely down his cheeks as they stare like he’s grown another head, and he can’t help it.

“I didn’t need to be strong,” he shouts. “I needed to be loved, and I fucking wasn’t.”

“How…” Catherin huffs, her face red, and Steve looks at her, taking a hiccuping breath. “You think we didn’t love you,” she says. “But we provided a roof over your head, and—”

“A roof wasn’t enough,” he says, holding back a sob. “I used to— I used to wait after school, fucking waiting for you to come get me, to— to drive me home, I used to watch all the other kids with their moms and dads, I used to watch them laugh, and smile, and hug them, and I fucking waited for you. I waited until nighttime once, and you never fucking came.”

“Steven, that’s just irresponsible,” Walter says, and Steve hiccups.

“I was nine,” he says. “I waited for you, all I fucking wanted was my parents to drive me to school, and you were off in fucking Paris or wherever the hell you were. I had to teach myself how to ride a bike, and I had to take myself, because you weren’t here—”

“I have responsibilities—”

“I was your responsibility,” Steve finally screams. “I was your son.”

He takes a gasping breath as they stare at him again, and he wipes his face so roughly it hurts.

“I missed you,” he chokes. “I needed you.”

“You clearly didn’t need us that much,” Walter says, huffing, gesturing at him. His wedding band sparkling in the sun and Steve wants to melt it. “If you’re doing just fine now.”

“I’m not,” Steve says before he can stop himself.

He’s never said it before. That he’s not fine. Even when he was concussed, when Robin was concerned, he insisted he was okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad, Robbie, don’t worry. And he went home. Turned off the lights. Covered the windows. Laid in bed. Cried.

It’s some cruel, cruel irony that these are the first people to know.

“I’m so fucking far from fine,” Steve says. He covers his face for a moment, and for a brief second, he wishes he was bruised, purple and blue and bloody. He doesn’t know why. Maybe so they could fucking see it. So they’d believe him.

“...The first time my best friend said I love you to me, I laughed.” He looks at them, and he suddenly wants to crumple to the floor, to lean against the wall, to go to bed. Exhausted. “I never fucking heard it from you guys. Never heard it from my girlfriend. I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know what it fucking meant.”

He looks at them across the room. They’re both near the doorway of the kitchen, both turned slightly toward each other like they’re leaving, hesitating to watch Steve. Like he’s putting on a performance, like he’s pretending.

“You really fucked me up,” he says weakly, tiredly.

They’re quiet for a moment. And he doesn’t know what he expects. An apology. We’re sorry, Steve, we’ll be better parents from now on. We’ll be present in your life.

“I really don’t like the language you’ve been using today, Steven,” Catherine says. Ignoring him. The tears on his face. “It’s really no way to speak to your parents.”

But he supposes he should have seen this coming. The deflection.

He looks away, blinking tears back and exhaling, but before he can say anything, a car pulls into the driveway. He turns to look out the window, wiping his face as he catches the end of Eddie’s van before it’s hidden from view, and in spite of it all, he smiles.

That was quick.

He should have anticipated Eddie coming over as soon as he could. He probably sped on the way here.

“Who…” Walter starts, but he’s interrupted by the front door swinging open. The doorknob hits the wall with a muffled bang, and a moment later, Eddie appears behind in the entry to the kitchen.

Walter and Catherine part, looking him up and down, looking, scandalized, at the rips in his jeans, the swords on his t-shirt that form an upside down star, at his hair. And he isn’t even wearing a jacket or any jewellery, and Steve’s stomach flutters with the realization that Eddie really didn’t waste any time.

Eddie’s eyes find Steve, and he crosses the room, pushing past Walter.

“Are you okay?” he asks Steve quickly, his eyes scanning over his face, his body, lingering on the tear tracks on his cheeks. “Did they touch you?”

“No,” Steve says softly, wiping his face again, and Eddie’s eyes follow the movement. Steve thinks he must be holding himself back; usually after nightmares, he wipes Steve’s tears for him, the same way Steve wipes his. “No, I just…”

Eddie exhales, looking into Steve’s eyes, looking for a lie. He’s out of breath, like he ran here instead of drove, and Steve smiles weakly. Until Walter interrupts.

“Who the hell do you think you are,” he says forcefully, and Eddie and Steve turn to look at him. “Coming into my house.”

Eddie looks back and forth between Walter and Catherine like he’s trying to memorize them both, scanning their clothing the way they scanned his. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are pursed, and even though from here Steve can’t really see him, there’s a warm pit in his stomach, because Eddie’s so beautiful, and he came for Steve, and he’s stepping forward a little bit like Walter is going to try to lay a hand on Steve, and Steve’s never felt so fucking safe before, and he doesn’t know what to do with this, and—

Catherine gasps. Steps back with a slight stumble even though she’s not wearing her high-heels anymore. Clutches at her pearls.

“You’re that boy,” she says, touching Walter’s arm and pulling. “That Hellfire boy, you—”

“Eddie didn’t do anything,” Steve interrupts, his stomach dropping, but Walter recognizes him too, and he turns red, glancing at Steve and then looking back at Eddie.

“Get out of my house,” he says, his voice too loud, and Steve feels so fucking small, and he hates feeling small.

But Walter starts toward Eddie when he doesn’t say anything, and Steve remembers suddenly that he isn’t small anymore.

He steps in front of Eddie, knocking Walter’s hand aside before he presses his fingertips to his chest, pushing him back gently. Walter stares, wide-eyed, red-faced.

“You lay a finger on him,” Steve says too calmly, “and I will fucking kill you.”

Walter blinks, shock coloring his face darker before he laughs, but it’s a forced laugh, and Steve’s never been more serious in his life, his hands shaking with adrenaline, his heart pounding, and Walter doesn’t seem to know that Steve will do whatever the fuck he needs to for Eddie.

“You think you can kill me, Steven?” Steve looks into his eyes.

He’s smaller than Steve. Not by much, but when Steve lifts his chin, he has to look down at him to hold eye contact.

“We just had a whole conversation about how little you know me,” he says quietly. “Do you really wanna fucking test me?”

He hears Eddie exhale behind him, but he doesn’t look away, staring into Walter’s eyes, challenging him, and his hands almost itch. He hasn’t had any fights in a good long while.

Walter looks past him, breaking eye contact, staring Eddie down now, but his eyes flicker like he’s looking across Eddie’s face, analyzing him. Steve knows what he’s looking at. The scar on his cheek, the mangled skin. Steve loves that scar. It had to be stitched together, but it makes Steve think of the constellation Cassiopeia, almost W-shaped. He longs to trace it someday. To thank it.

Walter backs up finally, and Steve exhales, watching him go back across the room to stand with Catherine, who’s still watching, wide-eyed, a hand on her chest over her heart.

“Sickening, Steven,” Walter says, shaking his head and glaring at Eddie. “Really. I thought I raised you to associate yourself with better—”

“You didn’t raise me,” Steve interrupts. “Stop… acting like you were some fantastic fucking father that a fucking stand-up job of raising a son, you didn’t do shit.” He stares, breathing hard, his back tingling with some sort of anticipation. “I did. Not you.”

“So you think you’re so independent?” Walter says with that awful fucking laugh again.

“I had to be,” Steve says softly. Eddie is closer now, still behind Steve, but less like Steve is protecting him, and more like Eddie is here. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

Walter looks at him. At Eddie. He’s holding the back of a chair, exasperated, and he shakes his head.

“Never thought I’d be so disappointed in my own son.”

Steve looks away, hesitating.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. His voice is so kind.

“...Can you go upstairs and pack me a bag?”

“‘Course.”

Eddie touches the small of his back gently as he passes by toward the entryway, where he passes Walter and Catherine with a faux polite nod that’s so on brand for Eddie that Steve wants to smile.

Walter glares at Steve while Eddie goes upstairs, and Steve can hear him breathing heavily. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw him this angry.

And then Walter is standing up straight abruptly, muttering something about fucking trash in my house under his breath as he leaves the kitchen, and Steve’s stomach drops as he follows, his vision blurring as his blood courses in his veins, fingers twitching. But instead of going up the stairs, Walters passes by them, headed toward the master bedroom, and Steve stops, watching. He scoffs when he realizes where he’s headed, and he leans against the wall. He hears a thump upstairs.

“Steven, you really…” Catherine shakes her head in disappointment. She’s got her arms crossed, twisting the plastic pearls of her necklace. “This is all very disrespectful.”

Steve looks down at her.

“...You think you deserve my respect?” he asks quietly. She looks at him like she’s alarmed. “You think I care if you think you do?”

He looks away before she can respond.

Eddie is coming down the top steps just as Walter appears again.

Steve looks up at Eddie.

He’s carrying a duffel bag on his shoulder, carrying the nail bat in one of his hands, and he raises an eyebrow as Walter yells at Steve from across the room.

“Where is it?”

“Nowhere you’ll find it,” Steve says lightly, lifting a hand to catch the bat as Eddie tosses it to him as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. Walter is huffing, and puffing, and it’s kind of ridiculous now.

“What’s he looking for?”

“Gun.”

“Ah.” Eddie is almost smiling. The gun is in the back of his van, taken for target practice when Nancy taught Robin how to shoot.

Steve turns back into the kitchen to grab his keys, swinging the bat. It scratches the tile floor. When he turns back around, Walter and Catherine are staring at it, at the rusted nails and the blood-stained wood.

“What the hell…”

Steve swings it again, moving his keys so he’s holding the one for his car between his fingers.

“You don’t know me.”

Eddie is by the door with the duffel bag when Steve gets to the hallway, and he looks into Steve’s eyes. The light is dimmer now. The sun’s starting to go down.

“Come to my place, yeah?” Eddie says softly, touching Steve’s arm gently, his thumb brushing over the fabric of his jacket before he squeezes. His eyes are shining earnestly, and Steve’s chest aches. He nods.

They both step out onto the porch. It’s cold out, the air biting at Steve’s face, but it feels refreshing, like inside the house was stuffy and claustrophobic, like he’d been trapped under a blanket for too long. Eddie goes to the van, tossing the duffel bag in as he gives Steve one more look.

“Is there anything else we don’t know about you?” Walter says behind Steve, who turns to look at him again.

Walter’s eyes are lingering on Steve’s arm, like he can see Eddie’s handprint on it, and then he looks into Steve’s eyes, shining with disgust and judgement and hatred, and Steve

doesn’t

fucking

care.

“You’ll never get to know,” he says quietly.

And he leaves.

He’s vaguely aware of Catherine saying something, her voice high-pitched and wavering, and Walter shouting something about the car, but Steve ignores them, blank and empty as he gets into the car and pulls out of the driveway. He glances at the house in the rearview mirror as he leaves. It occurs to him that with the location of it, hidden by trees, away from town, Steve could live in Hawkins all his life and never have to look at the house again.

He smiles.

Eddie and Wayne live in an apartment in town now. It’s two floors above a cafe that opened a little after Starcourt, and sometimes when Steve is going to the door, he smells coffee and baking pastries. It’s nice.

He doesn’t smell it at this time of night, though.

He and Eddie arrive around the same time, and they’re quiet as Steve parks next to the van, grabs the bat and silently follows Eddie to the door. Eddie leads him in, up the narrow stairs, and they’re quiet as he unlocks the apartment, as they step inside and kick their shoes off. Steve leaves the bat resting against the wall by the door in Eddie’s room, and Eddie tosses him his bag.

Steve looks into it, rummages through the bunched-up, hastily-packed underwear, jeans, shirts, sweaters. His fingers brush cold cans that he recognizes as his hairspray, and he smiles, his stomach fluttering because Eddie remembered where they were.

“Steve,” Eddie says softly. He’s leaning against his dresser. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says easily.

“Steve,” Eddie says again, almost whispering.

“I am, Eddie,” Steve says, looking up at him, his hands falling still on top of the bag. Eddie’s eyes are shining with concern, and his arms are crossed. “I really…” He trails off, looking at the ground.

It’s hardwood, the wood faded and creaky, and there are a few gaps between the floorboard. He can see the nails in them, shining in the dim light of Eddie’s room, and it makes Steve think about the tiles in the kitchen at his parents’ house. Faded and dull and cracked because they’ve been walked on. Used.

“I feel great,” he says, looking back at Eddie, half-smiling.

Eddie’s expression softens.

“Just tired,” Steve adds, looking away. “I haven’t… cried. In a while.”

“You wanna lay down?”

Steve hesitates.

“...Can I borrow a sweater?”

Eddie smiles.

“‘Course, Stevie.”

Steve likes it when he calls him that.

It makes him feel little, but not in the way his parents make him feel. Not little like a little boy, like he has to stay quiet, stay still, like he can’t ask for a second serving of dinner or turn the volume of the television up past three in case he pisses them off.

Little like Eddie will take care of him.

Which he does, even though he has no idea how it really affects Steve, how it makes butterflies erupt in his belly every time he touches him, every time he calls him Stevie. He has no idea how hard Steve is crushing on him, and a part of Steve hates him for it. For how sweet he is, how kind.

Because there are nights he’ll call after a nightmare and Steve will look out at the moon while he listens to him cry, while he listens to Eddie tell him he called because in the dream he lost Steve, because he needed to make sure he was okay.

Because Eddie touches him in ways no one else does, in ways no one else ever has. In ways Steve wouldn’t ever let anyone.

He blushes every time he remembers that night, the night he’d spent after staying up too late watching movies with Eddie. He’d had a gruesome nightmare, but as soon as his eyes opened he couldn’t remember what had happened. But Eddie was there, tentatively touching his hand, eyes wide awake, saying Stevie. Stevie. I’m right here. You’re okay. And Steve had just cried, reaching out to Eddie, who took him in his arms.

He held Steve until he stopped crying. And then he kept holding him. Steve had pushed his face into Eddie’s chest, gripping his shirt, listening intently to Eddie’s heartbeat. It was a little fast, but it still helped.

And then Eddie pushed a hand into Steve's hair.

Steve was already falling asleep, and he had let out a soft hum. Eddie pulled his hand away, apologizing.

Sorry, I know you don’t like your hair being touched.

And even half-asleep, Steve spoke.

Only you. Please.

Eddie pushed his hand back into his hair gently. Steve hummed. Eddie’s fingers twisted around the strands carefully as his other hand slid up Steve’s back, and Steve just fucking melted. He let out a whine that he could barely hear, and Eddie’s fingers curled into a fist, gripping his hair in a tightening fist until it almost hurt, and Steve groaned.

Too hard?

Mm. Feels good.

Eddie kept doing it until Steve fell asleep, pulling his hair, squeezing his fist in it, tugging until Steve’s scalp ached dully, and when Steve woke up, Eddie was still asleep, his hand still in Steve’s hair. And then it was normal, every time they slept in the same bed or sat too close on the sofa during movie nights, Eddie’s fingers would find Steve’s hair again.

They both change. Eddie tosses Steve some sweatpants along with the sweater, and Steve smiles, glancing up at Eddie as he changes, facing away from Steve. He’s paler than Steve, and Steve kind of wants to see what their skin would look like side-by-side, pressing close. His scars are mesmerizing. Steve wants to trace them with his fingertips, with his lips and tongue.

Eddie beckons to Steve when they’re climbing into his bed, and Steve sighs. They move into their normal position, Eddie leaning against the wall, Steve between his legs, back to his chest.

He feels little again.

Eddie’s arms wrap around him, hugging him tightly, and Steve lets his head fall back to his shoulder, sighing. He slides his hands over Eddie’s forearms. He’s wearing a sweatshirt, and the fabric is soft. Steve plays with one of the folds, looking around the room, and he realizes they haven’t communicated at all about how long Steve is staying here.

His bag is on the floor by the dresser. It blends right in with Eddie’s dark clothes littered around the floor and hanging out of his drawers, with the dark rug that Eddie bought when he moved in.

Steve’s eyes trail across the wall, across the sliding doors of the wardrobe that are partially open, the interior hidden in shadows. At the CORRODED COFFIN tapestry that’s pinned up, the Judas Priest poster on the back of the door. The photos and magazine pages and posters that are covering the old, faded wallpaper. Eddie’s lamps have a golden glow, and it makes everything look warm. Steve loves it here.

“How long am I staying here?” Steve asks softly, and Eddie snorts, arms tightening, burying his face in Steve’s neck.

“Forever?” he says. “I hope?”

Steve’s stomach flutters.

“You want me to stay forever?”

“Mm.”

Steve exhales when Eddie’s hand finds his, and he watches, spreading his fingers to lace with Eddie’s. His hand is a little cold.

“Sounds nice,” he says quietly. Eddie hums. He sets his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“You still feel okay?” he asks softly, his voice soft and breathy next to Steve’s ear.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. He feels so okay. Here in Eddie’s room, in his clothes, in his arms. “I feel good.”

One of Eddie’s arms reaches across his chest like he’s keeping him secure, and he rubs Steve’s upper arm, squeezing gently.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

Steve takes a breath, unlacing their fingers to trace the back of Eddie’s hand.

“It was kind of, like. A lot of stuff.”

“Tell me, Stevie.”

Steve closes his eyes.

“They, uhm. Came back and just… started telling me my car was dirty, started saying the— the kitchen floor was dirty, that they should get the tiles replaced. They didn’t even say hi.”

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes.

“And when I tried to leave, I had to, like, explain I had to pick up the kids, and Dad started, just, berating me for babysitting, and Mom made this… comment. That I was acting like an adult. And when I said I am one, Dad…” He exhales, pressing closer to Eddie, whose arms tighten. “Said I’d be an adult when I graduated high school.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment before,

“What?”

“Yeah, they don’t— they don’t even know how old I am.”

“Holy fuck, Stevie,” Eddie says softly, squeezing him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve ignores the butterflies that erupt in his stomach.

“It’s…”

“You don’t have to say it’s fine.”

“...It’s not fine.”

“‘S right.”

“I tried… I tried telling them, like— showing them how they just don’t know me, but they just— everything I fucking said, they just… Tried to make it so it wasn’t their fault. Pretended it was no big deal, even though— even though it is, I…”

“It is,” Eddie murmurs softly. “It matters to you, they never treated you right, Stevie.”

Steve exhales shakily, relaxing against him again.

“They’re so fucking condescending,” he says after a moment, his voice softer. Eddie rubs his arm gently, reassuringly. “He always does this thing, where, like… If I point something out, or I— I do something, he pulls this bullshit, and he’ll say, like, Oh, let’s say that’s true, as though I don’t fucking know, like I didn’t just fucking tell him.”

Eddie lifts a hand and reaches to touch his hair, running his fingers through it gently.

“He said I’d be an adult when I graduate high school, and then as soon as I told him I did, and I am, suddenly I actually know nothing about adulthood and I haven’t experienced the world, and I’m— Whose fucking fault is that? They never took me along on any of their fucking trips, they left me in fucking Hawkins, Indiana.”

Eddie plays with his hair, listening to him talk. His fingers are so gentle.

“He said I was having a temper tantrum,” Steve says, looking across the room. Eddie’s hand tightens, tugging gently. “I just… They make me feel like— like such a child. And it’s bullshit, because how can I feel so fucking little when they never treated me like I was little when I was?” he rambles. “They acted like I was a grown man when I was a kid, they acted like I knew how to live my life, but they were never there to show me how. And now I am grown, but they tell me I’m disrespectful, and that I’m having a tantrum, and…”

“Take a deep breath for me,” Eddie says softly.

Steve inhales slowly, closing his eyes, and he exhales after holding it for a moment, relaxing against Eddie again, who murmurs a soft, “There you go.”

“Can I tell you something?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve nods, holding his forearm with both hands as his fingers drag through his hair slowly. “...You did everything fucking right, Stevie.”

“...You think?”

“Jesus, yeah. They’ve never treated you the way you deserve, Steve, you have every fuckin’ right to stand up for yourself, to— to tell them to go fuck themselves.”

Steve exhales again, a feeling settling in his chest.

“I hate them,” he says quietly.

“Me too.”

“And I hate that fucking house.”

“You’re here now.”

Eddie tightens his fist in his hair, and Steve sighs, closing his eyes.

“Love you,” Eddie says softly. Steve squeezes his eyes shut for a second.

Eddie says that a lot. Every time they say goodbye, every time Steve does something stupid, every time either of them has a nightmare.

It was a nightmare that prompted it the first time. Eddie had slept over at Steve’s, and Steve woke up to Eddie crying in his sleep, his body shaking as he cried into the pillow, whimpering and clutching at the blanket. Steve woke him up carefully, touching his face, his hands, his arms, squeezing as gently as possible, whispering his name. Eddie woke after a minute, his eyes finding Steve in the dim moonlight, and before Steve could even say anything, he was reaching out for him, sobbing and pressing his face into Steve’s chest as Steve pulled him into a hug. He whispered it when he stopped crying, as they were rocking back and forth, as Stee combed the tangles out of his hair.

I love you, Stevie.

And Steve’s world flipped inside out, and he was in pain, every cell in his body on fire, because he was hearing it, because Eddie told him, and because only Robin had ever said it to him like that, all three words, carefully annunciated, intentionally said. And also because Steve knew how he meant it.

I love you too, Eddie.

“Why’d you come?” Steve asks. “After taking the kids home?”

“Wanted to make sure you were okay,” Eddie says. “...Had a feeling.”

“...Thank you,” Steve whispers.

Eddie takes a breath, tugging again before he turns his face and presses a kiss to Steve’s temple.

He’s never done that before.

Steve feels almost sick with butterflies, and he can feel his face flushing with heat, but he can’t suppress his smile. Eddie looks at him for a moment, and then he does it again, slowly. Deliberately.

Steve exhales, letting himself feel it, Eddie’s lips on his skin, his breath warm and close. Eddie’s hand tightens again, his fist squeezing in Steve’s hair before he lets go.

And then Eddie’s lips press to his cheek, slowly and softly, and then again, and again, slowly moving down toward Steve’s jaw. Steve tilts his head, his eyes closed, and he’s scared to open them, scared he might wake up.

Eddie’s lips press under his jaw, sucking a soft kiss into his skin, and when he pulls away, his lips brush Steve’s skin as he murmurs, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

And Steve whimpers.

He’s gripping Eddie’s arm tightly, and he feels like he might start crying, but Eddie just kisses him again, moving down to the side of his neck, gently pulling his hair out of the way.

Steve bites his lip to hold in another sound, squeezing his eyes shut as he listens to it, to Eddie’s lips on his skin, to Eddie’s soft, slow breathing, as he feels Eddie’s fingers tug at his hair. He feels fucking weightless, like he’s floating in the air, like nothing in the world exists right now except for them.

“So proud,” Eddie breathes against his neck, kissing him again.

“Did I do good?”

Steve wants to jump out the fucking window.

His voice comes out weak and breathy, quiet and so fucking desperate that he flushes with embarrassment, and he opens his eyes like he’s going to look for an escape, to leave even though he just got here, but Eddie…

“So fucking good, Stevie,” he whispers without hesitation. “You did so good, I’m so proud of you.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and he exhales sharply, his head falling back as Eddie kisses his neck again. It’s wet this time, and Steve keens at the thought of Eddie’s open mouth against him, of his tongue and his teeth and his spit.

“Eddie,” Steve whines breathlessly, squeezing his arm.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks quickly, his hand pausing in Steve’s hair.

“Don’t stop,” Steve says weakly. Eddie hums softly, his hand tightening, and Steve lets out a soft noise before Eddie kisses a slow line up the side of his neck until he finds his earlobe, where he pauses, kissing it before he sucks it between his lips as gently as possible. “Eddie.”

“Alright?”

“Mm. Feel so good.”

Eddie hums quietly, and Steve keens as he nibbles at the shell of his ear, his teeth nipping gently, tenderly. His arm tightens around Steve’s torso, his other hand squeezing in his hair so hard that it hurts, and one of Steve’s hands finds Eddie’s leg next to him, gripping just above his knee desperately.

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs into his ear, like he just knows how overwhelmed Steve is, how his whole body is flooding with this feeling.

“You got me,” Steve repeats absently, head lolling back onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“‘S right, Stevie.”

He kisses his neck again, harder, more confidently, his teeth and tongue on Steve’s skin, and Steve fucking hopes he leaves marks in his path. He wants evidence of this, proof that it wasn’t all in Steve’s head like some fucked up wet dream.

Eddie tugs on his hair, moving his hand to the back of his head before twisting his fingers in it tightly. Steve lets out a broken noise, biting his lip to muffle it.

“Eddie—”

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes.

“I…”

“What is it?” Eddie whispers, kissing his jaw gently. “Tell me.”

“Need more,” Steve says weakly, his face hot with embarrassment.

“More what?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve wants to be annoyed, to roll his eyes and tell Eddie not to make him say it, but he can’t, because his head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and his limbs feel heavy, and he feels fucking high, just because of Eddie’s mouth on him, because of Eddie’s sweet words.

“You,” he chokes. “Please, Eddie, I need you, please—”

“Fuck,” Eddie exhales, tugging Steve’s hair so his head tilts before he leans down and kisses his neck, his lips brushing his skin as he speaks. “I need you too, Stevie.”

Steve stifles a whine, pressing his lips together as Eddie sits up a little, leaning closer to kiss his neck, and he’s almost kissing his throat now as Steve’s head falls back, and Steve reaches up to his head, pushing his fingers into Eddie’s curls messily.

“Eddie, please,” he says softly. “More.”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses, breathing hard against Steve’s neck. “Turn around, come here.”

Steve turns, aching when he has to leave Eddie’s chest, and he tries to keep his balance on Eddie’s soft mattress that’s covered in blankets. Their legs tangle, and Steve has to take a moment to sort them out, and Eddie giggles softly, reaching to push Steve’s hair out of his face. Steve smiles hopelessly, moving forward.

Eddie pulls at his legs, tugging him so their legs are wrapped around each other, so their chests almost press, so their faces are close. Eddie looks wrecked, his cheeks flushed, hair messy, eyes shining like he’s going to cry, and Steve knows he can’t look much better. He exhales, reaching up to trace his scar. It stretches when Eddie smiles. Eddie closes his eyes, turning his head to let him.

His hands slide up from Steve’s legs to his hips, his waist, pressing and firm and gentle on Steve’s sides. Steve slides his hands to hold his face, leaning close enough that their noses nudge together.

Eddie exhales, his eyes fluttering shut, and his hands slide to Steve’s back, pulling him closer as he murmurs.

“So fucking proud of you, Stevie, I can’t even tell you,” he says softly, nudging their noses together again. “No fucking words.”

Steve’s body flushes with heat, and he melts, his hands slipping to Eddie’s neck. He can feel the scars under his fingertips.

He tilts his head, his eyes stinging as Eddie keeps talking, keeping whispering and murmuring about how proud he is.

No one’s ever told Steve that they’re proud of him. He’s never heard it before.

But Eddie says it so earnestly, like he’s fucking reverent, and Steve listens.

And then Eddie is kissing him between words, his lips gentle and a little chapped against Steve’s, and Steve feels like he’s going to fall over with it all, his lips parted because he can barely kiss back. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his chin, whispering to him.

“So proud of you, Stevie, you did so fucking good. So brave.”

Steve’s hands find Eddie’s head again, his fingers pushing into his curls, and he sighs, listening and listening and listening and absorbing the feeling of Eddie’s lips pressing to his softly.

His hands tighten in his hair after a moment, and he pulls Eddie in, shutting him up with a hard, lingering kiss. Eddie’s hands tighten on Steve’s waist, his fingers pressing into the scarred skin, and Steve’s whole body aches. They part with a slick sound and a gasp, but Steve pulls him back in before he can say anything, tugging his hair.

Eddie kisses him back desperately, clutching at his back, tilting his head to kiss him deeper, and Steve thinks he might be dying. It feels so fucking good, and the way Eddie is touching him…

His fingers dig into the knit of the sweater he’s wearing, holding him close as his legs tighten around him, and after a moment, one of his hands slides around Steve’s side, up over his chest slowly until it reaches his neck. It feels like he’s being so careful, gentle like Steve is delicate, and Steve’s never wanted to feel delicate before, but he’s basking in Eddie’s touch like it’s sunlight. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, and their chests are almost touching as Eddie nibbles his lip the way he did with his ear earlier.

It feels kind of silly, really, in the grand scheme of things.

That they’d survive the end of the world, stop the end of the world, live through horrors beyond comprehension, and Eddie is proud of him for yelling at his parents. And now they’re making out, kissing each other stupid in Eddie’s bedroom, surrounded by his posters and blankets and the glow of his cracked lamps.

But Steve can’t think of a single place he’d rather be.

Eddie is holding the side of his face now, his fingers gentle on his skin, and Steve holds in a groan when Eddie’s tongue slips past his lips, his chest tightening.

Eddie pulls away and they both gasp for air.

“Baby,” Eddie breathes.

“God, yeah.”

“Was that okay?” Eddie asks quietly, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek, and Steve closes his eyes as they start to sting. He doesn’t want to cry right now.

“Yeah,” he says weakly, almost choking the word out. “It was so okay, Eddie, I… Please.”

Eddie kisses him again. Pulls away to breathe, resting their foreheads together.

“Want you,” Steve says softly, whispering.

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but he can’t take it back.

Especially when Eddie is kissing him like this, like he’d die if he didn’t, like he’s drowning and Steve is air. Steve’s arms tighten around his neck, and he’s shivering, chills spreading over his skull, down his spine, as he listens to the soft breathy hums Eddie is letting out as he listens to the wet sounds of their lips, their tongues. Eddie licks into his mouth, licks his lips and his teeth and the roof of his mouth, and Steve lets him, even though their lips and chins are wet now, slick with each other’s spit, and it’s a little gross. Steve doesn’t fucking care. It feels good.

He lets out a whine, letting his jaw drop for Eddie to suck on his tongue for a moment, and his cheeks flush with heat. Eddie smiles against his mouth, kissing him again.

“You still want more?” Eddie murmurs, caressing his cheek. Steve exhales, nodding.

“Please.”

Eddie presses wet kisses over his jaw, down his neck, and Steve melts, his head falling back to give him room. He shivers, tightening, when Eddie’s lips find his throat, pausing to suck on his skin lightly before he continues, kissing across the scars on his neck.

His scars are lighter than Eddie’s. Shallower. A metallic, faded pink that only stands out against his skin when he tans.

His parents didn’t notice them.

Or the scar on his chin, which Steve forgets about himself a lot of the time. It’s from that night at Starcourt. He used to stare at it in the mirror, hating it, hating himself. It’s faded so much it’s barely noticeable, but everyone knows it’s there. Steve knows it’s there.

Eddie knows it’s there.

He kisses it when he finishes with Steve’s neck, holding Steve’s face in place as he presses kiss after kiss after kiss to it, softly and tenderly, and Steve wonders if he looks at this scar the way Steve looks at his scar.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

Steve bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut, and Eddie presses his thumb to his lower lip, pulling it free before he kisses him gently.

“Do you wanna take your sweater off?” he asks quietly, whispering. Steve nods.

“You too,” he whispers, opening his eyes and meeting Eddie’s gaze. He looks so… tender. His eyes are shining at Steve, and he’s almost smiling, just barely, and his face is so relaxed, more at peace than Steve thinks he’s ever seen him while awake. “Please.”

Eddie nods, kissing him again before pulling his hands away from his face, and he reaches for the hem of the sweater Steve is wearing.

They have to separate for him to pull it up over Steve’s head, and Steve shivers when it’s off, the air in the room colder than he expected. Eddie tosses the sweater aside, his eyes skimming over Steve’s body, and he feels shy suddenly, overcome with the desire to hide his chest, his scars, the soft rolls of his belly.

Eddie pulls his sweatshirt off, and Steve watches, crossing his arms over his stomach as he looks at Eddie’s pale skin, at the scars that mark his sides, his chest. The art that’s inked into his skin. One of the tattoos is almost gone, the bare edges of it rough around the skin graft on his chest.

“Don’t do that,” Eddie says softly, like he’s scared of disturbing the quiet air. He reaches for Steve’s hands, pulling them away from where they’re hiding his stomach, and he leans in to kiss him, pulling his hands to touch Eddie. “Wanna see you.”

Steve kisses him back, squeezing his eyes shut, and he slides his hands across Eddie’s chest to touch his neck. Eddie hums, pulling his mouth away to look at him, and Steve blushes as Eddie’s eyes scan his chest, his arms, his belly.

“So fucking gorgeous, baby,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth.

Steve whines.

He pulls Eddie into another desperate kiss, and he shifts onto his knees, leaning over him, holding Eddie’s jaw so he tilts his head back.

“You too,” he says breathlessly, into Eddie’s mouth. “So fucking pretty, Eddie, you’re so beautiful it fucking hurts.”

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie pants, and he wraps his arms around Steve’s legs, holding him as they kiss, and it’s messy and sloppy and desperate, and Steve feels like Eddie is touching him everywhere, his callused hands rubbing away every bad feeling Steve’s ever had. He tilts his head, sliding his tongue along Eddie’s, and Eddie’s hands tighten, squeezing his thighs.

He slowly shifts onto his knees too, moving up so they’re face to face, and he hugs Steve’s waist, pulling him against himself. Steve groans softly, stifling it, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck again before he slides his hands over his shoulders.

And they can’t keep their hands off each other, palms and fingers sliding and pressing and touching. Eddie’s hand pushes into Steve’s hair, tugging sharply as he sucks on his lip, as his other hand slides across his back, gentle on his scars, and then he’s running his hands over Steve’s waist and chest and reaching down to his thighs, murmuring beautiful into Steve’s mouth, and Steve believes him.

They kiss until Steve’s mouth is sore, until his legs are tired from kneeling like this, until his chin is wet again, and Eddie is smiling against his mouth, still fucking talking, still telling Steve how proud he is, how good Steve was.

He kisses Steve’s neck, and Steve’s head falls back.

“God, baby,” Eddie breathes, panting as he kisses his neck again, and his tongue slips over Steve’s skin. “You’re so fucking good, shit.”

“Eddie,” Steve chokes, pushing his hand into his hair and pulling. “I need— Fuck, I need you, baby, Eddie, please, I—”

Eddie lowers so he’s kneeling, and he pulls at Steve’s thighs again, pulling him so he’s straddling his hips. Steve wraps his arms around him, letting out a sharp breath as he lowers, as Eddie licks a line up his neck. Eddie’s hand runs over Steve’s stomach until it reaches his sweatpants, and he touches him over them, gently pressing against his dick. Steve chokes, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, his other hand running up his back and holding the base of his skull. Steve nods. “Baby, I need words, please.”

“Yes,” Steve gasps. “‘S okay, it’s so okay, please, just… I need you .”

Eddie does it again, pressing and squeezing, and Steve is so hard it almost hurts, but Eddie is so tender with him, rubbing his back as Steve clings to him. They’re both breathing hard, and Steve is biting his lip to stay quiet, but it’s hard when Eddie whispers.

“Can I take it out?”

“Fuck,” Steve breathes. “Yeah. Please.”

He holds his breath.

Eddie’s hands are warm. And gentle. Eddie pulls away just enough to glance down to look, carefully tucking Steve’s sweatpants out of the way, and he’s smiling. Steve tugs at his hair, making him tilt his head back so he can kiss him so hard their teeth clash. Eddie is still smiling, his hand moving slowly, carefully.

When they part, Steve is gasping for breath, eyes squeezed shut so hard he might get a headache, and Eddie notices, reaching up and rubbing the spot between his eyebrows with his thumb.

“Breathe for me,” Eddie whispers. Steve exhales slowly, looking at him, watching as he nods, and lowers his head. A moment later, he’s letting a line of spit drip out of his mouth to Steve’s dick and Steve groans quietly, pulling him back into a hug as Eddie slides his hand to spread it. Eddie’s other hand presses to Steve’s back securely, holding him close.

“Do you like it?” he asks softly.

“Fuck, yeah,” Steve says, and he doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s so high-pitched, weak and shaky and breathless and so vulnerable he wants to hate it, but he also doesn’t care, because Eddie is holding him like this, touching him and letting him tremble. “I like it, I like it so much, Eddie.”

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs.

And fuck.

Eddie moves his hand slowly, and after a moment he shifts so he’s sitting, and they’re back to how they were before, their legs wrapped around each other. Steve keeps his arms around his neck, hiding his face. Eddie slides his other hand into his hair.

“You want me to pull?”

“God, yes,” Steve chokes. “Please.”

And Eddie definitely noticed how it made him feel just a moment ago, because—

“Good boy.”

Steve can hear his smile.

His hand tightens, his fist squeezing in it, and it’s a slow, dull ache that grows on Steve’s scalp. He stifles a groan, pressing his lips together.

“Stop doing that,” Eddie says breathlessly, his hand loosening, and Steve exhales with relief, his mouth falling open. A moment later he processes Eddie’s words, and he hums in confusion.

“Keeping yourself quiet,” Eddie says. “Stop, I wanna hear you.”

Steve blinks his eyes open, his eyes blearily finding the Slayer poster above Eddie’s bed. His vision is blurry, and he feels like he’s cross-faded, out of his damn mind with the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him.

“You don’t want me to be quiet,” he mumbles absently. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud.

“No,” Eddie says softly, twisting his hand. Steve’es eyes close again. “I don’t want you to be quiet. Let me hear you, baby.” He moves his hand a little faster, tightening his fist, and Steve lets out a whine, burying his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Louder,” Eddie says, moving his hand faster, his other hand tugging Steve’s hair sharply.

“Fuck,” Steve gasps before he moans weakly.

“Louder,” Eddie whispers, his hand tightening in his hair. Steve lets out a sob.

“Eddie.”

“There you go,” Eddie whispers, tilting his head to kiss his jaw, and it sounds almost condescending, but it wraps around Steve like a blanket. “Good boy. You don’t have to be quiet, baby.”

So he isn’t.

His mouth stays open, panting against Eddie’s neck and shoulder, letting out soft moans and whines and whimpers and Eddie’s name as Eddie pulls at his hair again, his other hand jerking Steve off, alternating between rapid and fast and slow and tender, squeezing and tugging and drawing it out.

“I love how you sound,” Eddie murmurs after Steve lets out a sob. “So fucking pretty, baby, God.”

“Eddie,” Steve whimpers.

“I got you, honey, ’s okay.” He scratches Steve’s scalp, pulling his hair.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Eddie lets out a soft noise, and he pulls at Steve’s hair sharply, tugging him away from where he’s resting his head, and he kisses him. Steve kisses back after a moment, almost lightheaded, and he clutches at him, at his hair, his arm.

“I love you too, baby,” Eddie pants when they part, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

Steve lets out a long groan, squeezing Eddie’s wrist.

“Eddie, I—”

“You can come,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s okay.”

He kisses Steve’s cheek, murmuring as Steve buries his face in his neck again, moaning as Eddie’s hand speeds up again, and Steve is crying into his neck, sobbing as his body floods with heat, as he comes.

“There you go, baby,” Eddie whispers, fingers still working, jerking Steve until he finally slows down. “Did so good, Stevie.”

“Fuck.”

Eddie’s hand finally stops, and he lets go, his other hand running through Steve’s hair comfortingly as Steve catches his breath. He tucks Steve back in his sweatpants carefully, patting his crotch when he’s done, and Steve snorts.

“You okay?” Eddie asks softly when Steve is breathing slowly. Steve hums. “That good, huh?”

“Mm. No one’s ever wanted to hear me before.”

“No?” Eddie says, running his hand over Steve’s back, tracing his spine. “But you sound so good.”

“Hm. I don’t know,” Steve mumbles. “One girl commented that I was noisy and it just… made me self-conscious, I guess.”

Eddie hums softly, sliding his hand up to hold the back of his neck, and it feels protective, possessive, and Steve could die happy here.

“I like hearing you,” Eddie says. “Don’t ever want you to be quiet.”

“Okay.” He takes a breath, nuzzling into Eddie’s neck before he kisses him gently under his jaw. “Can I get you off?”

“Mm. Yeah. ‘S not gonna take much, though, I almost came just listening to you.”

Steve giggles, lifting his head and reaching for the hem of Eddie’s sweatpants as their eyes meet. He pushes his hand under them, watching Eddie’s expression shift, watching his eyes flutter shut and his lips part, watching his shoulders slump. He’s still holding the back of Steve’s neck, and his hand tightens.

“Can I take it out?” Steve whispers.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie breathes. “Go ‘head.”

Steve does, licking his lips, and Eddie pulls him in to rest their foreheads together. Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and spits on his palm before reaching down again, touching him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, laughing lightly. “Fuck.”

“You always this easy?” Steve asks softly, whispering. Eddie hums.

“Only when I have the… hottest boy in the world touching my dick.”

Steve giggles, sliding his hand up and down slowly, listening to Eddie breathing heavily. He’s having fun. He’s never had fun like this during sex. It’s always felt like something to just do, to get done, to make his partner feel good. But even as he focuses on Eddie, he can’t stop smiling, watching his own hand on Eddie’s dick, listening to the soft moans and hums Eddie lets out. Eddie’s other hand finds Steve’s thigh and squeezes tightly, gripping so hard Steve wonders if he’ll leave bruises under his fingertips. He kind of hopes he does.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps after a while. “I’m gonna come.”

Steve kisses him. Messily, desperately.

“Come for me.”

Eddie grunts, his hand slipping to hold the base of Steve’s head, and he pants, breathing hard against Steve’s cheek as Steve watches, almost mesmerized by the come dripping over his fingers, his knuckles.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes as Eddie comes down, his grip on Steve’s leg and head relaxing. “You’re so…”

Eddie hums softly.

“So…”

“I don’t know,” Steve says quietly, pulling his hand away as Eddie softens, and he tucks him back into his sweatpants, imitating him with the gentle pat. Eddie laughs. He has a beautiful laugh.

“I’ve heard I’m a lot,” Eddie says.

“You are,” Steve says, looking into his eyes. He smiles, and Eddie tilts his head curiously. “In a good way,” he adds. “I like it.”

Eddie smiles bashfully, his cheeks pink, and Steve nudges their noses together, closing his eyes.

“...Are you gonna talk about it?” Eddie says after a few moments. Steve exhales, swallowing.

His hands are in his lap, and he looks at them, at the come on his hand.

“...I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Eddie touches Steve’s chin, gently prompting him to lift his head. He’s smiling when Steve looks at him, and he leans in to kiss him softly, chastely. Familiarly.

“Cool,” he says, his lips brushing Steve’s. “Same.”

And Steve laughs.

Eddie kisses him again, smiling against Steve’s smile, and Steve wraps his arms around his neck, keeping his dirty hand in the air as his other hand pushes into Eddie’s curls. Eddie’s hands slide across Steve’s back.

Steve pulls away.

“You are getting come all over my back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eddie says sarcastically, and Steve snorts. “What do you think about a shower to clean you up?”

“Ah, that was your master plan, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, my goal was to get you naked by getting you mostly naked.”

“Pure genius, Eddie.”

“I know…”

Steve follows him to the bathroom after they get clothes. (Eddie just gives him more of his own)

It feels nice when Eddie washes his hair. Even though he forms it into a mohawk with the soap. He’s grinning as he does it, his eyes sparkling, amused, and Steve lets him. It also feels nice when Eddie washes his body, which he does without saying anything, scrubbing him gently, tenderly, washing the soap away with the showerhead and pressing kisses to his wet skin. Steve does the same to him. It feels nice to do this, to help him even though he doesn’t really need it.

Steve kneels to do his legs, and as he does, he kisses his scars. Eddie holds a hand out, blocking the water from hitting Steve’s face. And Steve somehow falls in love all over again.

The tile wall is cold as Eddie pushes him against it to kiss him, but he doesn’t mind.

They separate to dry themselves off, and Steve stops him when he starts to scrub his hair dry with the towel. He scolds him lightly, pulling close and taking over, scrunching the ends and drying it gently, noting that he wants to get some product for him. Eddie just gazes at him silently, his hands on Steve’s hips.

“I love you,” he whispers when Steve hangs the towels.

Steve hugs him, and Eddie hugs him so tightly that he lifts him up a little bit, his toes touching the ground.

“I love you too.”

Over his shoulder, Steve can see them in the reflection of the mirror. It’s fogged over from the shower steam, but he can see the shape of them, their dark clothing in the bright light of the bathroom, and Steve sighs.

They go back to bed, arms around each other as they find their places again, Steve’s back to Eddie’s chest. Eddie kisses his neck. Steve closes his eyes.

“So what do you say about forever?” Eddie asks quietly as Steve is starting to drift off. He hums, turning to tuck his face into Eddie’s neck, and Eddie pushes a hand into his hair, holding him gently.

“Forever sounds nice.”

if you like my work maybe consider supporting me on ko-fi or looking into my commissions <3

#say it with me #This Is So Much Longer Than I Expected It To Be #oh well #steddie #steddie one shot #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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ikoinsblog · 24 days

Text

Summary: professor-student relationship is too risky.

Warnings: MDNI! Age gap, student!Ellie, professor!Reader.

Forbidden!

It hadn’t occurred to Ellie Williams that she would find herself longing for the woman at the front of the lecture hall when she enrolled at university—her start date three months ago. She didn’t usually need to long for anyone. Yet here she was, longing for you.

The sexiest woman alive.

Her gaze swept up your body as you turned your back on the room full of students, but Ellie hadn’t heard a word you said. That wasn’t ideal given the fact that Ellie would be paying off her student loans for the next twenty-odd years, but if this was what she had to keep her entertained, she would pay double. Fuck, I’d pay triple for an arse like that in my lap. She cocked her head ever so slightly—inconspicuously—and smirked. Thankfully, it was only a small class present today, so Ellie had situated herself away from the other students, allowing her to shift in her seat whenever she needed to.

She sat up straight when you turned back around and locked eyes with her. That gaze did terribly good things to Ellie’s body. Her pussy, too.

“Okay. That’ll do us for today,” You said as you rested back against the desk, your legs crossed at the ankles. You’re wearing that skirt again. The very same skirt Ellie had imagined just last night as she lay in bed. She would lower the zipper down the back of it and watch it pool at your feet. It was a shame she’d woken up alone…but very wet.

“See you all in an hour for the seminar. Enjoy lunch. I’ll expect you at the usual room.”

Ellie didn’t move. Everyone around her started to pack up and file out of the room, but no, Ellie remained. She’d managed to grab a seat at the front for the third week in a row. She clicked the end of her pen and jotted on a scrap of paper. Anything for another moment or two in this woman’s company. With her head down, she managed to catch a glance of you.

Oh, she knows what she’s doing.

Ellie watched on with her bottom lip between her teeth as you bent forward and ‘perused’ your laptop. You knew how to flaunt what you had, and it seemed you had no issues doing so either. Ellie was confident that you knew she was checking you out at any given opportunity because Ellie’s eyes always gave her away. Only this time, Ellie allowed that to happen. She wanted it to happen. You should know what you did to her.

You had been packing away, bent forward and logging out of your laptop. In a moment of what could only be described as madness, Ellie had stepped up behind you, not expecting you to push your arse back against Ellie’s crotch.

“You have to stop looking at me the way you do, Ellie.” You said, that perfect arse still pressed to her. Ellie had dragged her hand through her short hair, lips parted, watching in awe as you moved so effortlessly against her. “I can’t concentrate.”

Ellie had brought her hands to your’s hips, smoothing them over the red material of your tight pencil skirt. You remained, most definitely testing how far Ellie was willing to go. That had been a silly mistake to make because Ellie was willing to go all the way. The thought of slipping her hand up the back of your skirt and feeling your wetness, the moan it would elicit, fuck yeah…Ellie could go all the way with you. And one day, she would. Ellie suspected you knew that.

Ellie knew what she wanted, and it was the very woman wiggling her arse in front of her today. The fact that Ellie was a student didn’t faze her at all. The twenty-year age gap wasn’t an issue either. Ellie would always choose the older woman. Why? Because they knew what they wanted, and they knew how to fuck. Besides, Ellie was the mature—twenty-five-year-old—student here.

Your phone started to ring suddenly. “Dina, hi.”

Ellie listened intently, not caring if she could be seen as eavesdropping. It was Friday, and if you had plans, she wanted to know about them. Ellie was done with pretending that you didn’t want to fuck her. And she was done with dreaming about fucking You in return.

“Yes. Don’t forget the cake. It’s brilliant.”

Huh. Interesting. Were you attending a party this evening?

“No, no. It’ll be great.” You eyed Ellie, offering her one of those flirty smiles.

“Seven works. I’ll see you there. Bye.” You ended the call, your stare not wavering. “You may want to miss lunch, Ellie, but I have things to do.”

“Celebrating something?” Ellie asked as she gathered her notebook and satchel.

You exhaled a deep breath and lifted your laptop case. “Mmhmm. My divorce.”

Also Interesting. Not that Ellie would have cared if you were married. If your husband or wife couldn’t give you what you needed, Ellie would have happily stepped into that role. Affair or not, Ellie was going to have you someday. The sexual tension only confirmed that as each lecture passed.

Quite frankly, Ellie wouldn’t be at all surprised if you were the one who sought her out in the not-too-distant future.

She rose to her feet and rounded the desk. The first thing she noticed was the look in your eyes as you admired her sleeve tattoos. The second was how your breathing became laboured the closer Ellie inched towards you. “Well, congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t seem like the kind of woman who likes to be tied down.” Ellie held the scrap of paper in her hand, moving closer again. “So, big night tonight?”

“Maybe. I don’t know yet. Depends how it ends, I guess.”

Oh, she’s flirting.

Ellie knew this was her moment to strike if she ever wanted to find herself naked with you.

“Take this.” She handed the piece of paper over. “Call me later if you…want some company.”

You opened the paper and lifted your eyebrows. When you looked back up at Ellie, those eyes told a whole story. A story that likely began with ‘Ellie, fuck me now’. Oh, I wish. “Your number? That’s very forward of you.”

“I just know what I want.” Ellie turned her back on the entrance to the lecture hall, stroking a finger up your stomach.

“I’ll wait to hear from you.”

“Ellie, I…I’m your professor. It’s inappropriate.”

Ellie could only smirk at that. You couldn’t help yourself, and you both knew it. “You want inappropriate, call that number tonight, and I’ll show you just how inappropriate we can be.”

By Melissa Tereze.

What if… Part 1!

WLW book recommendations!

‘What if Ellie was character in my favourite lesbian books.’

Study You by Melissa Tereze.

‘It’s been months since Finn Ashton walked into Gillian Masters’s lecture and neither’s world was ever the same. Six weeks have passed since their last mind-blowing encounter, which was in Gillian’s office…on her desk, and both women know that a professor-student relationship is too risky, especially for Gillian who has worked for years to get where she is at her university job.’

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #wlw #lgbtq #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

Some blurb with grumpy fem reader and sunshine eddie?

He's constantly flirting with her and she only teases him or talking him down.

One time some cheerleader trying to flirt with Eddie and reader is so possesive, taking his hand and walking away. Eddie is wide-eyed, big smirk on his face and going after her with jumpy steps full of joy.

✶ ┄ SHE'S SO UNUSUAL !

summary: eddie's pretty sure he's loved you since the day he met you. you're pretty sure love is a neurochemical con job pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 2.8k warnings: none? maybe just the faintest hint of angst? a/n: let's play a game of spot the steven universe reference because a clip popped on my tiktok fyp a couple days ago and even though i've never seen it, i simply haven't been able to stop thinking about it <3 anyways thanks so much for your request! hope you enjoy!

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s loved you since before he understood what the word really meant. He didn’t know a lot of things, really, especially not as a lanky-limbed teenager trying hopelessly to navigate puberty in a world filled with assholes and uncertainty.

The only thing he could be certain of was all the love he had for you.

He’s seventeen and hopelessly stupid and you’re beautiful and eons out of his league. He concludes that having the majority of your gen-ed classes has to be fate and that making fun of you is the easiest way to talk to you without feeling like he needs to throw up.

So he takes to bothering you every day before class and sitting at the table beside you — despite the fact that it had been assigned to someone else at the beginning of the school year — until the teacher ultimately gives up and lets him sit next to you. He pokes fun at your Blondiemerch and how the same She’s So Unusual Cyndie Lauper cassette has been in your walkman for a week straight and the way you dot your eyes with pretty little hearts.

Every joke is sprinkled with the faintest hint of truth, though.

He tells you that he hates Blondie but that the shirt looks good on you, because everything you wear looks good on you. He says it’s hilarious that you can’t seem to listen to anything other than Cyndie Lauper but that he understands because he’s been obsessed with Metallica lately — and that he’d love to show you some of their music sometime. He says only children put hearts over their i’s, but that it's real cute when you do it, when you do anything.

“You’re so annoying,” you inevitably tell him with the roll of your eyes when he tells you exactly that. He can’t tell if the way the corner of your lip quirks up is from a half-concealed smile or a look of disgust.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he shrugs and knocks his leather-clad shoulder with yours. “It’s not my fault that I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s kinda your fault.”

He says it all with a playful lilt to hide how much he means each word. That he’s in love with you and has been since you were in middle school, when he had a godawful buzz cut and loving Rocky Horror Picture Show was your entire personality — at twelve.

“Love at first sight doesn’t exist,” you argue while you mindlessly jot down notes from the textbook spread open between you, dotting every i with a practiced heart. “Love takes time and work. At the bare minimum, you should at least probably know the other person — and you don’t have a single clue who I am.”

He’s momentarily knocked asunder at your words, at how profound they are. It’s like a century-old philosopher is using a pretty highschool aged girl as a mouthpiece, and it only makes him love you more.

“Well, I could get to know you,” he retorts with a frown. “You just won’t let me.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” you squint over at him.

“Yeah. That love takes time,” he echoes and a grin pulls slow at his lips. “Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart.”

When two years fly by, and you’re finally a senior (and Eddie’s repeating his last year of high school over again because the one before it knocked him on his ass), you realize that he wasn’t kidding around. He still tries hopelessly to get to know you and jokes that he’s a second-year senior only because he “didn’t want to leave you behind.”

“Couldn’t just leave you by yourself, sweetheart,” he says with a defiant shake of his head. “No way. Not with Jason Carver and all the other freaks roaming around here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re the freaks here, Eds,” you monotone as you put in the combination for your locker.

He immediately notices the use of the nickname. It took you a year to call him anything other than Munson, and now he’s moving into Eds territory? It feels like his heart might burst. But you don’t seem to notice it so Eddie decides to keep it to himself, like sunshine in his pocket, lest he brings it up and he never gets to hear it again.

He presses a hand to his chest and leans in next to you. “Ouch, babe. I’m wounded. Truly. Sorry for wanting to protect a sweet little thing like you.”

You scrunch your nose and swat his hand away when he tries to squeeze your cheek.

“Some would say I actually need protecting from you.”

“I am capable of pretty dangerous things, sweetheart.”

“Like what?” you scoff.

Eddie only grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You ignore the chill that his words shoot down your spine and pretend to be unbothered by the way they make your heart race. You choose to roll your eyes at him and stuff your arms with textbooks. “You better have a massive dick to back up that attitude, Munson, or people are gonna be real disappointed.”

“And by people you mean you, right?”

“Obviously not,” you monotone.

“Well, joke's on you, I’ve already disappointed everyone I know.”

“That’s not true, Eds—” you shoot back but then swallow the words when you realize you were about to say something too sweet. “There are billions of people in the world you haven’t met yet. There’s still plenty left to disappoint.”

“You’re real sweet, you know that?” he jokes with a smile. “Besides, if you’re really worried about the size of my dick, we can always break out a ruler and, you know, test your theory.”

“Ooh, sorry,” you wince. “I left my magnifying glass at home. Maybe some other time?”

“How about tomorrow?” he answers quickly and easily falls into step with you when you shut your locker and head towards your next class.

“I have a date tomorrow, actually. No can do.”

His heart stops and his throat swells and he forgets what words are for a moment or two. He can only blink at you for a few seconds. “A— A date?”

“Uh-huh. Jason Carver. He asked me out this morning.”

“You’re kidding,” he retorts bitterly with a scowl on his face. Then you start laughing at him and the world starts spinning again. He starts laughing too, but it’s more of a sigh of relief than anything else. “You— You are kidding?”

“Obviously I’m kidding,” you shove him. “Hell will freeze over before I am willingly anywhere around that guy.”

Eddie’s freshly beating heart starts to swell. It feels like more of an honor than it already has been, for you to want to willingly be around him.

“Oh, so you were just trying to make me jealous, then?” he squints over at you.

This time, you’re the stuttering mess as you try to figure out what to say.

He chuckles at you. “Because it worked, sweetheart.”

A couple of months or more go by and graduation nears — well, for you. Eddie’s still hellbent that he’s going to have to repeat another year, but you’ve made it your mission to get him to pass English.

He doesn’t even mind that it means he actually has to do the homework, as long he gets to spend time with you in the Hellfire room after school or share a snack with you at the picnic tables at Forest Hill.

It’s got him living in a state of grandeur. He’s hopelessly deluded, not only that he’s in love with you, but that you’re in love with him. And, for obvious reasons, you know that can’t be true.

Neither of you can be in love because you’re kids and you’re stupid and you don’t know a single damn thing about anything, let alone something as trivial and philosophical as love. It’s a neurochemical con job, everyone knows it. It’s not real.

Everyone thought Nancy and Steve were in love at one point, and then she called him bullshit at a party before fucking off with Jonathan Byers.

Everyone thought Jason and Chrissy were in love, too — that they would be everything Steve and Nancy couldn’t — and then she dumped him in front of the entire school after catching him being an asshole to a bunch of Hellfire club freshmen.

So, obviously, no one knows what love is.

And by that logic, they can’t know when they’re in it either.

So you chalk up the butterflies and burning cheeks you always get around Eddie to being a dumb teenager who’s lonely and touch starved. Because it’s not love. It just can’t be.

Eddie begs to differ, though, and he swears he’s got the test to prove it.

It’s the spring assembly at Hawkins High, which means everyone’s gathered in the gymnasium on bleachers that are not nearly big enough to accommodate everyone, doing fuck all and grateful for not having to do any actual work.

The cheerleaders do a couple of dances, the basketball team prances around the court — it’s all hopelessly pedestrian as far as you’re concerned.

You and the rest of Hellfire are located at the very top of the bleachers, as far away as you possibly can be from whatever the hell is going on below you. It checks out, though, because everyone else opts to keep their distance from the lot of you, too.

And you’re not exactly sure how the conversation started, but somehow you end up talking about crushes, and Eddie makes the too bold proclamation that you’ve got the fattest crush on him of all people.

“Leave her alone!” Dustin scolds him over the band, the only one actually trying to stick up for you. “Maybe this is something you should discuss, I don’t know, in private?”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no need. Because I don’t have a crush on you, Eddie Munson,” you tell him, stern and unwavering, as you squint over at him. Your glare follows the boy as he paces up and down the bleachers, two levels below you. “Sorry to bruise your ego.”

“Oh, so you won’t care if I tell Chrissy that I wanna take her on a date?” he asks you with a knowing grin.

“Why would I care?” you retort, then grumble. “It’s not like she would say yes anyway.”

“Well, she did ask me first.”

That quietens you instantly “…You’re lying.”

“Wanna bet?” he teases and leans down, resting his weight on the seating in front of him, until his face is level with yours. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the mint gum he smacks between his teeth.

If you were alone — and in some godawful teenage drama — you might’ve pulled him in for a kiss right there. At least, that’s what your brain tells you to do because your lips have started to tingle just thinking about it.

You hope Eddie hasn’t noticed the way your gaze falls on his own pink, plump, and very kissable ones. But the grin that paints his features then tells you that he has.

You play it off with a stoic expression and crossed arms. “Chrissy going from dating the captain of the basketball team to the town’s local freak would be an unprecedented low.”

“I’ll be sure to tell you all about our trip to Lover’s Lake tomorrow morning, sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head,” he promises before rising and spinning on his heels. He makes the trek to the lower level of the bleachers — a feat made more difficult by the crowd and the distance between it and him.

He makes sure to turn and look back at you every now and again, to make sure that you’re still watching him. You are. Of course, you are. And you hope the seething anger in your chest doesn’t show on your face.

“He’s not actually gonna ask her out, right?” Mike wonders.

“No way,” Dustin denies with the shake of his head. “The president of Hellfire can’t date a cheerleader… Right?”

Gareth shrugs. “He’s obviously bluffing.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t do that,” Jeff agrees. He turns to look over at you. “He’s been in love with you since middle school. He just wants to upset you.”

“Well, it’s fucking working,” you grumble under your breath. Your heart races and your vision swims as you watch him near the group of cheerleaders sitting on the floor of the gym.

You want to believe that he’s bluffing, you really do, but you don’t doubt that Chrissy’s asked him out.

After she dumped Jason, she’d gotten strangely protective over the Hellfire club — constantly making an effort to talk to them all, ensuring that the rest of the school wasn’t acting total assholes around them. Hell, she’s even started being nice to you and you weren't even in the damn club.

She’s been hanging around with Eddie a lot more lately, catching up in the library and ranting about tests between classes. Everyone’s seen it. You’ve seen it. And it’s made you unbelievably jealous.

Maybe you never noticed it before now because you used to be the only girl interested in talking to Eddie. But now he’s got the head cheerleader around to keep him company, to ask him out on fucking dates, and it leaves you seething in your rage.

And if love is anger, then you’re head over heels for Eddie Munson.

You rise suddenly from your seat and shove your way through the bleachers, muttering lackluster excuse me’s under your breath as you go and elbowing those who refuse to get out of your way.

You reach Eddie just before he’s about to tap on Chrissy's shoulder. You take that hand and nearly jerk it from its socket the way you pull at him. Eddie is stunned, for all of half a second, thinking it must’ve been a fuming Jason Carver at the force of the grip around him.

But it’s just you, all but dragging him out of the gymnasium with the strength of ten men in one angry teenage girl, and it makes him smile so hard it hurts.

He traps the grin between his teeth and locks eyes with the rest of Hellfire from across the room. He brings two fingers to his forehead in salute before he’s pulled out of the gym entirely.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he teases as you lead him down a long hallway. “Thought you didn’t give a shit if I asked her out?”

You don’t respond to his teasing. You just keep tugging him by his wrist through the empty school. He’s not even sure if you’re even breathing just now, or if you’re moving strictly on autopilot and rage.

You shove him into Mr. Kamisnky’s vacant classroom and lock the door behind you.

Eddie’s chest rises and falls with the heavy breath he exhales. “Well, shit, sweetheart... If I knew making you jealous was all I needed to do to get you alone, I would’ve done it a long time ago—”

“Say you didn’t mean it,” you interject, less than amused at his teasing.

“…What?”

“That you wanted to take Chrissy on a date,” you elaborate with arms crossed over your chest, protecting yourself, your heart. “Say you didn’t mean it.”

And Eddie laughs. He fucking laughs. Like everything’s a joke to him, like the mere thought of you being heartbroken over him liking Chrissy is funny to him.

It’s not. Well, at least not that bit. It’s laughable to him that you would even think he wanted anybody but you after he’s spent so many years fawning over you.

“Of course, I didn’t mean it,” Eddie scoffs. He tries to take a few steps closer to you, but you back away, not believing him. He softens. “I just wanted to make you jealous, sweetheart. I didn’t wanna… hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you monotone.

The boy’s brows furrow. “Hurt your feelings or make you jealous?”

“…Yes.”

A smile pulls slow at his lips. He tries to hide it but fails miserably. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I just wanted to see how you would react. And I am very pleased by this reaction… Even though my wrist feels like it’s broken.”

“Sorry,” you murmur to yourself, already embarrassed at how angry you’d gotten.

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie declines with the shake of his head. This time when he walks toward you, you don’t back away from him. You even let him take your elbows in his hands and rub his thumbs over your warmed and jealousy-prickled skin.

“Actually, you know what, do be sorry,” he corrects playfully. “And make it up to me by taking me out. Somewhere fancy.”

You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile.

“Benny’s Burgers?” you offer after a moment.

“Ooh. Burgers, fries, a milkshake, and a hot date?" he lists with a nod of approval. "You really know how to get a guy to swoon, don't ya sweetheart?”

#published by bug #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie spaghetti drabble #st drabbles #bug's blurb sleepover

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yndrgrl · 10 months

Text

dilf! katsuki bakugou x fem! reader headcannons

quirkless! au. lowkey yandere. dom! katsuki.

warnings: nsfw, age gap, size kink, swearing, face slapping, daddy kink, multiple creampies, breeding kink

✧ dilf! bakugou is a sex god among men, to put it lightly. it was strange seeing such a good-looking man doing such mundane tasks like waiting for his coffee.

✧ dilf! bakugou first noticed you as the regular barista who takes his order every time he comes in.

✧ dilf! bakugou is well aware of his godly looks. he is also well aware of how you give him just a bit more attention than the other patrons.

✧ dilf! bakugou notices how you give him just-a-bit wider smile or when you utter his name while jotting it down on the cup.

✧ you couldn't help but fantasize about your customer, dilf! bakugou. how could you not? his golden hair was streamed with grey, scars adorned his skin, & he was just such a gruff man who could take care of anything for you.

✧ you'd spark up unnecessary conversation with him, something you never do with other customers.

✧ one day, dilf! bakugou mentions his kid, & you deflate.

✧ it's not like anything was going to happen between us, you rationalized, shooting him a smile as you gave him his coffee. you wished him a good day, & ultimately gave up on trying to impress him.

✧ dilf! bakugou noticed this almost immediately. just a day ago you couldn't bare to lock eyes with him, & now you can just stare at him with a polite smile? what happened?

✧ dilf! bakugou was so handsome, rich, & fortunate that he could have any woman in the world, but all he wanted was his cute, young barista.

✧ it was a particularly busy morning, the next time he decided to come in.

✧ dilf! bakugou zoned out as he waited for his turn to order, to see your pretty face. he was motionless until he heard the conversation between you & the customer right before him.

✧ "oh, so you're single?" he asked. "yeah i am, why?" you asked back.

✧ you were innocent & oblivious to just how good you looked, even with your hair messily thrown up & in your work apron. it made dilf! bakugou only want to ruin you more.

✧ "i'd love to take a cutie like you on a date tonight," the other guy told you with a smirk. your face bloomed red. "um-"

✧ before you had a chance to respond, dilf! bakugou barked, "some of us are in a hurry, kid! order your shit, & leave."

✧ the guy talking to you scoffed at dilf! bakugou, calling him an old man before turning his attention back to you. "i'll pick you up after your shift."

✧ "you're not actually gonna go out on a date with that sleaze, are ya?" dilf! bakugou questioned even though the other guy wasn't out of earshot.

✧ "i don't know," you answered with a shrug & a laugh, "i haven't decided yet."

✧ "don't waste your time. guys that age don't know how to please women like you." & with that said, dilf! bakugou walked to the waiting area for his coffee, leaving you to think about what he might've implied.

✧ at the end of your shift, you still haven't decided whether you wanted to go on the date or not.

✧ it's not like you had a choice though. dilf! bakugou already made up your mind for you.

✧ you come out of the back with your bag slung over your shoulder & your apron off when someone stood in your way.

✧ "you're not gonna go on a date with him," dilf! bakugou told you, but you thought it was a question.

✧ you laughed, "well i'm not getting any younger, i gotta get some action." dilf! bakugou wanted to throw up at the thought of you getting any attention from anyone other than him.

✧ "no, you're not going on a date with him. you're coming with me."

✧ that's how you wound up inside of his pent house with him in between your legs, grazing your thighs with his lips.

✧ "wh-what about your son-"

✧ "at daycare."

✧ "what about your wife?"

✧ "i don't have a wife," he said, watching your tense posture relax. so that's what was holding you back, he thought.

✧ he kissed your wet heat through your panties, then, with his teeth, pulled them down. he maintained eye contact with you the entire time.

✧ dilf! bakugou knew what he was doing, it was clear as day. he was the best you'll ever have. all those other boys will never compare to such an experienced man

✧ dilf! bakugou lapped your juices, circling his tongue around your clit, & fingered your hole in preparation for him.

✧ "you think you can handle me, hm?" he questioned once he made you cum all over his face & fingers for the third time.

✧ dilf! bakugou stood up on the edge of the bed with your legs -barely- wrapped around his waist, still awaiting an answer. "c'mon baby girl, answer me."

✧ all you could do is nod. you were slipping into a mind-numbing state with drool dribbling down your chin & mascara running down your cheeks.

✧ dilf! bakugou raise his hand & lashed it across your face. you gained consciousness back as he growled, "if you can't handle this, i will find some other pretty girl who can." that was a lie, he just wanted to see you jealous.

✧ "n-no! i can be your good girl, daddy."

✧ even more blood rushed to his cock when you called him that. dilf! bakugou couldn't help but smirk over your quivering figure.

✧ he ravished your body as soon as he stuck his big dick inside of you.

✧ he loved watching your brain turn into mush as you moaned, "sl-slow down daddy! you're t-too big for me."

✧ & it was true. dilf! bakugou was nearly 300 lbs of pure, natural muscle, 6 ft 5, & was manhandling you the entire night.

✧ when he wanted to switch positions, he'd simply pick you up like you were nothing & force you into what he wanted.

✧ now you were held up by him, arms around his neck, scratching at his back while he carried you.

✧ your juices mixed with his three cream pies he gave you dripped onto the floor-- not that either one of you cared.

✧ the first cream pie he gave you was while you were cumming from his abusive missionary

✧ the second was when you were bent over the bed, taking all of his forceful thrusts until they became jagged & sloppy, spilling his seed into you.

✧ the third was when he took you from behind in front of his full length mirror. one of his large hands dug into your hip while the other was grasping your hair, pulling you up.

✧ by this time, you were in a permanent state of pleasure. you eyes crossed & your tongue hanging out of your mouth cum flowed down your thighs like a waterfall.

✧ "d-daddy, i want more~"

✧ "you want more what, cum dumpster?"

✧ "make me a mommy! fill me with more cum! i want your babies!" you don't even know where his came from. before dilf! bakugou, you had no desire to have children. you were just trying to finish your sophomore year of college.

✧ dilf! bakugou wanted nothing more than to impregnate you though. make sure no other man even thinks that you're single. he wants you swollen with his kid while he takes care of you.

✧ dilf! bakugou demanded as he pounded your pussy, "tell me you're mine forever, baby girl~"

✧ "i-i'm yours forever, daddy!" you screamed through thrusts & your orgasms. you assumed it was all pillow talk until you saw that dark, possessive look dilf! bakugou shot you.

✧ "that's right, y/n. you're mine, only i can take care of you."

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eroselless · 2 months

Text

MOTH TO A FLAME

Chapter One: The invitation

Chapter Summary: After starting a new job at a prestigious museum in London, you form a close friendship with Helaena Targaryen. You're surprised when she invites you to stay at her family's estate for the summer holidays. [1.4k]

[aegon targaryen x reader, modern!HOTD AU ]

masterlist

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language, smut in future chapters, and talk of bugs. If there's any I missed let me know!

note: this is my first story in a really long time, I hope y'all like it! also, I actually have no idea how curating a museum works, this is just a general idea of what I thought it might look like lol

You're running out of breath when you reach the back doors of the museum. Your skin feels moist from a mixture of light rain and sweat beading on your skin from your run from the station. You quickly plug in the code to the door and step through, quickly shaking off your jacket and putting your things in your assigned locker. You check your watch and wince at the time, making your way out of the employees-only area into the lobby of the museum. The museum always has a scent of dried paint mingled with a faint aroma of coffee emanating from the café at the entrance of the museum.

You spot Helaena from a distance. She’s leaning against a pillar, fiddling with her key card that hangs around her neck. As soon as she sets her eyes on you, her eyes light up. She straightens up and moves to meet you halfway, pulling you into a hug.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it.” she laughs. You roll your eyes, fixing stray hairs. You can’t help the smile that makes its way onto your face.

“I swear Ari has it out for me” you sigh. Ariadne was your Australian shepherd puppy. She was the cheekiest little thing, taking socks, shoes and now apparently your keys to play with. “I swear I’m always putting the keys in the key bowl when I get home but she manages to take them and hide them.”

“Sure,” Helaena says, leading you into the Entomology department. “Blame it on the dog.”

You met Helaena when you started working at the museum three months ago. You had been job searching for ages and finally came across a job that happened to be in a country completely different than the one you resided in. You packed your bags and took a leap of faith, moving to London on your own, only accompanied by your trusty puppy.

You had always loved the idea of working in a museum and hadn’t thought it all the way through so where you arrived you were placed in the entomology department alongside Helaena. Together, you carefully managed the ever-growing collection of beetles, butterflies and moths, dragonflies and damselflies.

You settled into your respective desks, papers stacked high and your computer buzzing with incoming research articles and showcase preparations. Helaena sits across from you, fiddling at her own desk, pulling up her email.

“Oh shit, did you see the new collection of dragonflies we have coming in?” she asked, fingers suddenly dancing over her keyboard. “It looks like they’re butterfly dragonflies.” She enthuses and you both gradually get lost in your screens.

After a couple of hours, the day slows down and starts to go by agonizingly slow. There was only so much excitement a small batch of dragonflies could provide and you found yourself mindlessly combing through different online stores.

After lunch, you hadn’t much left to do anyway. Showcases were mostly set up and you had already sifted through and organized a set of potato beetles you hadn’t done last week. Your eyes flicker over to Helaena as walks back to her desk, sliding her chair from one point of her L-shaped desk to another. She’s holding her phone up to her ear, listening fervently to the person on the other side. She nods every now and then, letting out small mhms. Her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, her lips in a tight line as she uses her free hand to jot down notes on a pad. She nods one last time before bidding the person on the line goodbye and placing her phone down on her desk.

You watch her with your hands tucked under your chin, eyebrows raised as if to say sooo. She leans back in her reclining desk chair, stretching her feet out in front of her. She lets out a whistle and taps her fingers on the wood of her desk.

“You got anything planned for the holidays?” she asked, squinting at you, lips pursed out. You pretend to think for a second, eyes floating up to the ceiling before answering.

“I don’t think so. I don't have the funds to fly back home just yet so I’m gonna be here.” You state. A smile breaks out on Helaena’s face and she claps her hands.

“Great,” she begins, sauntering over to your desk and leaning over it. “Then you can come with me to the family estate.”

You blink, caught off guard at the invitation. “Your family’s estate? You’re sure I wouldn’t be impeding?”

“Babe, no!” she says, shaking her head. “It’ll be a blast, the property is huge and I think my mom is even holding a gala or some shit.” Your mind races at the thought of spending the holidays with Helaena, surrounded by the English countryside and the hospitality of her family. You knew very little about her family, having only heard of her brothers in fleeting comments. You had briefly met her mother over the phone, having been at Helaena’s apartment one night when she face-timed her.

“Okay,” you say, a smile growing on your lips. “I’d love to come.” Helaena’s smile only widens, her arms going around your shoulders in a tight hug.

“I’ll let Mum know!”

The sun streamed through your apartment window as you pull clothes out of your wardrobe, tossing them at Helaena. She sits perched on the edge of your bed, gingerly folding t-shirts and pants into your bag. There were tops strewn across your bed, shoes littered all over the floor and small bags of toiletries and makeup set next to your nearly empty suitcase. You can hear Ariadne chewing on a shoe you gave up trying to get her to stop playing with. At this point, she only really played with household items instead of the actual toys you bought her. Helaena winces as you pull out a dress and hold it up to your chest.

“What about this?” you ask, swaying slightly. Her face stays in a slight grimace, shaking her head and laughing.

“We need to get you some new dresses, these look like they were taken off of a raggedy Anne Doll.” You let out a boisterous laugh, shoving her shoulder and you tuck the dress back into the wardrobe. She pulls a knitted sweater from the edge of your bed and tucks it tightly into your bag.

Once your outfits seem coordinated enough, Helaena begins to place them carefully in your suitcase, making sure you have enough to last you all the days you’re there. She speaks up once you flip your suitcase closed, struggling slightly with the zipper.

“So I know you sorta met Mum but I know you’ll love her now that you’ll be staying for a few weeks.” She states. “She’s been planning this gala for my father, for his retirement, for months. It’s going to be huge, my sister is even coming in from out of town with her children, everyone and their mother is going to be there.”

You let out a chuckle and bounce slightly on your suitcase, climbing over it, trying to press it shut with your knees. Helaena climbs on with you, raving about life at the estate, describing the sprawling gardens, her mother’s immense library of rare books and the little town that lies nearby.

“You know we could even get you a fancy dress from one of the shops in town, it's a tiny town but it has loads of shops.” you struggle but finally manage to zip up the bag, and you sit on top of it a little breathless.

“Oh! Aemond and Daeron are going to be there too, though I’m not too sure about Aegon” she states, a thoughtful look on her face. It almost seems like she wants to say something more but waves her hand in the air dismissively. “But never mind that.”

You can't help but feel a flutter of excitement bloom in your chest at the thought of all that you’ll be doing. “I can’t wait for it all,” you say with a soft sigh, eyes shining with anticipation.

a/n: soo no Aegon quite yet but he’ll be appearing in the next chapter fo sho. I’m currently working on it but it’s hell week at uni right now so I won’t have too much time to sit down. If you guys are enjoying it, do not hesitate to reblog and let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapter!

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii smut #modern aegon #hotd fanfic #tom glynn carney x reader #moth to a flame #eroselless

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wooahaes · 7 months

Text

the aftermath of trick-or-treating

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

genre: fluff. single dad!jeonghan au.

word count: 0.7k~

warnings: candy mention. slightly suggestive comments from jeonghan that lead nowhere (he's just here to tease a little hehe). single dad jeonghan (bc hes. cute :( <3)

daisy's notes: @twogyuu hi holly

The sound of tiny feet running around your home was enough to tell you that Jeonghan had finished trick-or-treating with his daughter. And if that hadn’t been enough to clue you in, the weight of your soon-to-be step-daughter throwing herself into your lap definitely was.

Jeonghan had chuckled to himself as he made his way inside, carrying that neon orange plastic pumpkin in one hand and his daugther’s coat in the other, a bag hanging off of his shoulder. “Ha-eun,” he called out, “be careful with the pumpkin hat.”

(You didn’t fail to notice that Jeonghan donned a pair of kitty ears—Ha-eun could get her way with puppy dog eyes any day.)

She merely let out a giggle, hugging you tight, her squishy pumpkin costume folding around her. She’d peeked up to your TV, noticing the frozen still on the screen. “What are you watching?”

“Nothing, baby,” you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Scary things for adults. Can I see your pretty costume?”

With a gasp, she began to beam at the idea of showing off the costume Jeonghan had bought her. She hopped up, slowly turning around to show off the soft orange dress with little details to make it obvious it was a pumpkin—lines down it and leaves around the neckline. Jeonghan had painted her face to look like a jack-o-lantern, too. Jeonghan had told you that she picked it out herself after a long bout of deliberation at the store. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be a princess, a pumpkin, or a skeleton this year. He’d tried to suggest that she could be all three if she went to Uncle Cheollie and gave him her puppy dog eyes, but she’d merely giggled and decided she would be a pumpkin because she’s always a princess (as told to her by Uncle Shua).

“How cute,” you mused aloud, smiling to yourself. Jeonghan had made his way over, settling into the spot next to you.

He called out to her, picking up the tiny backpack that clearly belonged to her, “Why don’t you get changed? I’ll come help you wash off the paint and we can watch Halloween movies together.”

Ha-eun was strikingly mature for her age, and agreed easily due to the promise of movies (and snacks—she knew snacks would always be included in that promise). She ran off to get changed in your bedroom, the door shutting a moment later, and Jeonghan immediately turned to steal a kiss from you.

“I nearly took her to Joshua’s for tonight,” he mumbled. “I’ll just have to give you your treat later—”

Only for you to laugh, smacking at his arm. The two of you had agreed on this weeks ago: there was no way he was going to change his mind and deny Ha-eun of her movie night with her second favorite person in the world (... don’t tell Cheol or Shua that, though, Jeonghan had told you immediately after he spilled that little bit of information to you. Or Seungkwan, for that matter.), especially after you already made snacks. Jeonghan pulled away after pressing a second peck against your lips, pulling out a piece of candy from his pocket and pressing it into your hand.

“Ha-eun doesn’t like this kind,” he said, winking at you. “I stole it from the bucket when she wasn’t looking.”

She’d never know it was missing either way, but you liked the way Jeonghan smiled at you like he was getting away with something. He got up to put the popcorn in the microwave, fetching the snacks you had made as you jot down the timestamp in the horror movie you’d been watching before changing it to something more family-friendly. Maybe you would forego the timestamp entirely and watch the movie with Jeonghan after you put Ha-eun to bed for the night. You heard the sound of his daughter coming back out of your room, calling out to her dad that she was ready to wash the facepaint off. All too soon, she had settled between the two of you again for movies.

And just as soon, she’d fallen asleep on top of you, exhausted from the exciting day. Jeonghan merely took the opportunity to lean over, smiling into the kiss he stole from you, all with the taste of candy on your lips.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @staranghae @synthetickitsune @weird-bookworm

#wooahaes.fall23 #wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan fluff

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babygorewhore · 8 months

Text

Tainted Love.

Peter Maximoff Imagine.

You’re the new guidance counselor at Charles Xavier’s school for mutants. A certain silver wearing student has been checking you out on more than one occasion. But you couldn’t possibly entertain the idea. It’s forbidden after all. But…can you resist him?

Requested by @ifeeltoofuckingmuch and @alittlesil WARNINGS. Teacher/Student (kinda) Age gap! Older! Reader! Oral! Fem receiving! Enjoy…cuties. 😏

You caught him checking you out. Twice.

You were the guidance counselor of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. A new one, granted but you prided yourself on the hard work it took to reach this position. A few years shy of thirty, the students here didn’t feel intimidated by your presence. They could speak to you easily, knowing they wouldn’t be met with judgment.

Your mutation was kept under wraps, Charles Xavier often gave you guidance after hours when everyone was in bed or outside. Telekinesis, it was called. No one usually suspected it, you didn’t dress like you were apart of the school staff.

Your hair was multicolored, large considering it was 1981 with perms becoming a rapid fashion trend, flashy leggings, white sneakers and a pink vest over your white sweater. Your mother often rolled her eyes at your modern dress but thankfully you had moved out years ago.

One of your duties as the counselor was to observe classes, take in behavior patterns and note them. Often these students came from broken homes, abusive parents or homelessness. Charles asked you to carefully examine any warnings signs, prevention was crucial to avoid problematic situations.

That’s when you saw him for the first time.

He stood in the middle, not enough to be the center of attention but close enough to be noticed. He wore all gray, everything from his jacket to his shoes. Even his hair was medium length, silver coated. He was handsome, tall with a lean, muscular form.

His deep brown eyes flickered up to you but to your surprise they didn’t falter away when he realized you were staff. Instead, they trailed down your form, absorbing every detail of your body and clothing. It was enough to make you squirm. You justified it in yourself, maybe he didn’t realize your age.

Until the second time. Which happened to be today.

Making rounds was a regular part of your job, you discreetly carried a notebook with you to jot down anything significant when you passed the entrance of the training room. Mystique was in charge of this considering her combat experience. She spared you a polite nod as she directed the students, Cyclops, Jean Gray and him.

He was about to take a step forward when he saw you. You swallowed and gave them a wave. His eyes were impossibly growing darker and his mouth. They curved into a small smirk. You couldn’t tear yourself away from staring back.

“Peter, pay attention!” Mystique commanded him.

That was his name. Peter.

You now sat in your office with your pencil in between your teeth. You couldn’t even consider-well was there anything wrong in admitting he was attractive? No, of course not. He was an adult. But he was younger than you. He couldn’t be as experienced.

The romance department was boring if you were honest. You had hookups. Drunken lust filled nights but nothing that stayed in your heart.

A knock sounded at the door and you snapped your attention up. Charles was on the other side. You flicked your fingers, opening the entrance with your mind and he wheeled himself in. Smiling at him, he moved in front of your desk. “Afternoon, Y/N. Are you free at the moment?”

Nodding, “Yes, Charles. I’m available.”

“Excellent. There’s a student who’s requested to speak to you. But he’s not really one to be confined in an office.”

“Oh? He wants to speak on the grounds? I can put on my jacket. Who is he?” You absentmindedly set the pencil down, reached on your chair and slid the leather apparel on.

“Peter. Peter Maximoff.”

It took everything in you to not gape. You clenched your teeth for a few seconds. “Is he, is he the one who wears all silver?”

Charles nodded to your horror. “Yes. He was quite adamant in talking to you. Said he had…and I’m quoting him here. ‘Daddy issues’ he wanted to work through with you.”

Your hands flexed and released to relieve tension as you walked beside Charles, exiting your office. Remaining silent, you scanned over bodies, looking for any familiar appearances. But none were inside. Crossing through the hallway, you opened one of the many doors with your mind and stepped outside. The sun poured over the expensive and well kept grounds. It was a breathtaking sight, observing the different shapes, ages and mutations working together. But your mind was preoccupied with looking out for Peter.

“Where is he-“ You begin to ask Charles when a whiplash, (get the reference?) of air fanned your face and hair. You clutched your jacket as your eyes registered the man in front of you. Wearing all silver.

Shit.

It was Peter.

His hair was mused lightly from his speed but everything else about him appeared collected. Your mouth went dry as he gave you the same look. The one where he’s sizing you up and devouring you in one steady gaze. Charles smiled, “Ah, yes. You’ll have to get used to that. Peter has the knack for the surprise. This is Y/N. Our guidance counselor. The one you wanted to speak too.”

You extended a shaky hand and Peter accepted it. His grip was firm yet gentle as he shook your conjoined palms. “Peter. Peter Maximoff. But I think the kids are calling me Quick Silver? Something fancy like that.”

You smiled as you maintained eye contact. His chocolate irises were enchanting. Fuck. Focus. You had to stay professional.

“Well, I’ll leave you both to it.” Charles wheeled himself away, leaving you both alone.

“So, Charles told me that you had…Daddy Issues you wanted to talk about?” You turned to walk adjacent to the courtyard and kept your arms against your body.

Peter chuckled. “My father, doesn’t know he’s my father. And he’s…kind of a bad guy. Sort of. He changes sides all the time. I want to tell him. But I’m not sure how he’ll react.” You nodded as he trailed beside you. His hand kept brushing your jacket.

“Mmm. I see. How has his absence, I assume?” He confirmed with a nod your suspicion. “Affected you? Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a mom. And a little sister. My mom doesn’t talk about him. My sister doesn’t know him. I don’t know. I just wish I knew how he would react to me. That I’m his family.” This made you feel a small amount of ease. This was your speciality.

“Do you take care of your mom and sister? Do they rely on you?”

Peter seemed to mule over the question as you circled the basketball court. He was purposely walking slower to match your pace. “Yeah. Oh yeah. I feel guilty for even being here right now.”

“So, would it be fair to say that maybe another reason you want to tell him he’s your father, is because some of the burden would be off of you? I know you love your family, but some of the responsibility wasn’t supposed to be yours. I can imagine there’s a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Peter stopped and you paused. He turned to face you head on. He was taller than you, enough that you had to tilt your chin upward. “Huh. I never had anyone get me before. Guess that’s why you’re here. To get in our minds,” You nearly protested at the stereotypical assumption but his lips curled upward into a smile.

“Well, I want to help you. I don’t want you to feel alone or without proper tools to cope. Everyone needs help sometimes.”

You resumed your trailing. “Fair enough. But I don’t want you to think I’m just some kid with Daddy issues. I’m here because I belong here.”

The question escaped your mouth before you could prevent it. “How old are you, Peter?”

He quirked his eyebrow up. “21. You look a little young yourself to be a shrink.”

“I’m almost 30,” You breathless replied.

“Dirty 30.” You almost collapsed.

“What else is on your mind, Peter?” He shrugged and kept stealing glances at you.

“If I’m being honest, you are.” Your heart jumped to your throat and you halted.

“W-what?”

“I said you, cutie.” You blinked, several seconds of silent went by and then Peter grinned ear to ear.

“Kidding. I just wanted to see your reaction.” You cleared your throat.

“I see. If, if there’s nothing else, I’ll return to the office. But if you ever need to talk-“

“I’ll know where to find you.” Peter gave you a wink, and you understood quickly.

He was not kidding.

You nearly sprinted to your office, shutting the door with your foot and you pressed your back against the wood.

This was fucked up. Extremely fucked up. He was an adult, yes. But he was a student here. You couldn’t possibly allow yourself to attracted to a flirtatious, mutant male who…god you didn’t even know. Cutie? Why was he the only man who could make that nickname attractive? But apparently he was joking. Not really.

You found yourself sitting on your desk. Legs separated. Shaking your head, you cursed at yourself.

Were you really this fucking desperate? Being desperately attracted to a 21 year old? It had been ages since you’d been…intimate with a man. You pressed a hand to your forehead.

How could even be thinking of such a thing? A forbidden idea. He winked at you. Just that. And gave you a few lewd looks.

Maybe it was the fact that someone of his appearance seemed to desire you. He was a nice man, you could tell. Lost. Troubled but he was easy to talk too. No, no. But…he was so, cute? Handsome. With a dashing smile.

Your core tightened. Your mind drifted to the thought of his smart ass smile in between your thighs-

You couldn’t go there-

But what was the harm of a fantasy? No one would know. Unless Charles invaded your thoughts without permission. The aching pulsating quiver inside you, inviting any sort of friction. You pressed your knees together, desperate and you frantically looked over your shoulder. No one. It would only take a few minutes, you were especially sensitive.

You gingerly slipped your hand inside your neon leggings, past your underwear and your fingers settled on your pulsing clit. Sighing dreamily, your eyes drifted shut as you circled with modest pressure. Your slick coated your digits as you sped up, your high not far out of your reach. It was a poor substitute, too quick but you would take what you would get.

“Whoa, cutie.” You jumped, toppling on the floor at the sound of a intruder.

Peter stood there, door slightly ajar and his eyes were wide but a sly, knowing smirk was plastered all over his smug face. You gathered yourself and stood beside your now slightly damp desk.

“Peter! What are you doing? Coming in here without knocking?”

“I did knock, actually. But I think you were too busy to hear me.” He was holding back a laugh and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“I-was there something you needed?” You squeaked.

“I just was feeling so down, you know. My daddy issues were bothering me so I wanted to talk more. But I guess you were… a little busy?” His smirk was driving you insane.

“This is not-appropriate. You can’t make implications like that-“

“I’m just talking about you taking notes about me, what sort of naughty thing were you talking about?” Peter gave you a mocking confused look and you almost snarled.

“What are you doing? Why are you-being-insufferable?” You nearly shouted.

“Oh, I’m just a innocent student needing help. I don’t know why you’re mad at me?” That was it. You charged at him, ready to send him out of your office when he disappeared.

“I-“ Arms encircled your waist and your breath stopped short. He was beside you, grinning but one hand drifted to your lower back.

“Y/N, don’t you think it’s bad manners to touch yourself, in the middle of work? Especially after talking to a man who’s obviously interested in you?” You opened your mouth to speak but Peter smashed his lips to yours.

You pressed your hands to his chest to push him back, but his own fingers gripped your hips and your ass pressed against your desk. “Peter-“ He shook his head, running his tongue across your lower lip and you opened your mouth, allowing him to explore.

His palm felt down your leg, cupping underneath your knee and bringing it to secure around his waist as you leaned back.

Your senses rushed back and with your mind, you moved him back.

“Whoa,” He whispered, his lips flushed. “You’re a mutant.”

“This. This is wrong. I’m a authority figure here. I would be taking advantage of you-“

“Taking advantage of me? I can promise you. You’re not. I’m not a kid. I just happen to be just a little younger than you.”

You started to shake your head but he sped over to you, laying you across your desk.

“Besides, could a kid do something like this?” Peter tugged down your pants, past your ankles before discarding them to the floor. He eyed your sticking underwear. “Fuck. You really need this, don’t you? Wait…is this all for me?”

You trembled as he lowered himself down to his knees.

“Yes- you know that.”

He hooked his fingers down the waist band of your underwear, peeling them down slowly, despite his superpower. “Mmm. Yeah. I figured that out. When I saw you fucking your self.”

A chill raked against your spine as he pushed your legs apart. His silver hair tilting down as he lowered his mouth to your pussy. “But it would be nice if you were a good girl and said it? Hmm? Maybe say it for me?”

“I-I-“ You stuttered and he teasingly traced his tongue on your folds, but not where you needed him most.

“Say it. Say this is all for me. Please? I would hate to have to-“

“Fucks sake, yes it’s about you.” You exclaimed before gripping his hair and shoving it towards you.

Peter took the hint, gliding his tongue flat against your clit and your head dropped back. A moan escaped you as he sloppily lapped up the wetness that was indeed for him. He groaned deep in his chest as you held onto his hair.

He devoured you, assaulting your clit before driving his tongue inside your entrance. And then starting all over again. You shuddered, already getting close to your climax. Your thighs shook and he gave you a faster stripe of his tongue.

“Aw, your legs are shaking. Did you need it this bad?”

“Asshole-“ You responded and then squeezed your eyes shut as you started cumming.

“Oh, god. Fuck.” You humped his face as you rode out your release. You propped yourself on your elbows, expecting him to raise himself up and fuck you but then you understood.

He wasn’t stopping.

Peter kept eating at you, messily and desperately. Your clit started burning as he fucked it with his mouth. “Peter-“ You whimpered and he shook his head, increasing the intensity.

“No, you’ve got more in you. I know you do.” Another orgasm ripped from you, forcing you to clamp your hand over your mouth so you wouldn’t scream.

You didn’t feel him anymore.

Gasping, you looked down. He was gone. But your leggings and underwear were back on.

“Ahem.” He was standing by the door. Your eyes widened and you flailed your hands out.

“What the hell-“

“Sorry, Y/N. But I have to go. I don’t want to get in trouble with my teacher.” With a Cheshire Cat grin and a wink, he dashed from your office.

You clutched at your chest.

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to get away with this. He would know exactly what it meant to be overstimulated. Even if it killed you.

Taglist. @howtobesasha @evanptrss @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @icannot3 @randodummy @alittlesil @scene-and-dandylover @hyperharlz @fuckedbykai @spill-the-t

#personal #evan peters #evan peters imagine #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters x reader #peter maximof x reader #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff #X-men #evan peters x you #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #evan peters fanfic

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intensepokerface · 2 years

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Okay look, I understand that really important things are happening in the world at the moment, the queens’s funeral, Trump getting sued, Adam Levine cheating on his wife… but people in Iran are being murdered. This began by the cruel murder of a 22 year old girl, Mahsa Amini, last week by the police because she wasn’t wearing appropriate hijab. This has been going on in Iran for decades, women have been going through this.

Some people will want to jot this down as islamphobia, but that is nothing even close to reality. If women are burning their headscarves now, it’s not out of the hatred of Islam, it’s an act of protest to the loss of religious freedom. It’s not just that, if someone is born from muslim parents in Iran they are automatically assumed to be a muslim and they have no right to changing their religion without serious persecution. The Islamic Republic has given an evil face to Islam. The poeple of Iran don’t hate Islam. We hate governments who will force religion on women. Historically this has been a recurring event. Before the revolution in the ‘30s Reza Shah forced women to discard their hijab and now for decades the opposite is happening. All the people of Iran have ever asked for is freedom and all they’ve got in return has been cruelty, violence and death.

The cruelty doesn’t end there. Few months ago the southern and western parts of Iran had no water, they also did peaceful protests against that situation and they too were awarded with fire arms and violence. All for asking for the most basic need a person has. A need for water. Iran may not have a lot of water but there is enough for this not to happen. This is evident by the fact that the government is now using that said water against the protesters by blasting them with it.

For the past week the people of Iran of all races and ages and religions are fighting against the regime. The government has been imprisoning defenseless people. They are killing people to show the world they didn’t kill Mahsa Amini. They are using military grade equipment. In some cities they are using tanks, they are using guns and tear gas and batons. They may be using acid in some areas. They are using ambulances to arrest protesters and bring soldiers into crowds. They are doing this so that if the protesters attack these ambulances to free innocent people, they can have proof of people destroying public property. The only weapon people have against this immense level of violence is their bare hands and their courage.

Tumblr has a community of people who pride themselves on social justice and wanting to help people’s voices be heard. What is happening in Iran is no less than what has happened in other countries during the past few years. Iranians are so alone, they have no help. No country is out there helping the people of Iran. At least their voices can be heard. At least people should be aware of what is happening. Tens of people have been killed and hundreds injured just for protesting police brutality, the irony is evident.

Right as all these things are happening, the president of Iran another pillar in this evil government is in the US, talking about the freedom of Iranians and their fortunate lives.

About five years ago after a protest in Tehran; Telegram and Instagram, platforms that were widely used by Iranian were blocked by the government. They were added to the list of social media platforms that were blocked then, like Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr. After a while Instagram was unblocked but Telegram has been blocked since. All of this is just so people from the outside of Iran don’t find out about what is really happening in Iran so the government can lie on their behalf. Like they are doing right now, lying about how Iranian women wear hijab out of sheer will while the reality is that they are dying to gain freedom. About 4 years ago, the internet was completely shut off for about a month. This was following a protest regarding the extremely high price of gas in a country that has all the gas to last a hundred lifetimes. When the internet was shut down people didn’t know for how long. We were kept in the dark and the government was reining while ensuing terror in people with the threat of more restrictions. Just imagine having no internet, it was an insane time. They are restricting the internet again. Last night they shut off the internet partly and they may do it again indefinitely and the voices of the people may not reach anyone again. There isn’t much time.

Then they shot two rockets at a Ukrainian plane that had lifted from Iranian grounds. There were Irannian students on the plane, 176 people who all died for no reason. The government of the Islamic Republic killed all those people for nothing. And all the world did was light a few candles. They need to be held responsible for all these lives they are taking away. All these young people they are killing.

I know that this is long. I know that this is inconvenient. It’s upsetting and I get that but help is truely needed. People can’t keep dying for nothing. The government can’t keep getting away with everything. They have no one to answer to and they can do anything. They kill and torture and imprison. I am just asking people to educate themselves and maybe help spread the word. Go on Twitter and watch the videos if you can. I won’t put them on here because it may be too upsetting. There is blood, there is gunshot wounds, there is violence and there is terror.

#Iran #social justice #police brutality #help #help needed #mahsa amini #end violence #Queen Elizabeth

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lets-try-some-writing · 8 months

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Slight spoiler for beast wars, not really plot relevance but lore that makes me think and give me this idea.

So we all can agree that raf understanding beee is complete nonsense and just suspension of disbelif we need to accept. But what if it wasn't?

So, in the movie there is a small trive that live in close proximity to the maximals, they live in harmony for generations. What if that closeness to a new species affects humans causing them to adapt to better live with them?

Earth in transformers prime is just unicron that had been sleep for a long time in ita center. There is dark energon running close to earth surface (a god damn volcano erupted with it, I'm no expert but that can't happen unless is sources is close to the arth surface) so is not impossible to belive that an ancient human civilization could have found dark energon close to them. Sure they might not know what it is and it is stablish that its toxic for humans. but just been close to it for generations without direct contact might affect human physiology in ways no one might notice. We are an adaptive species. Each generation gets more strong to survive in the environment they ancestors live (people that are not use to the low level of oxygen in mountains and other hight places tend to pass out when reaching that point, is a real thing and there a people that have live in such places without any trouble for generations) what if they could even contact with unicron long ago, like just grab a pieces of dark energon and go "this is your God speaking, why did you interrupt my slumber".

They developed and entire society praising this "god" and its "magic cristals". They eventually died our but jot before being affected by their closeness to unicron

Like being able to understand our aliens cousins. Survive the same letal substance (even if barely) and even survive a regular energon intake even when is supposed to be bad for humans. I don't remember if it was ever stablish what could happen if a human was injected energon, but I still can't belive raf was save that easily, not without it having a reason.

That gave the idea that humans might have inherited some cybertronians traits, particularly those who have live close to energon mines and/or the different relics/predators bones scattered across the planet.

Like this are my ideas of traits the kids have that could be explain has them being close related to people that live in closeness to cybertronian influence.

Raf: smart enough to understand cybertronians technology in a matter of weeks. Can understand bee, and can withstand energon toxicity with ease compare to others.

Miko: it was never explain how she could use the apex amor despite it being made for cybertronians. So an affinity to such technology. I also like to belive that her recklessness can be because subconsciously she might think she is strong enough to survives such dangerous situations. Like her mind is telling her "you are strong, no matter what your body looks like".

Jack: he could use the key to Becton sigma, there is no way a human could have use it unless they were some what in tune with cybertronians technology. He is also drawn to mechanics (it was never a big thing but I remember him trying to build a motorcycle engine, that can't be easy with some deep knowledge)

That being explained. How could the bots find out about this? Simple actually "ancestry research" the kids might have to do a project about their ancestor and can end up telling stories that they hear for their familys and might even have some objects that they show to the bots and they connect the doslts abd found out how close humans actually are to cybertronians.

Like, Miko might have a nekless that is a small Predacon bone.

Raf family can have some small statues made by some strange glowing rock (some purple, some blue and maybe even a red one)

Jack might have a book that is just legends pass down fron his ancestor that are just cybertronian tales that unicron told old humans when he was still awake long ago.

I have more ideas but this thing is long enough what would you think wat are your ideas?

This is a phenomenal idea and I am incredibly pleased you saw fit to share with me. I will gladly take what you have presented and make it more long form.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Remnants of a Bygone Age

When Unicron was cast away long ago by Primus's chosen champions, he could neither move nor sense what was happening around him. Consciousness came in bursts and never for long, and due to the damage sustained during his battle at the beginning of times, his memory from his various waking moments faded like smoke as soon as he returned to slumber. As such he did not recall his interactions with the ancient beginnings of humanity that spawned on his surface.

His essence was largely kept near to his core, but with time and various attempts to move every now and then, his energon flowed toward the surface. At first did nothing as the non-sentient fauna on his frame refused to touch his corrupted blood. The flora that came into contact with his energon often died or simply adapted to not accept any of it into their systems. Unicron's energon remained untouched save for by the most foolish, all of which perished or at least learned to avoid it if they lasted.

But of course, not all creatures on his frame were so cautious. The beginnings of humanity were curious beings, a trait that never faded from them even millennia later. They found safe haven in areas where Unicron's essence ran thick as no predators would dare take harbor in such areas. They lived in those locations for centuries, sometimes moving on and coming back, but never abandoning those relative areas of peace. They even forcefully began to have their crops grow in such a way that they had no choice but to adapt. And it was through these small things that humans gained their first adaptations to allow them to interact with their maker.

In the beginning they would constantly grow ill being so near to dark energon deposits hidden underground. But with generations passing, the illness came to be a rite of passage. The humans in areas with dark energon adapted to withstand its presence, so much so that the illness only hit them once as a child and then passed, growing less and less deadly with every generation. Through constant consumption of their crops tainted with the Unmaker's blood, their bodies grew stronger. Their minds sharpened and they gained unique senses that no other creatures on Earth had. The humans who were used to living around Unicron's energon deposits were made of sterner stuff than they counterparts and through the passing of time, comprised a great number of mythical figures in history later down the line.

Eventually in response to the march of progress, the humans who lived in such areas eventually grew tolerant enough that they no longer feared dark energon instinctually and instead found it safe. So many generations of associating it with protection from the horrors in the dark had them revere it. Thus once they had the means, small communities sprung up devoted to retrieving the dark crystals. This of course led to many more generations of premature death and horrid mutation among children as dark energon was dug up and experimented with. But humanity has always been adaptive, and so given time, they changed to handle it.

They could not find a use for the substance, but those who lived in areas filled with Unicron's essence for generations found themselves unable to leave. It was their safe haven, their home. Other human settlements sprang up around the globe, growing in size and marching onward, but the chaos touched never wandered. They remained, ever bound to the blood of their god. It is unclear exactly when it started, but at some point the emotions of safety they associated with dark energon warped into a worship of The Dark One. So many millennia of adaptation and so many centuries made the chaos touched able to hear whispers, to hold dark energon without fear and to carve it, care for it, and revere it without worry of death.

They were extraordinary in all things, to the point of being super human. They had adapted and from those many generations of death and lost young, they were stronger for it. The chaos touched humans were stronger, faster, more cunning, and possessed odd abilities that made no sense to humans without such adaptations. The Cybertronian origin of their Dark One infused them in such a way that the chaos touched were simply so different genetically at the end of the day that they could hardly be called human. They saw in ways their kin could never, heard things that other humans could not, and felt the spark of their god beneath their feet. They were beings that could not break the threshold to become something technorganic and almost Cybertronian, and thus they remained forever at the pinnacle, unable to evolve any further.

Sometimes Unicron would whisper to them, mistaking them for his own creations and telling them tales of the stars. Other times he would imbue them with his power, killing some but empowering others. He gifted them knowledge of the language of his brother's creations, he gave them visions of the stars, and in his daze he had them believing themselves to be but one step away from ascension.

However being akin to demi-gods amongst other humans was what ultimately led to their downfall. The chaos touched refused to leave their holy grounds for long, and so were destroyed when armies from their non-adapted kin came for them during a time of weakness. Their civilization came to an end, and those who were not adapted to the Unmaker simply never were able to rest easily in places where his blood ran thick. But of course, that was not the end of the chaos touched. The few survivors had children, they changed, and while their adaptations weakened in response to the mixing of blood, they were not all lost.

In the modern era, the blood of the chaos touch was thin and very frail, hardly present as most dark energon had long been hidden away. However a few bloodlines remained, surprisingly being quite prevalent in Jasper Nevada where the chaos touched unknowingly gathered on instinct due to the dark energon there. Humans are adaptive creatures, and so while most of their Herculean strength and Athenian wisdom was long gone, the different bloodlines specialized in what they could. Not a soul knew that these gifts were out of the ordinary simply because they had no application... not until Cybertronians arrived on Earth.

The children unknowingly were born into three of these old bloodlines, and therefore possessed power that had no use in an era without Cybertronian influence. But with Cybertronians on Earth, those gifts began to make an appearance, the most obvious of which being Rafael's unique ability. The team were immediately suspicious of Rafael's knack for understanding Bumblebee. The child claimed it to be binary speech, but Jack looked into it and the team did their own research and what Rafael claimed was simple was most certainly not. Bumblebee was speaking in Cybertronian Morse code, Autobot code specifically. There should have been no way for Rafael to know what he was saying, especially since the similarities between Earth and Cybertronians tongues were close to non-existent. It was a mess of impossibilities, but the Matrix did not say anything and Rafael never acted maliciously, and so while concerning, the team let it be.

When Rafael was struck with dark energon and poisoned, their concerns were brought back to light once more when he didn't keel over the moment the substance touched him. Even being injected with small doses could leave a Cybertronian dead on their pedes for deca-cycles if they weren't prepared for it. A human child managing to last more than a nanoklik was a miracle, one Ratchet did not try to abuse as he worked to heal the child before it was too late. Only after the incident did the team overlook Rafael's scans critically in search of some sort of indicator regarding what saved him. Organics were not the hardiest of creatures, it shouldn't have been possible... and yet it was. Looking at Rafael's DNA scans showed that he had minor mutations to his immune system and cognitive functions, but that was all. It didn't look like much, at least not immediately.

The team filed it away as more pressing issues came forward, but again they found themselves bewildered when Jack showed his quality in his ability to wield the key to Vector Sigma. By that point the team were looking for strange occurrences in the children and thus merely noted his acceptance of the key before moving on. Optimus was of course startled but did nothing to halt the boy as he moved to return the Unmaker to his slumber. Jack was not supposed to bond to the key, it shouldn't have been possible. At most he would be able to hold the relic for one of the team, but being bound to it? Again, it was an event that had the team scrambling to look at Jack's scans once all the chaos was over and Optimus was returned to them.

Once more they were left bewildered as looking at Jack's scans showed only minor mutations to his DNA that seemed to alter his base genetic code to make him more susceptible to Cybertronian technology. His alterations looked a great deal like the preliminary augmentations technorganic underwent before receiving implants. But again, it shouldn't have been possible for Jack to have those. Earth was a backwater world only just starting its pitiful attempt to reach the stars. Such technology and genetic augmentation was millennia ahead of them. Ratchet wanted to flip a table more than ever when they were forced to file Jack's case away too in response to Decepticon activity.

The concept of ignoring the strange mutations in their wards DNA went flying out the window when Miko managed to somehow get the Apex Armor to respond to her. The relic was designed for Cybertronian wielders, not organic children. Again, much like every other instance involving the children and Cybertronian tech, it shouldn't have been possible. The Apex Armor scanned the mind of its wielder in order to account for size and to be sure that the wielder was Cybertronian at all. How did she manage to trick a relic? Pure force of will? Considering it was MIKO messing around with the armor most of the team were half willing to ignore it and move on. The girl was an enigma on the best of days. But combined with Jack and Rafael being just as strangely in tune with Cybertronian tech, the team finally sat the children down and asked questions.

Ratchet: Rafael, how in the Allspark are you able to understand Bumblebee?

Rafael: Huh? I can hear what he is trying to say is all. Translating is not very difficult.

Arcee: Raf, you realize Bumblebee isn't speaking in your Morse code right?

Rafael: What? But it sounds like-

Optimus: Bumblebee speaks in Autobot binary code. His faux vocalizer turns Cybertronian digital glyphs into spoken sounds that only war veterans would be familiar with.

Rafael: So the fact that I understand him-?

Ratchet: We've looked at your DNA scans, you have strange mutations that don't make sense. You and the other two.

Jack: What? Me and Miko too?

Bulkhead: Yeah, its really weird. Your scans look like something straight out of a technorganic augmentation document.

Bumblebee: *Miko shouldn't be able to use the Apex armor at all*

Rafael: Really?!

Optimus: Bumblebee is correct. Jack, Miko, you two should not have been able to interact with our relics in any capacity. And Rafael should have been killed the moment he came into contact with dark energon.

Ratchet: The fact that Rafael understands us, survived dark energon, and combine that with your ability to use our relics brings us to one question.

Ratchet: What did your ancestors interact with in order to change your very DNA to be closer to ours?

The children were rightfully concerned but after receiving the knowledge of their odd genetic background, they did some digging together. Within the next week, they arrived at base with a few family heirlooms and some documents that had half the team doing a double take.

In her hands Miko held a small Predacon fang. That alone was not too startling considering such things could be found on Earth, but was concerning was her total lack of concern for it. Cybertronian components had a natural distasteful signature that kept most from touching the corpses of their fallen, even after the energon was long gone. And yet Miko played with the fang as if it meant nothing and pulled up her family history, showing that her ancestors likely came from the region of Earth that supposedly housed and Autobot base during the golden age of Cybertron. Everything lined up and the team could only assume that her ancestors adapted to become naturally unconcerned with Cybertronians and even size them up in some method of survival instinct akin to the honey badger.

Rafael for his part had a small crystal idol that he said was a family heirloom from back several centuries. Somehow his family never lost it and even prized it above their own lives at times. The idol simply never managed to be taken as others seemed disgusted by it and his ancestors were almost obsessed with the stone. It was old, but looking closer showed that it was a long dormant shard of dark energon whittled down with increadible skill into the shape of what looked to be the general outline of Unicron's frame. Compared to Miko, Rafael's heirloom almost had the team raising their weapons on instinct. He held his idol so carefully as if to keep it from even touching the very air and his eyes glazed over as he presented it. Looking at his family records showed that his ancestors most likely lingered near old dark energon deposits, and that had the team looking at the boy in poor veiled concern.

Then there was Jack who had no relic of his own but instead showed a written down version of a song that had been orally passed down his family line since long before proper records existed. Looking over the lyrics and the strange glyphs that Jack claimed his family had always been taught how to draw as a simple children's game had the team gawking. Once more, his family history showed his ancestors to have been near a dark energon deposit for much of their history and seeing the song... every single one of the team felt their spark flutter in slight fear. Just how long had humanity been exposed to the Unmaker? For how long had they been influenced?

Hail to the Lord of Dark,

For he protects us and gives us visions of starlight,

We were born of his will,

And from his will we are made pure,

Strength of giants,

Wisdom of ancients,

Stories of great beings made of living metal,

Hail to He Who Is Shadows,

Let him guide our sight,

May he heal us,

Grace us Oh Creator with thy gifts,

We herald thee,

Wake from thy rest,

Humanity was playing a game they weren't even aware they were involved in. Somehow they had adapted, they had survived, and now they had gifts they never should have had.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #tfp kids #miko nakadai #jack darby #rafael esquivel #unicron #again unicron with his dabbling #and humanity being the adaptive monsters we are #poor cybertronians are so fragging confused

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