#last year he was like. bush size

[solareidolon]

rip Seymour Green ;-; you will be missed

#he was the plant in the varsity gym that all the teams co-parented #the new strength and conditioning coach apparently ''took care of him'' #he had been trimmed back a few times but he had always come back previously #last year he was like. bush size #but now he's gone :( #literally just leave him be! #he's practically the worlds easiest houseplant! #he gets his own water from where he was growing in through the wall and he's right by the window already! #you dont have to do anything for him to be happy! #also it was very nice having a decent sized plant down there in the basement :(

[merakiui]

the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly. 

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious,  places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline. 

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #n/sfw #tw: age gap #tw: dubcon #tw: pregnancy mention

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 1 The Winter Ball

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 1. Summary: You meet Harry at your boss's retirement party and your night ends with a bang.

Word Count: 10k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, alcohol consumption, angst

Can We Start Over? masterlist

The winter ball was something Mr. Spector threw every year for his clients, colleagues, and other wealthy people he wanted to be seen with. This one was like the past three you’d attended, but unlike the others, this would be the last. Your boss, Mr. Spector was retiring, and he was moving to Italy. You were happy for him. Truly. He’d been good to you the past three and half years you spent working for him. You took on the duty of a personal assistant and friend. The friend part came naturally, of course. It wasn’t part of your job description but you honestly really liked Mr. Spector. He wasn’t nice to most people. But to you, he was kind of like the dad you never had. He was hard-nosed but he was fair and somehow you two just clicked.

You worked for one of the most elite household talent staffing companies out there. Your clients usually consisted of, not just wealthy people, but filthy rich and usually the kind that wanted to fly under the radar and needed the utmost discretion. In Mr. Spector’s case, he didn’t want his spiteful children to know how much he was really worth. Sure they were in the will, and they’d certainly do well upon his passing (that was all they seemed to care about), but they’d never see the real number of his assets until it was too late and everything was already doled out according to Mr. Spector’s wishes.

And so you helped him in any way you could to achieve this façade. You found a private accountant for him to move money about and helped him keep the appearance of not having the kind of money he actually did. You suggested, for example, that he not buy the Rolls Royce but that the Mercedes should be sufficient, and that rather than wearing a 31-million-dollar Patek Philippe, diamond-encrusted watch, he go with the more basic, 25-thousand-dollar stainless steel sports model Rolex instead. So he still maintained an air of wealth and prestige because there was no question to anyone that he was super rich. But you just helped him bring it down a notch.

And his winter ball was more like his retirement party this time around. He’d really gone all out. Despite your hesitation with some of his selections, you figured you’d give him this one. And you could admit that helping to plan his parties was one of your favorite tasks. You’d fly to venues all over the world seeking the best (once they’d been narrowed down of course) for him. Find the best chefs and mixologists, the perfect planners and decorators. You got to help select finishings, menus, and staff, right down to the types of linen and even the theme of the events.

And the theme of the night was A Secret Garden in the City. For this, you found a penthouse in Manhattan with full 360-degree views. The space was empty when you first arrived to look at it. You were told it wasn’t a place normally rented for parties but that the owner had intended to make it a fancy restaurant at some point. But it had been sitting for years, empty. And you found the place because Mr. Spector knew everyone. You had a number for a real estate agent to the wealthy in New York City and he gave you a bit of insider information. The penthouse space, he’d told you, could be negotiated by the owner to rent given the right price.

You had landscapers come in and make a garden of the space. Flowers, grass, trees, bushes, vines, even a lily pad pond… when everything was put together, it really did look like you were in a secret garden in the middle of Manhattan. Delicate string lights lit the space, the ceiling was painted a dark sky color so it felt as if you were outside. The table settings were like something out of a Hobbit’s Tale with knotty oak chairs with green silk cushions. The linens were of green satin silk with gold embroidery design and the napkins were gold satin. Centerpieces were potted leafy plants of all types, and moss was placed around the pots to give them that fairyland look. Tiny candles illuminated each table all around. Gold cutlery. Big golden lighted globes hung from the ceiling in various sizes between plants that cascaded down. It really was quite the spectacle.

You were proud of how it all turned out. And the 200 guests that Mr. Spector invited all appeared to be in awe of the space.

The stringed music playing for most of the event in the background was live. The musicians stood to the side of the room on a newly installed platform, trees lined the back of the stage. And now that the night was finally coming to an end, well, the main event had ended, it was time to drink and dance and let loose, the band was switched out for something rockier and more upbeat.

Mr. Spector kissed your cheek and gripped your arm, “My dear, you never cease to astonish me with your hard work. Thank you for this. I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

You tried to get him to stay and enjoy the after-party. And like every year before, he declined. He liked his private time. Liked reading and writing and the quiet. He preferred his guests to enjoy what he’d been able to give them. It was, after all, for them, he always said.

“Even though it’s your last event like this? You won’t get this again, sir. Are you sure?” You smiled at him and he nodded. You knew he’d decline to stay.

So, you ordered your second cocktail of the night once Mr. Spector left. Some type of green concoction with a blackberry-sized red flower floating atop. You didn’t know what was in it. All you knew was that it tasted delicious and it was going to get you into some trouble. But maybe that’s what you were looking for that evening. After all, this was your going away party as well. You’d be put back into the system as active again once you were officially out of Mr. Spector’s employ. It would be time to find your next role.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Many dancing, some sitting and chatting, others making their rounds to network and schmooze. You stayed at the edge of the dance area and let your body move to the rhythm. You kept your eyes on everyone. Even though you were trying to just enjoy yourself you still felt somewhat responsible for all the attendees. It was ingrained in you.

You definitely fit in with everyone, though. Your outfit was couture, high fashion like the rest of the guests. Mr. Spector had paid for everything for you, as always. You picked out a beautiful cowl neck, deep navy-blue velvet dress with a slit that went up to your mid-thigh. The back draped down tastefully but the drape at the front was dangerously low. Just like you wanted. You had red pumps with gold and ruby jewelry. It was always difficult finding things in your size that weren’t from a big box store but the hunt for the perfect dress and accessories was always worth it. And the dress? You felt absolutely sexy. From head to toe.

The song was swingy and fun. More people covered the dance floor and somehow you’d gotten pushed further in. You still had your drink in hand but now it was nearly empty so you were less worried about spilling any of the liquid on yourself.

A woman you recognized as a small IT business owner greeted you and you both chatted as you danced together. When the song changed Elsie pointed at your drink, “You’re low. So am I,” she lifted her glass to show you, “Should we grab more?”

The answer that night was yes. Yes to anything.

The bar that lined the wall opposite the band had people hovering, waiting for their drinks. You let Elsie take the lead in getting the attention of the bartender. She was a tall, slender blond with smooth shiny hair so you figured she’d do better at getting your drinks faster. And you were used to that. Being the fat one, you tended to get overlooked and ignored. When you were younger it hurt a lot more, but these days you learned to use it to your advantage.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unworthy. You just understood how most people perceived you, even if they were wrong. You were confident when it mattered and took good care of yourself. And you rarely ever mistook a man’s kindness for him flirting with you, which was nice in a way. You couldn’t ever wrap your mind around assuming every guy who was kind to you was flirting. A lot of your friends had that mentality. Any time a man would chat them up they’d automatically jump to thinking they were being sized up somehow. You couldn’t imagine feeling so confident that you thought a man having a conversation with you meant anything more.

So that’s why when the tall, gorgeous man with dark, soft curls, sharp green eyes, and an even sharper jawline leaned in and asked, “Are you having a good time?” You didn’t assume he was flirting with you.

“I definitely am. How about you?” You turned to look up at him. Deep pink lips, broad shoulders, a very expensive suit and shoes, cocky grin.

“Sure. But I had to fly out here to attend last minute. My assistant forgot to add the event to my calendar so I had to settle for this suit and here I am. I’ll deal with her later. Luckily Alfred always throws the biggest and best parties so it’s been worth it.”

You noted the tiny dig to his assistant in the back of your mind and nodded, “Yeah, Mr. Spector loves to go big. It’s turned out great I think.” You had planned on mentioning you were the man of the night’s assistant until Mr. Cocky complained about his own. So you’d keep that little detail to yourself.

He was drinking whisky, neat. And when Elsie finally returned to your spot at the edge of the bar she handed you your tasty green drink and you introduced her.

“Elsie, this is… uh… What was your name?”

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he held his hand out, gaudy rings on most of his fingers toward the pretty blond and she nodded, “Elsie Powers. Nice to meet you.”

The pair got to talking the moment Elsie mentioned her company and so you decided to dip out. You didn’t need to stand around and watch them flirt, which is what you assumed was going on. They were both gorgeous so that seemed natural to you.

But before you could take even a step outside of the little bubble the three of you were in you felt Harry’s hand at your low back as he leaned down to speak into your ear, “Don’t go too far. I was hoping to ask you something.”

You looked down at his arm and back into his eyes, “Okay… I’ll be around. You can come find me.”

When his fingers slid off your back as you stepped away you still felt the heat of his skin where he’d touched you. You liked his touch, but you assumed it happened because you took up so much space. It was more likely, in your mind, that he hadn’t meant to touch you there at all.

After another cocktail and a bit more dancing by yourself, Harry did find you. You didn’t realize it was him at first. You felt a warm body dancing behind you, not touching, just near enough that the heat emanated from him to your back. But then you heard his voice, “Found you. Thought you left.”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder and spoke, “Was planning on staying til the end. Felt like I deserved to enjoy tonight.”

“And why’s that?” Harry’s hand brushed along your bare arm softly before he removed it. You felt the trail of where he’d touched your arm and it made you wonder if he’d done it on purpose.

“No reason. I just deserve it,” you kept swaying your hips and you felt Harry moving with you, standing over you. You could smell his cologne.

“You don’t mind me dancing with you, do you?” His voice was close to your neck as he spoke.

Shaking your head you turned your body to face him, swinging your hips softly, “Not at all.”

He grinned down at you and the dimple that appeared on his cheek had you taken aback. He was truly stunning.

“Good. Wanted to chat some with you. Find out more about you…” he took your hand in his and pulled you closer, shifting the mood a little as you both danced. You silently inhaled in surprise at his gesture.

“And what did you want to know, Mr. Styles?” You raised your brows and smirked at him. You weren’t sure at that point what he was doing. But he was certainly leading you to believe this was more than just a friendly chat.

“First, what’s your name?”

You laughed, “I’m Y/n. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Are you here alone, Y/n?” His free hand found a spot on your side over your hip.

“I am. What about you?” You weren’t used to receiving this kind of attention from anyone. Much less a wealthy handsome man.

“I’m here alone too,” he kept a cocky grin plastered to his face as he drew nearer and spoke lowly so only you could hear, “But was hoping I wouldn’t be leaving alone.”

It was at that moment you were truly surprised. Was he…? Couldn’t be. You’d surely misread this situation just in the way all your pretty girlfriends misread it every time a guy showed any friendliness. Maybe it was the three cocktails you’d drank and that had you wondering what was in them.

Harry's hand released yours and he brought his ringed fingers up to your shoulder where he brushed the side of your neck, drawing you in closer with his other hand at your hip, “What about you?”

You blinked your eyes and looked up at him in confusion, “What about me? What do you mean?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he looked down at your mouth and took a clear glance at your cleavage before responding, “Did you hope to leave with someone tonight?”

You scoffed and looked around the dance floor before looking back at him, still not quite believing the direction this conversation was headed, “I hadn’t imagined I would leave with anyone. Figured I’d just go back to my hotel room alone after.”

The ridiculously attractive man licked his lips and kept his gaze on yours, “Really? You don’t want someone to take you back to their room and help you out of this pretty dress tonight?”

You began to cough. You’d choked on your own saliva as you inhaled a sharp breath at the wrong moment. His words caught you off guard.

But now you were hacking and bent at the waist, red in the face like an idiot.

Harry patted your back and you heard him speak into your ear, “You okay, darling? Need some water?”

When you’d recovered you and Harry were standing at the edge of the dancefloor away from the crowd and he had a comforting hand on your back.

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…” you wiped your face, which was moist from the tears you’d forced out from all the coughing.

Harry took your hand and led you to a free seat, pulling a chair out for you and then sitting next to you, his hand still on your back, “Do you feel better now?”

You nodded and smiled at him. You hadn’t forgotten what he said. But now you were sure whatever he was getting at was all but out the window after your little display.

“Come back with me to my room, Y/n.”

Well, that just blasted your little theory.

You sat up straight and your jaw dropped open wide, “Why?”

Harry laughed, “Because I don’t want to go back alone. Spend the night with me tonight.”

Were you in a dream? Had you drunk too much and were blacked out and hallucinating?

“I don’t… I’m not sure what you…” you were unable to put your thoughts together coherently. You hadn’t expected it. You assumed you weren’t his type. Too chunky for a man like him. Imagined he preferred a more modelesque figure on women he found attractive given his appearance.

“Look. I’ll just be very straightforward with you. I think you’re gorgeous and I’d like to have you in my bed tonight. Naked. How does that sound to you?”

You whispered the word naked back to him as if it were a word you’d never heard before. You took a deep breath and looked around the room.

“What are you drinking? I’ll go get us another so we can chat a bit before you make any decisions.”

Now this question was one you could actually answer, “The cocktail is one from the menu. Called the Grove.”

Harry got up and left you at the table by yourself. You sat back in the seat and sighed. What were you going to do? He was mouth-watering, which is why you choked on your spit in the first place. Your mouth was literally watering at his proximity on the dance floor. And now he was asking you to go back to his room to hook up. He couldn’t have made it clearer. There was no room for you to misinterpret what he meant.

And why should you say no? Why should you go back to your own room and sleep in that big bed all by yourself? Well, mostly because you were worried about getting attached. Sure you didn’t even know the guy but that’s just how you were. You weren’t built for casual hookups or one-night stands. And you were sure that’s all this would be. Could you handle it? Would you be able to have sex with someone and then move on from it?

When you saw Harry walking back toward you you’d made up your mind. You’d finish your drink and tell him your verdict. You needed one more drink, though. Just to really loosen up. If you were going to do this if you were going to take a risk and have sex with a stranger, one more drink would help you relax about the whole situation.

Harry handed you your cocktail and sat down with his whisky in hand. He brushed his fingers over your arm as he spoke about how he knew Mr. Spector, “His cousin was my boss years ago. Before I got started in my current line of business. And since then, Alfred’s been inviting me to his parties. I can’t usually go but I rarely miss the winter ball.”

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before taking another sip of your verdant drink.

Harry grinned and licked his lips, “Let’s not talk business.”

You frowned and looked down at your red-painted nails. It wasn’t always polite to ask people what they did for a living but you figured given the circumstances, those being that he’d just asked you to have sex with him, it was okay. Clearly, you’d misjudged.

Harry gripped your chin and pushed your head back up to look at him, “Don’t feel bad for asking. You were just curious. I think the less we know of one another the better. Besides, work talk is boring. Don’t you think?”

You blinked again, his intense gaze was really working its way under your skin.

“Okay. Sorry. You’re right.”

Harry shook his head, keeping his hand at your chin, “And don’t say you’re sorry. Wouldn’t you rather talk about anything but work right now?” He let go of your chin and sat back in his chair as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I guess. It’s just that everyone here is networking and I thought it was only natural.”

“You and I are not networking, Y/n.” Harry grinned.

By the time your drink was but a clear puddle of melted ice at the bottom of the glass, you could feel how hot your face was from the alcohol. Your neck and ears were burning and all of Harry’s soft touches were making you fuzzy. The way he was whispering in your ear…

“Okay. I’ll go with you to your room tonight,” you spat out quickly before you could change your mind.

Harry’s gaze lowered to your breasts again, his arrogant grin in place, “I know, darling. I was just waiting for you to admit it. You ready then?”

If he wasn’t so hot you’d have changed your mind at his cocky response. But god was he alluring. And somehow, his egotistical attitude was putting you at ease a bit. Because it would possibly be much easier to not get your feelings mixed up for a guy like him. It could just be a one-night stand. Like so many other people indulged in (which you always found absurd).

You both walked to the coat check to get your things before Harry led you, with his hand at your low back to the elevators.

You draped your wool coat over your shoulders and stood awkwardly in the elevator next to the man you were leaving with. You couldn’t believe yourself. You were 28 years old so it shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal but it was. You’d never done anything like it before.

“Are you nervous?”

You sighed and nodded as you looked up at the man, “A little. Haven’t ever done anything like this.”

Harry hummed and nodded, “I can tell. That’s okay. I’ll take the lead.”

There was a black car waiting for you at the curb as soon as you exited the building. A man who was standing near the car opened the back door and gestured for you to get in. You followed behind Harry and the door was shut, closing you off from the outside and loud noises of the city to the dark leather interior of the car. Harry’s hand slid up your exposed thigh the moment you’d settled into the seat, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me and you.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Are you always like this? So confident about everything?”

Harry laughed and squeezed at your thigh, “If I wasn’t confident I wouldn’t be as successful as I am.”

You guessed that made sense. You just found it so strange that he was so sure of himself even when he hardly knew you at all.

You felt Harry’s long, ringed fingers slide upward over your plushy thighs in search of your panties most likely. And when he leaned over you and took your jaw with his free hand and smushed his mouth against yours it felt like crystalized water beginning to melt and drip and pool onto the ground.

He pulled your hand onto his lap and pressed your palm over his crotch, to which you felt as he grew harder and harder as the seconds passed with your lips connected.

When he was satisfied that you would be keeping your hand in place as you pressed down harder he raised his hand to your breast, his palm placed over the soft velvet before he lowered his mouth to your neck causing you to lean back the slightest for his access.

The car ride ended before you even realized you’d been moving through the city streets when the door you were sitting next to opened and the driver looked in at you two all disheveled and mid-kiss with his hand out for you to take.

Harry walked you into the hotel, which happened to be the same one you had a room at (how convenient you thought). The elevator ride up to his room was not unlike the car ride where you’d lost track of time and space when his lips were on yours and his tongue softly swiped at your mouth. You’d never had a man act this way with you before. It almost felt like desperation. Like he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

Guiding you off the elevator and to his room, you felt buzzy and your heart was bouncing around in your chest wildly. His hand was at the back of your neck, his long fingers gently ghosting over your skin.

The moment you were pushed into his room Harry stood over you and began to loosen his tie, “Take your dress off. God, I need to see you.”

You were already worked up as you panted, keeping your eyes on his, slowly unzipping the back of your dress and stepping out. You had forgotten that you were wearing a nude shapewear slip that kept your tummy rolls in place and your breasts pert. The back of the slip was low cut to accommodate your dress. You looked down over yourself and stuck your fingers into the fabric to pull it down and as your breasts were revealed Harry groaned and leaned down to wrap his pink lips over your nipple. You watched his tongue drag over your plump flesh and his fingers dig into your heavy tits as he worked his way around both sides.

You were pressed against the wall as he pinned your arms back and kissed his way up your tits to your neck and then he found your lips.

Finally, he backed away, giving you space to finish the reveal of your body to him as he continued removing his own clothes.

You watched tattoos appear on his skin and the more buttons he undid the more you saw of him. He was strong and muscular. His pecs were impressive and he had a soft six-pack hidden under the fabric that you only saw once he tossed his shirt off. Tattoos on his arms scattered over his skin.

Tugging at your slip to get it off you knew Harry’s eyes were on your body. But you weren’t going to stop now. Even if you were slightly embarrassed. This was happening and you knew he wanted it. Sometimes you worried about the logistics of sex being as heavy as you were, especially when it came to being with a guy who was not at all. But Harry’s build was masculine and broad and he was clearly going to be able to handle you.

When his pants were off and he was down to his underwear you knew he was enjoying the view of all your bits based on the thick lump under the fabric. You were left standing in your silky black panties when he stood over you and smoothed his hands up your arms and palmed over your tits, “Jesus fucking Christ look at you. Get on the bed for me.”

You swallowed and stepped toward the area of the room where the bed was and sat at the edge, watching as he stalked after you. His eyes were dark as he crawled over you and nudged you with him into the middle of the perfectly made bed, soft and luxurious feeling under your skin.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he smoothed his lips against yours as he palmed over your skin down to your thigh, pinching at the fleshy insides as he pushed your legs open, putting his knees down into the mattress to keep you spread with his thighs.

He kept his lips working over yours, his tongue smearing against your tongue wetly as you felt his fingers dip down to your panties and then to the wet patch at your center. You could tell you were wet before he even touched you. He’d turned you on with ease. His voice, his body, his eyes, his confidence…

You felt him smile against your lips when he dredged his fingers up and down over your wet panties, right where your labia was. Soft strokes of his fingers pushed the fabric of your panties between your pussylips until he dragged a finger up and found your clit and you gasped. He circled over your clit, pressing the wet fabric into you.

When he lowered himself, using his lips and his tongue down your body as he went he looked up at your face after dotting kisses over your fleshy tummy, “You’re gorgeous and you smell so good. Such a dirty girl, though, aren’t you?” He dabbed more warm kisses down your stomach to just above your panties, “All wet for me like you’re desperate for cock,” he licked along the band of your panties and looked up at you again as he adjusted himself between your legs, “Are you desperate for cock, Y/n? Need me to take care of you tonight?”

You nodded, “Oh my god…” your words came out as a whisper, “Yes, Harry.”

When you felt his tongue glide up your crease over your wet panties your mouth dropped open wide. He was not holding back with the foreplay so far. You were usually disappointed in sex, the few times you’d had it. Foreplay was an afterthought. And only a handful of times did you ever receive any kind of mouth-to-pussy action, which you assumed was due to your size.

But Harry was having no trouble treating you like some kind of irresistible sex pot. He pushed your thighs harder and raked his tongue up and down over you until you’d bucked upward just a bit.

Harry’s fingers pulled at the waistband of your panties, “Taking these off because I need more.”

You felt your panties being moved down your legs then Harry returned with enthusiasm, his lips all over your cunt, sliding his tongue through your folds and his fingers pinching into your flesh before he poked the tip of his wet muscle to your clit and began to lick all around it, lapping you up and teasing you to the point you were shaking and whining, proving him right about how desperate you were.

When he finally stopped his teasing licks he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. You gasped loudly and moaned, to which Harry moaned into your pussy.

His shoulders were against the back of your thighs as he masterfully licked you out and kissed your clit until you were reaching down with one hand to slide your fingers into his thick curls.

And that only seemed to stir something more ravenous in him. He growled when he felt you pulling at his roots and suddenly you felt his fingertips at your entrance before he pushed them in slowly, the metal of his rings being nudged in the slightest. You were in an alternate universe. Somewhere that only existed you and Harry and the bed you were on as you laid spread out for him to pleasure.

He was good with his tongue. He used it over your clit like he understood what you needed, putting pressure where it was vital and then slurping you into his mouth making your entire body quiver in ecstasy. His repeated movements, soft tonguing, pulling at your clit, the bump of his fingers through your walls and into your delicate warmth, the precipice of your orgasm was taunting you.

“Harry!” You yelped when he sucked your clit in especially roughly and his fingers dug in deep making your pussy squelch.

He smiled and lifted his mouth, speaking against your cunt, hot breath coating your labia and clit, “Feels good, Y/n? You gonna let me give you an orgasm?”

You moaned pitifully and nodded to yourself as you scrunched your face when he attached his wet lips back to your clit and curled his fingers just right, “Yes! Oh my god…”

You had never felt anything like it before. Like Harry. And maybe it wasn’t that he was all that good at cunnilingus (he was), but perhaps it was the way he was handling you. The way he was so eager to make you feel good. The way he wasn’t worried about his own throbbing cock between his legs, growing heavier by the minute as he sucked and licked and kissed your cunt.

His focus was on you completely and you felt that. You felt his attention and his devotion to your pleasure before his. And that was what did it for you. It was the care and thoughtfulness of it all. It wasn’t like anything you’d experienced with any man before and it pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm rolled out of you in waves as you writhed under him and cried curses and nonsense into the room. He held you down with one hand as well as he could so he could lavish you with his mouth until you were done with your unraveling. His fingers stroked your insides as you pulsed around them and felt the tingle of your clit being overwhelmed by his lips. You gasped and laughed at the way he continued ravaging you well past what was necessary.

Releasing his hair you pushed yourself up by your elbows to see his face still between your legs, his eyes closed like he was enjoying it just as much as you had. It might have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life. But that could have been all those feel-good chemicals being released in your brain post-orgasm.

You pushed at his forehead to indicate you were done, “Okay!” You tried closing your legs but Harry pulled his fingers from your pussy and pressed you down as he licked up and up and up. Until finally he opened his eyes and looked at you, lips still making out with your pussy as you laughed and tried pulling away.

“It’s too much!” You giggled and moved your hips under him.

Finally, he parted from your labia and pushed himself up over you, caging you in as he hovered, “Good?” He raised his brows.

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” You laughed as you spoke.

Harry grinned and you watched him move away from you, pulling his underwear down and exposing his weighty cock, thick and long. Yes. He’d be able to handle you just fine.

He grasped it in his hand and moved next to you. You sat up and reached out to feel him, velvety and warm under your palm before getting to your knees and looking up at him as you lowered your lips to his shaft. You wanted to feel it on your mouth and in your mouth.

Dragging your wetted lips down until you reached the base you gripped him and tongued your way up to his tip and heard a shallow gasp from his chest. Licking around his crown you pulled at his skin and wrapped your lips around just the very tip of his head before slipping your tongue around him and sucking softly.

A beautiful deep moan was music to your ears. He was enjoying it. So you indulgently lowered yourself down a bit more, feeling the width of him take up space inside your mouth and on your tongue. Gentle strokes of your lips over the top part of his shaft and over his swollen head felt good for you. You hadn’t given head in a long time. And you could tell Harry was into it.

He smelled good. Nice and clean and warm. You used your hand to pull at the base of his shaft up to your parted lips as you sucked on him and lapped around his skin.

When Harry’s moans turned into a rhythmic panting you felt his hand at your jaw, nudging you up until your lips were pulled away from his pretty cock, “You are desperate for cock. Sucking me like that? If I didn’t want fuck you so bad I’d let you finish me off with that gorgeous mouth.”

You shifted back as Harry leaned over you and pressed his mouth against yours, his hand at your neck pushing you down into the mattress. His mouth was wet and smelled like you as he smeared his lips on yours. You moaned when he parted from you and got off the bed.

You could hear the crinkling of the wrapper from the condom as he sorted himself out and then crawled back next to you, taking your hand, “How’s that sound, Y/n? Want my cock inside your soft pussy? Hmm?”

Looking down at his hard length, covered in a condom, and back into his eyes you nodded, “Yeah,” you were breathless.

The grin on Harry’s face as he moved between your legs, his eyes on yours was like someone who’d just gotten the best news they’d heard all day. He thread his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hand down into the mattress near your head.

The front of his strong thighs pushed against the inside of yours as he positioned himself over you. His cock heavy on your belly before he moved back, letting go of your hand to grasp himself.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. I want to hear how good it makes you feel, okay?” His tip dragged through your wet labia, up and down, “Just lie there like the pretty little thing you are, and let me fuck you deep.”

You nodded as you watched his eyes. He was looking down at where his cock was brushing over your wet and puffy pussylips, his lips parted as he bumped into your clit and then smacked his girth down over you.

The sound of his cock dragging through your arousal made you feel like a different person. No man had ever taken the time to indulge the way Harry was. It was clear by the look on his face that he liked everything he saw and even how soaked you were.

You felt the tip of his broad head nudge into your entrance as he looked at you with dark pupils. He pulled his brows together as he savored the feel of you and gently pushed through the ring of your wet muscle. Just knowing that you were making him feel like that had you moaning with your eyes locked on his.

“Feel that, Y/n?” He slowly dipped in and pulled back, wetting the condom as he went, pushing in deeper on each thrust forward.

“I feel it…” your words came out shaky as his length was forced through your slick walls, spreading your insides apart slowly.

Harry inhaled a breath and let out a deep moan when his cock reached as far as he could take it, “Taking my cock so good,” he pulled back and looked down at the scene between your legs. All wet and puffy, his cock coated in your creamy arousal. He loved the way your pussy gripped him and your labia stretched around his cock, “Gonna be dreaming of this,” he pressed his thumb over the space where his cock was moving into your entrance and then up to your clit to rub circles softly, wet and warm.

“Ohhh…” you whimpered when his thumb pressed into your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your entire body was boiling and buzzing as Harry rocked into you, his balls thwacking slowly into your ass.

“Yeah? Tell me how you like it, pretty girl.”

How could you answer this man with his dick lodged so deep in your tummy? How did he expect you to make a coherent sentence with the way his thumb was stroking your clit back and forth? How could your brain form any sort of response when his cock was dragging through your insides and pressing into all your bits, hitting your hidden spots like his shape was made just for you?

“I want it… Mmm… like that…” was all you could bear to squeak out when he smacked into you in one harsh thud.

“Harder? Softer?” His thumb never ceased the yummy caressing of your fleshy pearl.

“Fuck!” You gasped when he smacked into you again, causing your body to jolt upward from the force.

“Like that? Need it a little rougher, Y/n? Need my cock to split you in half?” Again, a harsh thrust into your guts that had you gurgling and falling apart too soon.

“Oh she wants it a little rough, I can tell. Your cute pussy likes a good pounding doesn’t she?”

You held your breath when you felt him angle over you and sink down into you until it hurt. Until his long cock was buried in so deep his balls were tucked against your ass as he ground himself in, “Pussy like this needs a lot of attention. Lots of care…” he moaned when you clenched around him, “Want me to take care of you? Want to feel what my cock can do to this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, please, Harry!” You grasped onto his forearm as he rolled solidly into you, deep and slow, slushy and sopping between your thighs.

“Yeah? Gonna stuff myself so far into you that you can’t breathe. Gonna make you come so hard you’ll never want another cock again.”

You moaned and felt his crushing weight over you as he continued grinding his hips against yours but then suddenly he was pulling out and you felt a sting on your thigh when he smacked you, “Get on all fours.”

You were blurry and floaty as you rolled over and pushed yourself up to do as he asked. Your pussy puffy and begging for more of his cock.

His hands gripped the side of your hips tight and you smushed your face down to the mattress before you felt his cock rip into you in one punishing stroke. You cried out and he did it again. And again. His cock pummeled into you repeatedly, punching the air from your lungs and giving your pussy the best fucking of its life.

You did like it hard. A little rough. Nothing wild, just something that you could feel for a couple of days. Something that made you gasp and brace for more.

“Holy fuck…” Harry gritted as he fucked into you, watching his dick disappear repeatedly. Your pretty round bottom bouncing and wiggling at each plunge. He dug his fingers into your ample flesh and spread you out so he could watch as you gripped him exactly like he loved. The little noises you were making had him reeling.

It was his favorite. A beautiful woman with her ass in the air as he railed her deep. But especially when it was a nice big ass. He loved to be able to grip something in his hands. To squeeze and smack. It always felt so much better to have something to hold on to. Not that he didn’t love slender women. He certainly did. But there was nothing like the feminine physique of a woman with meat on her bones, wide hips, a big tummy, and extra bits to touch and run his fingers over. It was fucking sexy.

You could feel him as he worked you open. He buried in deep and then pulled back until his thick tip was being pushed through your entrance again and again. He was long and every inch of him pulled and pushed through your walls, sliding along all your bits and ridges making your skin heat up.

Then you felt his chest against your back and his cock was angled so far inside of you that your eyes nearly crossed, “Love your little gurgles and moans, Y/n. Feels good on my cock?” He rolled into you, keeping himself stuffed to the hilt.

“Yes! Fuck, Harry!” You turned your head to speak so he could hear you and then you felt his lips on your back as he kept rocking into you languidly, never pulling back, only dipping into you, swiveling his hips to ensure you could feel every part of his cock moving through you.

You felt a tear drip from your eye as he reached down for your hand and moved it toward your pussy, “Rub that wet clit, sweet girl. Want to see you quivering under me again.”

The moment your fingertips came into contact with your puffy nub you moaned and all you could feel was Harry’s warmth and his big cock and your clit being worked just how you liked.

He began to rut into you with unforgiving strength. Your body was being smacked into and your skin was beginning to burn where his hips were striking your ass. It felt incredible. It felt like a man who knew what he was doing.

“Yes! Yes!” You shakily cried out. Harry’s long shaft was gliding in and out and you could feel him every time your fingertips moved back the slightest. His heavy cock slipping into your pussy vigorously as you ran your fingers back and forth, up and down on your clit.

Harry put a hand on your low back and settled his thumb into the top of your crack as he watched your cunt swallow him on each thrust. He bit his lip at the gorgeous sight and lowered his other hand to your right cheek, pulling at your flesh to give himself a better look at how you were taking him. How perfect you were for his cock.

When he noticed your moans growing louder and more desperate and then saw your thighs shaking he pounded into you with deliberate, long strokes so you could really feel him inside of you.

And feel him you did. His length filled you up and pulled back, before pressing back in until your world began to spin and your pussy was powerless to your orgasm. You reared yourself back onto his cock and cried out pathetically as Harry breathed heavily and felt your cunt sucking him in and spasming around him.

“Oh, baby…” he moaned and watched more cream coat his cock from your pussy. You were coming hard, lips wide open as you cried out and gasped, and the way you were clenching around his cock felt like the best thing he’d ever experienced during sex. You were fucking sexy.

When your voice lowered and your body stopped quivering Harry halted his movements and ran his hands on your back gently and down to your bum, keeping his cock lodged inside of you, “Creamed all over my cock, Y/n,” swiped his thumb around the area where you two were connected and lifted it to his mouth to taste.

You panted and smiled into the blanket when he suddenly pulled out and popped your bottom with his palm, “On your back. Want to see that pretty face again.”

You were on the verge of being completely wiped out. You knew he hadn’t come yet, though, and you felt like he deserved it with how fucking good he was. Two orgasms already. That was unheard of for you.

Harry helped you situate and he fit himself between your thighs. You looked down at his cock and noted he was right about you creaming all over him. White gobs of your arousal at his shaft and in the thatch of dark, trimmed hair at his base. God his cock was good.

“You feel so good on my cock, Y/n. You know that?” He pressed his tip inside of you, making you drop your mouth open and he gasped. The way he stretched you apart was insane. It felt incredible.

“Fuck… your pussy needs my cock inside of her. Yeah? I could fuck this sweet cunt all day and never get tired of it. Fuck, baby…” he moaned his words as he thrust into you, his hips dragging against you and your clit being pushed into with each plunge.

You took your breasts in your palms and kneaded at them as you watched Harry’s face twist up in rapturous despair. Every roll of his hips was torture for him. His body wanted to come but he had planned on you having one more orgasm. Wanted to feel you squeezing and pulsing around him as he came with you. The decadence of being able to feel your pussy coming around him as he was pouring into you would be bliss.

The edge of his hairline was wet with sweat. You knew he was working hard to give you his cock the way you needed it. His arms were flexing as he held himself up over you, back and thighs clenching and stretching as his muscles exerted, loosening and tightening.

Now there was no slap of skin or the sound of thuds filling the room, it was only hot breaths and gasps and wet pussy being fucked. The occasional distant sound of people moving past his suite on their way to their own.

Deeper and deeper he stuffed himself as he kept his radiant green eyes locked on your face. Your insides were bowing and tensing and vibrating with delight. It was the best you’d ever gotten and his handsome face watching you had your head spinning and your body melting under him. He was too good. The way he was tugging his cock inside of you and stroking your walls and fitting himself deep into your guts like he was trying to reach up into your spine and your lungs under your ribcage… it was going to stick with you for a long time. And he was probably right. You’d be dreaming of his cock. You were sure of it.

His pacing was perfect; smooth, wet thrusts and a satisfying angle that had your whole body resonating with sex and electric crackles like you’d never felt. His undulating hips kissing your clit each time he ground into you.

“Look at your tits jiggling, Y/n. Fucking so hot…” he panted his words like he was out of breath, “Damn baby,” he moaned as he slowed his stride for a moment to collect himself. His balls were already tightening against his body, ready to release too soon.

He leaned over you and pressed his lips against yours and it made your skin and pores and nerves spark and convect. Little by little your pulse accelerated until you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His tongue inside your mouth and his perfect cock inside of your tummy, the smell of him and of you and the soft bed beneath your back- it had you nearly going up in flames.

When he finally began to move again, when he’d steadied his composure so he could last a little longer you gasped into his mouth.

Now his long strokes were thick and stunted, his shaft inching in and in and in until you couldn’t breathe. His nose pressed into yours and his lips moved around your lips, smearing saliva over your warm, plush mouth with his tongue. It was filthy, the way he kissed. Wet, aching. Like he was fucking your lips with his tongue at the same time he was filling your pussy with his cock.

You felt his muscles begin to shake as he parted from your mouth and looked down at you. Blown-out pupils, pink parted lips, and a flushed face. He was about to come and you could see it on his face and in the way he was panting and getting louder with each jerk of his hips. It was delicious.

“You gonna come, baby? Gonna milk my cock with your cunt, squeeze around me, and drain me?”

Grabbing onto his forearms you nodded and feebly whimpered, “Yes… oh my god…”

Harry groaned as he canted his hips sloppily and his thrusts grew erratic as he held back to wait for you to come first.

You’d always heard of the mythical concept of a cock fitting together perfectly with the right pussy and how it could make women come from penetration alone when they’d never been able to before. You’d never experienced it and thought it was just a made-up fantasy. A wild fable.

But you were wrong. Harry’s cock proved you wrong. He was nudging into things inside of you that even your vibrator missed and as shocking as it was to know you were about to come, yet again, you were of no mind to think too much about that because your body was submitting to the way he was handling you and your pussy was already beginning to flutter around him and pulse as you gasped and dropped your mouth wide.

Yes, you were having one of those kinds of orgasms that you could feel from the inside out. That made your ears feel stuffy and your vision go white as you cried out loudly.

Harry choked out a gasp as soon as he felt your walls gripping him and you tossed your head back, moaning his name over and over again like you needed the room to know who was making you fall apart.

Your pussy wrapped around him so perfectly and he looked down from your perfect tits to your face and he lost it. His own cry of your name was loud as he threw his head back and throbbed, releasing into his condom, his come filling the tip full as you milked him with your pulsing orgasm.

Divine. Complete and utter perfection. He hadn’t come so hard in years and the way you responded to him only coaxed him deeper into his own ecstasy.

When his cock stopped pumping and twitching he opened his eyes and looked down at you looking all fucked out and satisfied. Exactly what he had hoped for when he brought you to his room. Better even.

When your gaze finally found his he smiled down at you. He figured it would be nice to have you again in the morning if you were up for it because he certainly didn’t want to have you leave. Not yet. Maybe he’d order room service and you two could talk some more. Maybe another round or perhaps you’d both just crash after that marathon. But he knew he’d want to give you a parting gift in the morning at the very least. One of those soft and lazy morning fucks before kissing you and sending you off so he could catch his flight the following afternoon.

Yeah. That sounded nice to him.

But the sudden sound of his phone buzzing had him turning to look at the nightstand. You’d barely recovered from your scorching orgasm when he rolled off of you and quickly picked up the phone, his back to you, “Hello?”

You inhaled deeply. You still couldn’t believe you’d just done that. With a stranger nonetheless.

“No, I’m okay. Just ran to grab the phone is all.” He was panting just enough that whoever was on the line had wondered what he’d been doing. You turned your head to look at him. His back was to you.

“Sure, babe. See you then.”

You sat up quickly. Babe?

Harry stood from the bed and picked up his pants, “I’m sure you can get your clothes on and be on your way quickly. Yeah?”

You instinctively covered your chest with your mouth dropped open, “What?!” Harry paused before putting his shirt on and looked at you with an unamused expression, “I said you need to leave.” He raised his voice a notch as if the reason you asked him what was because you hadn’t heard.

You shook your head and slid off the bed feeling dirty and shameful, reaching to the ground for your discarded dress, “I know what you said. I was surprised that you were… never mind.”

The sudden change in his attitude toward you was a shock. He’d been so attentive and affectionate and now he was cold. Inconsiderate. You struggled to keep up with the abrupt shift in his temperament.

Harry walked to the window as you shimmied into your dress and attempted zipping it up, “Fuck…” you mumbled under your dress. The last thing you wanted to do was ask this asshole to help you but really didn’t want to walk out of his room with your dress half unzipped and your ass crack hanging out.

“Can you please help?” You sighed and looked over at him. God, you hated how attractive he was, especially now that he was being so cold to you suddenly.

 Harry silently shook his head to himself as he tucked his shirt in and walked toward you as if it were some terrible chore to help you.

“There. Now I really need you to go. Quickly.”

You hadn’t even had the chance to wipe up in the bathroom or pee. You were stunned at his behavior.

You gave him your dirtiest scowl, scooped up your underwear, and grabbed your small purse, stuffing your bra and panties inside. The slip you had to carry in your hands. As you pulled your shoes back on your feet one at a time, Harry was plucking the condom off the floor and looking around the room in a slight panic.

“Fuck you, Harry. This is rude. You didn’t have to treat me like garbage. Not like I was gonna fall for you or something you prick.” When your feet were securely in your shoes Harry walked across the room toward you as you tried to make your way to the door to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turned to look at him.

“Can you toss this in the garbage near the elevator for me? Thanks,” he pressed the used condom that was stuffed into a tissue into your hand and you nearly lost it. Nearly fucking karate chopped his ass to the ground and stomped on his face. But then you realized something. He was in a hurry to get you out of his room because he had someone coming up to see him. Someone he wanted to hide the condom from. A lover? Girlfriend? Wife?

Instead of responding verbally you flipped him off and slammed the door behind yourself. But before you walked away from the door you pulled the condom from the tissue and put it over his doorknob, nice and tight. The used rubber was still heavy with his come and you smiled as you dropped the tissue onto the floor and pulled out a cocktail napkin and pen from your purse, pressed your lips into it to leave it lightly stained with your leftover lipstick, and then wrote Thank you, Harry xx. You balanced the napkin right over the condom on the doorknob and then grinned to yourself as you walked down the hallway to the elevator. You sure were glad your room was in the same hotel. When the elevator doors opened a pretty blonde stepped off and rushed past you, headed in the direction of Harry’s room. She barely even glanced your way before you stepped onto the elevator and pressed 2 for your floor.

So maybe it wasn’t a terrible ending to the night after all.

Part 2

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[pixiemunsons]

for your viewing pleasure (em)

the girl in eddie's favourite porno mag looks real familiar...

over 4k words (i couldn't help it i'm sorry), best friends to lovers, dirty talk, joking about non consensual touching (it's a single line and absolutely a joke), lots of pet names, weed use obvi, eddie's been jerking it to a pic of someone who looks like reader so if that's an issue don't read, no use of y/n. reader’s hair reaches her shoulders. also unprotected sex (even these two idiots know that’s a bad idea)

no vol two spoilers here!

a/n: i'm so horny for eddie munson i just needed to write this. i'm still working on multiple bridgerton one shots so don't worry, i've not neglected them, eddie is just my fave rn

you quite literally could not believe your eyes.

you had really seen some shit these last few years. visiting your friend robin at work one afternoon had pulled you into an absolute mess of russians and alternate dimensions and kids with psychic powers and numbers for names. if anyone had told you two years ago that steve ‘the hair’ harrington would be dropping you at school most mornings, that your closest friends would be a group of fifteen year olds, that you would be best pals with eddie fucking munson? you’d never believe them. but this was truly the most unbelievable thing you’d ever seen.

you don’t know why. it was unmistakable. uncanny, really. laid out, literally bare in front of you.

the girl in the centrefold of eddie munson’s most dog-eared, crinkle-paged, unnervingly sticky porno mag looked just like you.

you knew snooping in his room was wrong, but you had no idea there were still secrets between the two of you anymore. you’d been joined at the hip since steve had introduced you the year before, and you weren’t really looking through his stuff, you just wanted to find his stash so you could roll you guys something for when he got back from his shower. but then your fingers had closed around something glossy under his bed and you just had to know what was in it. you weren’t expecting anything like this, maybe just some softcore shit you could tease him about for a couple weeks, but the magazine had opened on its own to its apparently most viewed page, and your jaw had dropped with it.

you couldn’t see all of her, just from the lips down to the knees. she was led down, mouth spread in a wide grin, lacy white underwear adorning her hips. her breasts were exposed, nipples pebbled to the seemingly cold air, and she was trailing her hands up her stomach teasingly. her knees were bent to the side in a look-but-can’t-touch sort of gesture. it was almost tasteful compared to the open mouths and hairy bushes of the other photos. and she literally looked just like you. the hair falling over her shoulder was the exact shade as yours, and even her breasts seemed to be the same size. her skin could’ve been matched to yours at a make up counter, and the shape of her hips and thighs was so reminiscent you would’ve believed they were yours had you not known otherwise.

so why the fuck was eddie looking at this photo? there were a couple of possibilities to be pondered. first, it was a second hand magazine. as gross as that thought was, the person who handed it to him might not have even known you. it was also possible that eddie had never thought of what you might look like under your clothes, which whilst a little deflating (god knows you’d thought about what he looked like under his) was a definite possibility. and then there was the alternative, which was that eddie had realised she looked like you and jacked off anyway, which meant…

you didn’t have time to think about it, though, because eddie was making his way noisily back to his room. quickly, you threw the magazine under his pillow and led back on it, rearranging your skirt and pretending to pick at your nails just as he threw the door open. he was still wet and, you were glad to see, completely shirtless. he leant an arm against his doorframe, the very top of his boxers peaking out from under his tight jeans in a way that had your mouth watering just a little bit. you couldn’t deny that eddie was attractive, and more than once you’d woken up in a cold sweat after having certain dreams about him. but he’d never given any indication that your feelings were reciprocated. sure, he flirted with you, and he loved being close to you, slinging an arm over your shoulder in queues and having a hand on your thigh when he drove. but that was just how he was. with everyone.

‘wanna smoke something, babe?’ he winked, and with a roll of your eyes he came and sat next to you, dragging his lunchbox out. of course. he kept it in his underwear drawer.

───

‘baby, i’m tellin’ you, the lord of the rings is a fucking epic!’ eddie cried out, joint in one hand and the other waving wildly through the air as he tried to prove his point. you plucked it from his fingers, allowing yourself to indulge in the way they brushed yours for a second.

‘dude, i don’t disagree, but i’m saying it’s not long enough for all the lore! like, come the fuck on, it’s two hours long for like, seven books! that’s at least four movies,’ you argued your own back, laughing at how eddie rolled his eyes. ‘some of us can read, munson, and those books are fuckin’ long.’ you smiled at him sarcastically, squealing as his hands reached out to tickle your waist. his body rolled halfway onto yours, pulling the blunt from your hand and taking one final hit before stubbing it out on his bedside table. long fingers clasped around yours, dragging both hands above your head to tickle your arms and you were laughing and from under your head… an unmistakable sound of paper rustling.

you froze instantly, and you knew eddie had heard it. your eyes shot open, and you could feel blood spreading up your chest and neck and across your face.

‘sweetheart…’ eddie looked into your eyes, and in that awful second, you knew exactly what was about to happen. slowly, carefully, with both of your hands still trapped in one of his above your head and his pelvis pressed into your left hip, he reached under his pillow and came out with the magazine. folded open on the centrefold. you were frozen under him, horrified and in shock and vaguely aware of the fact that your skirt had been rucked up to your mid-thigh by eddie’s leg and your underwear was dangerously close to being exposed. no time for that now, though. not when eddie had caught you going through his stuff and he was going to kick you out or call you a weirdo or, oh god-

‘i see you found my dirty little secret, babe. what’d’ya think?’

your head shot up. he asked you like he was asking about the weather, so casual and restrained. not the voice of a man who’d just caught his best friend rifling through his porn collection. your words came out trembling, made worse by the fact that he still had a hold of your wrists.

‘i didn’t mean to, i was looking for your weed.’ 

eddie scoffed, looking down into your face once again. his pupils had blown out, a mix of the high and something else, and his eyes looked black.

‘you sure baby? because you seem nervous. i think you saw something you like.’ his voice was still teasing, but there was something darker lurking there. you swallowed harshly, and he abruptly let go of your wrists, sitting up.

‘was it this one? perv.’ he joked, unfolding the picture to show her in her entirety. even from this angle, she was just like you, and you gulped again.

‘it was open on that one when i found it,’ you murmured, and for a split second eddie looked… embarrassed? the tips of his ears were flushing a bright red under his hair. you took this as an opportunity to sit up under him, and now he was half straddling your left thigh as he sat on his knees. you fiddled with the edge of your skirt, thinking about how he’d called you a perv. perv! after you’d found outthat he had been staring at a picture of you - well, not you, but, you know - naked! and before you knew it, the words were tumbling from your lips and you tried to stop them, you really did but-

‘she looks an awful lot like me, eddie.’

his face, which had been hidden behind his curtain of long hair as he played with the ragged corners of the magazine, shot up, and his eyes met yours once more. this time he seemed even more embarrassed, if possible. his cheeks were bright red, eyes open in shock, and he was gnawing painfully on his lower lip, a habit you’d noticed he kept when he was nervous. he opened his mouth to respond but you had already started now, and the words were falling from your lips like vomit.

‘i mean, you can’t see her face, but that’s what i look like when i’m- well, not exactly like that but her boobs are just like mine and… not that you think about my boobs or anything or you’ve even seen them to know what they look like but it’s actually a bit creepy how alike we look.’ your hands flew to cover your mouth, and you were wide-eyed. ‘not that you’re creepy! god no, i mean, i’m flattered, really, but…’ you shut up then, not because you had realised that you were rambling like robin but because there was a hand on the back of your neck and one on your waist and eddie’s lips were on yours.

they were chapped and slightly raw from him chewing on them, but so soft and his tongue was minty as he eased it into you. he was breathing heavily, and a subdued moan worked it’s way into your mouth when you gripped his bare shoulders and tugged him into you. you had no idea what this meant, mind reeling as he pulled you closer so you were now straddling his thigh, both of you sat up on your knees. the hand that spread over your waist splayed across the expanse of your back, travelling lower until it met the crease between your ass and thigh. his long fingers pinched at the skin there, pulling a whimper from you as you rolled your hips against his leg in response. his own bucked up against you, the denim seam of his jeans rubbing against your soft inner thigh and making you gasp. you pulled away ever so slightly to meet eddie’s eyes, and he tried to chase your lips, letting out a whine.

then he was dragging his lips down your neck to where it met your shoulder, working at the skin with his teeth and chuckling as you whimpered.

‘eds!’

‘yes, babe?’ 

his voice came from under your line of sight, muffled against your reddening neck, and you craned it to try and get a glimpse of his face. instead, you saw him pull away, smiling proudly at the mark that he had most definitely left with his mouth. cockily, he dragged his eyes up to yours.

‘the girl in the magazine-‘

‘would you believe me if i told you i bought it because she looks like you?’ he looked almost bashful asking you, a total contrast to a moment ago, and you couldn’t help the way your jaw dropped. 

‘i know i’ve never seen you naked, but some of these skirts you wear leave very little to the imagination, and you were wearing a white shirt when we jumped into lover’s lake that time. worst place to pop a boner.’ he chuckled as you hit his arm lightly. he was right though; you’d dived in after steve without hesitation, and eddie had had to lend you his jean jacket for your ‘modesty’.

‘i’m sorry, baby, i thought i’d been makin’ it clear how i felt about you.’ his voice had dropped to a murmur as his eyes explored your face, lingering on the way your lips had swollen with his kiss. without thinking, he reached up to cup your cheek, and he wanted the way your eyelashes fluttered closed imprinted on the inside of his brain forever.

‘thought you were just playin’ with me, eds.’ you gulped as he ran his thumb over your lower lip, tugging on it gently. his forehead creased, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

‘never playing with you, baby. i wouldn’t fuck with your feelings like that,’ his nose nudged against yours as he pulled you into another searing but short kiss, ringed fingers clutching your chin so that he could commandeer the exchange. he angled your face delightfully, leaning you back so you had to arch your chest against his to follow him.

‘wish you’d made it clearer,’ you gasped when his left hand clutched your ass, pulling your crotch towards his own, ‘could’ve been doing this since that night at the lake.’

a laugh rumbled in his chest, fingers stretching back to grasp the back of your head.

‘wanted you a lot longer than that night, babe. i’ve had that mag since i was sixteen.’ you giggled at this, pulling back to stare at him in disbelief.

‘is that right, munson?’ you arched an eyebrow at him. he held a hand up as if in defense, leaving the other firmly attached to your ass.

‘you said it was flattering! would it make you feel better if i said it’s not just because i think you’re hot?’ he asked, sounding sincere. ‘i’ve wanted you a long time, gorgeous, not just to fuck you. i wanna make you mine, y’know? that’s why i’m always callin’ you baby, and touchin’ you up a little-‘

‘i fucking knew it wasn’t an accident when you grabbed my tit last week!’

‘i didn’t grab it, i brushed it. and anyway, i meant how i’m always draggin’ you closer, tryna keep you under my arm, especially when you wear sexy shit like this.’ he reached down to rub the hem of your short black skirt between a thumb and finger. you had noticed the effect that you had on him when you wore certain items of clothing; long socks, denim shorts, band shirts. you always thought it was because he was just a man - god knows you’d caught harrington staring a couple times. but with eddie, you now knew it was different for you both. if you were honest with yourself, it had been building up to this moment for months. and you knew what you had to do.

‘look, eds, i’m gonna be honest with you. i really want that shit too. i want to get milkshakes in town, i wanna drive in the van with you, i wanna go see shitty bands in shitty bars outta town. but…’ you grabbed his hand and pushed it up your thigh, revelling in the way he groaned when his fingertips made contact with the damp fabric at the apex of your thighs. ‘right now, i really need you to do somethin’ about this.’

suddenly, you were on your back again. the movement made your tummy flip, butterflies erupting when eddie kissed you again. before, he’d been gentle; probing and exploring. this time, the kiss was tongues and teeth, and his hips were rutting against your thigh, pushing your skirt up to expose your underwear.

‘you’re fuckin’ kidding,’ eddie moaned out when he saw that you were wearing white. it wasn’t on purpose, but it was almost identical to the photo, and for a moment eddie munson thought he had died and gone to heaven. you made a move to pull your panties down your legs, but you swore you heard him growl before his hand flew out to stop them.

‘baby, i’m gonna need you to keep these on. turn over for me.’

you did as he said, flipping over so you were face down in his pillow, propped up on your elbows. behind you, you could feel eddie’s eyes burning into you. you could imagine how 

you probably looked right now; skirt flipped up, legs spread for eddie to kneel between them, wet spot between your legs as ringed fingers rubbed over your cheeks. two of them plunged between your legs suddenly, rubbing quickly over where you wanted him most, and you mewled and bucked your hips back towards him. a big hand pushed against your lower back, forcing you back down.

’shh, baby, i’m gettin’ there. just busy looking, you’ll have to wait a minute.’

his voice was hard but you knew he wanted it as much as you did, and you were proven right when, not a minute later, two long fingers pushed under the fabric and straight into your heat.

you couldn’t help the moan that slipped past your lips, hips keening back against his hand again as he searched for the spot that would make you scream. fingers crooked, eddie started stroking up against you, wrapping the other hand around your waist. he yanked you up so your back was pressed against his chest, and the change in angle led him right to what he was looking for.

‘fuck, eddie!’ you cried out, and you could feel his hard cock twitching against your ass through his jeans.

‘is that it baby? right there?’ he asked through gritted teeth, and the hand wrapped around your waist pushed its way down your skirt and into your underwear to rub at your clit. both hands were almost too much, and you would’ve been embarrassed at how quickly he had you working for release did it not feel so good. eddie was so caught up in making you cum that he didn’t even realise you had let go of his arm until your hand was wrapped around his dick, and he choked on a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

‘sweetheart, fuck, i can’t concentrate if you do that,’ he moaned out, clutching onto you even tighter than he had been before. you laughed breathily around a moan, hips grinding down on eddie’s fingers to speed up your impending orgasm.

‘sorta the idea, babe.’ eddie was nosing at your neck, pressing kisses to the back of your ear, and your words just made him work that little bit harder to get you there.

‘god, i really wanna fuck you right now.’

‘so do it.’

he stopped still and you turned around to look at him for the first time since he’d started touching you. he looked fucked out already; his lips were spit soaked and swollen, his chest was heaving and his eyes were wide open, drinking the image of you down.

‘fuck, babe, d’you really mean it? you don’t have to, i’m probably gonna have to beat off after this anyway.’ 

instead of answering, you reached down, stripping off your shirt and shimmying your skirt down your legs, leaving you sat in just your white underwear, pulled to one side. eddie’s knees almost buckled under him, and he grabbed your face to pull you into another kiss. the angle was awkward, you turning over your left shoulder, but it meant you could just about reach his bare cock and rub it through your wet folds. he jumped away like he’d been shocked, eyes pulled like a magnet down to where your bodies threatened to connect.

‘you’re not wearing a fucking bra either. you’re going to be the death of me one of these days,’ he moaned, and you had to stifle a laugh.

‘would it help if i said i never wear a bra around you?’

‘i oughtta put you over my knee and spank you, you dirty girl.’

‘promises, promises, munson. you gonna fuck me now or not?’

he chuckled darkly, swatting your ass cheek with a wink before leaning into his bedside drawer, sighing heavily when he opened it.

‘baby, i’m really sorry, but i’ve got no johnnies.’ eddie rested his chin on your shoulder, nipping at the skin there with his teeth. you leant back into his touch, swallowing heavily.

‘i never did this before,’ you said, and you could almost feel his ears perk up. ‘but i’m on the pill, so as long as you pull out…’

if he died now, he’d be dying a happy man, he was sure of it.

‘fuckin’ hell, babe, you sure?’ he grunted, teeth grazing your ear. ‘i needa hear you say it, sweetheart. tell eddie you want him to fuck you bareback.’ you supposed he was trying to be funny, but it sent a shiver down your spine that he didn’t miss.

‘does it turn you on when i talk to you like that, baby?’ he crooned, and you could just about babble out a ‘shit, yes!’ 

‘then tell me you want me to put it in,’ he teased, rubbing his cock through your folds and bumping your clit in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head.

‘eddie, i swear to fuckin’ god, put it in or i’ll just get myself off.’

‘as tempting as that is to watch, sweetheart,’ he muttered, squeezing your hip, ‘i think i’ll stick to this.’ and with that, he pushed himself in. 

he wasn’t going to put it all in at once; he was gonna spread you nice and slow, fuck it in and out slowly. he knew he was bigger than most girls were used to, and he was gonna use all his self control to make this as easy as possible for you. but as soon as he put the first inch in you were squirming, begging for more and sucking him in like a fucking vacuum and trying to sit down on it. not to mention how wet you were; he’d never known anything like it. so when you leant back and grabbed his arm and looked at him with those beautiful puppy dog eyes and pouty lips and begged ‘baby, please, just fuck me?’ 

well, he was a goner.

you were so turned on you barely even registered the pain of the stretch, but you knew from the way eddie was repeatedly bumping your g spot that he was bigger than anyone you’d ever had before. and he knew how to use it. he was holding it deep, fucking you in slow, grinding thrusts. every part of your body was touching a part of his, as if you were one person, moving together in perfect synchronicity to get you both there. eddie had never been in anyone bare before, and he was starting to feel like he’d never want to use a condom again; he could feel every part of you, and it was bringing him closer and closer to his release with every passing second.

‘eddie, i think i’m gonna cum already,’ you half slurred, half moaned, and he kissed your shoulder, increasing the tempo of his hips. suddenly, you felt the knot break and your orgasm washed over you in a crescendo, and you cried out eddie’s name as he fucked you through it. he was using his hands to guide your hips against his, all while whispering in your ear; ‘so good for me, babe, so fuckin’ good, gonna make me cum aren’t you sweetheart? such a beautiful girl, so naughty just for me, ’s that right?’ you were nodding along with his words, fingers clutching onto him tightly and so wrapped up in the moment that when he stilled his hips and gasped ‘oh fuck, babe, ‘m gonna cum, you need to get off,’ you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop rocking against him. your head was leant back against his shoulder, and you could hear him muttering frantically as he tried to hold onto his orgasm and push you off.

‘eddie, babe?’

‘sweetheart, please, i’m gonna cum, you need to-‘

‘calm down,’ you turned your head, kissing down his neck and stroking his hair gently, ‘just cum in me.’ you felt his thighs still under yours, then tremble as a rush of warmth filled you up. you wished you could bottle up the way eddie moaned into your ear, the way he pushed right up into you and filled you up to the brim, the way he sighed as you kissed his cheek when he finished.

‘babe, that was really hot, but fuck, we really shouldn’t have done that,’ he murmured, pulling out and feeling terrible at the way you whined.

‘’m on the pill, we’re good,’ you whispered, eyelids drooping as you climbed into eddie’s bed, completely naked.

‘shouldn’t you go, like, pee or?’ eddie asked, combing long fingers through your knotty hair, and you noticed he had, at least, pulled his boxers back on.

‘shhh, sleep time. i’ll do that later. we can get a plan b too, if you’re worried.’ you yawned, and eddie’s heart soared when you made grabby hands up at him. ‘now come get in bed, i need a cuddle.’

‘yes, ma’am.’

‘don’t make it fuckin’ weird, munson.’

#Eddie munson #Eddie stranger things #stranger things smut #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x female!reader #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson imagine #stranger things s4 #stranger things #eddie munson x female reader

[angry-geese]

The Weight - Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: smut//not osha compliant. arranged marriage au. blood/cannibalism mention. biting/size kink. unprotected sex, creampies. afab reader

synopsis: an arranged marriage au where the reader chooses sukuna instead of one of the men from her village

word count: 10.3k

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since probably last february and I finally got around to finishing it lol

jjk masterlist

As mid-afternoon turns to dusk, you realize you have nothing to show for your hours in these woods. You know, reasonably, you should cut your losses for the day, and return home. In a little over an hour, it’ll be dark, and navigating these woods will become a challenge. But winter has come and gone with a vengeance, leaving food stores low. The thought of fresh meat is too much for you to quit now.

Fresh tracks mark the once-smooth creek bed. Deer. At least three. They’ve bedded down here, as evident by the smell, and flattened patches of grass. For several meters, the tracks nearly overlap themselves, before heading off in separate directions. It's been years since you’ve traveled this deep into the woods, and those few times were accompanied by your father, or uncle. Your solitude has you jumping at every rustle of a leaf, and snapped twig. It's when the woods fall silent that you need to worry. That means a predator is near. As long as you can hear bugs, or birds, you'll be okay.

Further ahead—maybe twenty yards—is a buck that stopped to drink from the creek. 

You knock an arrow, lining the broadhead up with your target. Something feels wrong. The string feels too taut. It slips from your fingers prematurely. The arrow hits just behind the front shoulder, and—in theory—should puncture the heart. A shot like that—in theory—should drop an animal like this where it stands. Today it doesn't. The buck takes off running.

Between the footprints, and little droplets of blood, a clear trail is left behind. When you do finally come upon your prey, the crickets have fallen silent. The buck lays on its side in the grass, chest heaving. You ready your knife to put the poor thing out of its misery when something—someone—emerges from the treeline on the opposite side of the clearing. 

Your body is moving before you can fully process the situation. You flatten yourself out on the ground, hiding under the cover of some bushes. If the man does see you, then he makes no note of it. He draws closer, stopping to kneel beside the buck. It’s too dark to make out his face. Something about him has the hair on the back of your neck on end. He hauls the carcass up onto his shoulder, turning to return in the direction in which he came. 

The absurdness of it all has you frozen. You blink several times as if to make sure this isn't your mind playing tricks on you. Once reality sets in, you’re back on your feet, chasing after him.

“That's mine!” You say, hoping the volume of your voice is enough to scare off the thief. It isn't.

What you first assume to be another trick of the lighting becomes a horrifying reality as you notice the true size of the man. The man—being, or whatever he is—towers over you, completely dwarfing you in size. Mild annoyance is all that is visible on his face as he turns to you. From the deer, he rips out your arrow, tossing it at your feet. The broadhead has snapped off, as well as the shaft is bent. If you so desire, you suppose you could repair it. Not that you have any wish to. Sometimes it is simply better to cut your losses.

But you have more pressing things to deal with right now.

“And just what do you plan to accomplish, little lamb?” He asks. “A deer like this can weigh as much as a grown man. Do you plan to carry this back all by yourself?”

It’ll be tiring, but not impossible. Gutting and dressing it here would remove a lot of unnecessary weight, but would render plenty of valuable meat and organs useless. All that extra meat and skin could be used better elsewhere…

You are overcome with the urge to run, yet his gaze has your feet firmly planted on the ground. Your eyes fall to a small red splotch on his kimono—a blood stain. It can't be from the deer, it's far too old. It’s not until your knees knock together that you realize you’re trembling.

The action of him moving closer causes a cry of panic to leave you, unintentionally calling out for your father. 

“What—who are you?!” You ask as you scramble backwards. 

“I am Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses, my dear,” he says. “Now, shall we get this back to your home?”

Fear threatens to overcome you. Even if you could draw an arrow in time, you doubt it would truly hurt him. Yet, in spite of your fear, you know he has no plans to harm you. Once you’re in sight of the village, he sets the deer down, and gestures for you to take the lead.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask. You’re certain the look on your face suggests you still expect him to eat you. 

“Why do you ask?” He says. “Maybe I wanted the location of your home. It seems there are plenty of sacrifices here for me.”

“Wait a minute!” You say, eyes widening with fear. A mix of panic and guilt consumes you. “You can't-”

A look resembling amusement crosses his face. “I mean no harm to your village,” Sukuna says, “but in five years, I will return to claim what is mine.”

The strange man would vanish upon reaching the outskirts of your village, and in the nearly five years that follow, you would not once traverse so deep into the woods. On several occasions, you would try to retrace your steps, but would never once come across that clearing. When you would bring it up to your father, or any of the other village elders, your concerns would be brushed off, or outright ignored. Years would pass and slowly, achingly slowly, you would forget about the man in the woods entirely.

The coming spring brings your twenty-eighth birthday, and the looming threat of being an “older” unmarried woman.

If you had any say in the matter, you wouldn't get married at all. Plenty of older women exist, happily unmarried, yet your mother insists that you must find a husband. Any attempts to convince her that you’re fine with the way things are, fail. Once it became clear you weren't going to seek a husband on your own, your mother took upon the task of finding a suitor for you. Over the course of several months, meetings were arranged with various men, and with each rejected one, your mother grew more desperate to find the perfect match. 

Your mother insists you're cursed. Your father thinks you’re simply unlucky. When you asked how marriage was supposed to fix that curse, she had no answer for you.

In the months prior to your birthday, your mother proposed a deal to you: meet with another man—the son of a wealthy merchant. That if this meeting went well, even if you didn't marry him, she would stop pestering you about getting married. Tired of her pestering, you relented, and agreed to meet him. And as the days draw closer, you only feel dread towards him. 

The outcome of tonight has already been decided by you: failure. Whether your mother knows this or not is hard to tell. Judging her tense nature, you suspect she knows your plans.

“I was already married at your age,” she says, tightening your obi, “I used to have a dress just like this.”

“The difference is, you knew him already,” you say, “and I am meeting a stranger.”

“I am simply doing what I think is best for you,” she says. “This is your chance to get out of this village—to live a better life! Don't you want that?”

Her eyes meet yours in one last pleading glance. It makes you wonder; did she have such a conversation with her mother? Did your grandmother go through such trouble to match her to your father? Or did this come easier to her, than it did to you?

You suppose he’s handsome. The silks he wears are clearly expensive, with threads like woven gold. His features are sharp—what one could describe as noble, but you find him truly dull. But he is scrawny—squishy, with hands that show he has never worked a day in his life. The little conversation he makes is dreadfully boring. His father is an older man, with a graying beard, and sagging eyes. His mother is considerably younger, dressed in blue, with a small scar on her chin. Her silky black hair falls down her back. The little conversation you do have is short, but polite. The typical small talk you would have with a stranger.

Your mother does her best to talk you up. She’s gotten pretty good at that over the past few years. Your father interjects here and there, but it's your mother that does the majority of the talking. 

“She’s strong. A talented hunter. Good with a knife.” Your father says. This time, you’re paying attention when he speaks.

Your potential father-in-law seems unimpressed with your father’s attempts to talk you up. Perhaps if you were a son, this conversation would go differently. If you were a son, your mother wouldn't be so stressed about you being married before 30. Your growing irritation mounts when you set down your cutlery, turning to look the old man in his eyes.

“And what about him?” You ask, motioning to his son. “Look at him—how is he supposed to give me a strong child?”

The energy in the room seems to shift entirely. Your father nearly chokes on his wine, but his eyes are firmly trained on your mother. She glares daggers at you, gripping her spoon so tightly that her knuckles turn white.

“What?” You ask. “I am the one getting married. Don't I get a say in this?”

Are you trying to screw this up? Your mother’s face seems to ask.

“A good father controls his daughter,” the man says, “especially one with such a sharp tongue.”

“I can serve this village, or I can control my daughter, but I cannot do both,” your father says, “she’s not a child anymore, she can make her own choices.”

That earns a small smirk from you. Leave it to him to stand up for you.

“That is exactly why this is so grievous,” the man says, “my son will not marry an old maid with an attitude problem!”

“And I will not have in-laws as insufferable as you!” You bring your knife down on the table, narrowly missing his fingers. This little outburst of yours at dinner will certainly have consequences. Your mother’s wrath is only the beginning.

They don't leave in nearly as big of a hurry as you’d expect from a man who was just threatened with a knife, but they do hurry out, making certain not to look back.

“Maybe we should have offered to let them stay,” says your father, “it’s not safe to be out on the road after dark.”

“We’re lucky to not have them send guards after us for that,” your mother says, and for once, you agree with her. “Threatening a man like that is a new low, even for you.”

After such a disastrous dinner, you’re not particularly eager to go find your parents. You linger towards the outskirts of your village for as long as daylight allows you to. Once it grows too dark to stay out, you begin the trek back to your home, praying your parents—or at least your mother—have simply gone to bed. Maybe your father will forgive such a night, but your mother certainly won't. Over the past year you’ve done enough to earn her ire, this will not help your case.

Sitting outside is your mother, her eyes trained on a dying fire. Although she doesn't acknowledge you, you know she’s noticed you. Part of you wonders if you should speak first. Would that even improve your situation, or simply make it worse?

“You win.” She says. 

“What?” You ask.

“You win. I told you I’d stop after this, remember?” She asks. “Besides, I stopped liking him after that comment he made about your father.”

You still don't believe it's over. No tone of accusation clings to her voice, yet you can't help being suspicious.

“I don't get it.” You say.

“I just want what's best for you.” She says. “I want you to live a long and happy life. Are you really content to spend the rest of your life in this village? Stuck taking care of your brother and father?”

“That sounds like the preferable outcome,” you say, “compared to having in-laws I can't stand.”

“Where does he get off calling you an old maid anyway?” She says.

A small smile crosses your lips. This is about the best she'll get, and she knows this, a grin crossing her own face. A moment that should be one of triumph—at least for you—seems to be more sorrowful. The older you grow, the further apart you drift from her, and with that comes a strange, aching loneliness. You long for a time in your youth; the days when she would play dolls with you in-between house chores. You miss the tiny clothes she’d sew for them. The furniture made of timber scraps she’d hand paint. Oh how long has it been since she last braided your hair? Or brushed it? Or helped you wash it? 

Did she have these same feelings about her own mother? Or was it easy for her? Does she too mourn those moments you used to share?

You don't remember her always looking this old. That’s not to say she isn't beautiful still—age does not nullify beauty. But she looks tired now. The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent than ever. The skin around her eyes crinkles when she laughs, or smiles. Her hair is littered with grays—like little silver threads. She looks like you.

From within the nearly pitch-black woods comes a scream; not that of an animal, but of man. When the scream rings out again, it’s much easier to understand. It’s a cry for help.

Emerging out of the treeline, and following the main road is a man, half hunched over and clutching his stomach. He makes it several yards into the village before collapsing. Enough blood pours from the wound on his side that you can smell it. A metallic taste lingers in the air, stuck to the back of your throat. Blood. 

You’re the first to run over, followed shortly behind by your mother. The injured, shambling figure collapses upon the road. It’s only as you draw closer that you recognize him, albeit barely: the man from dinner. His clothes at one point in time were yellow in color, but are now stained a deep brown in color from a mix of dirt and blood.

“We need a doctor over here!” Mother cries out, her voice echoing against the wall of trees.

Someone must hear, because eventually a group of men burst out of a nearby house. They make quick work of rolling him onto his back, granting you a better look at his wounds. Three long slashes across his stomach. From your mother comes a gasp, followed by her clamping her hand over her mouth. The young man succumbs to his wounds before anyone is able to help him. He’s lost too much blood. People don't come back from that.

“Was he stabbed?” One man asks.

“Looks like knife marks,” comments another.

“Not a knife,” the oldest of the three says, “claws.”

“Do you think a mountain lion got to him?” You ask.

The oldest of the men shakes his head. “Cats like that don't get this close to towns. They avoid people if they can. A bear, maybe; if he got in between a mother and cub. But even that seems unlikely…”

This is why you don't go into the woods after dark. This is why you lock your doors and close your shutters tight when the sun sets. Bad things lurk out there, but they are not bears, nor are they mountain lions.

Something about the height of a person bursts from the treeline. Atop the legs of a chicken is a head only humanesque in the way corpses are. Sunken eyes sit atop a shriveled nose, and cracked lips. Its skin seems to be hanging off bone. Still, it takes you a moment to register that it’s fear you feel. Your palms prickle with sweat, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The urge to flee is nearly unbearable.

More of these creatures emerge from the direction of the nearly-set sun. They appear to come in all sorts of horrid shapes, and sizes, the smallest being no larger than a bird, and the largest about the size of a cow. Fear threatens to overcome you entirely. At least twenty of the creatures leave the treeline, although you suspect more remain hidden within it. The temperature must drop by ten degrees. It’s as if all the moisture has been sucked from the air. Those who dared leave their homes to look at the source of the commotion have now retreated, locking their doors behind them. 

The collar of your dress jerks backwards as your mother struggles to drag you back towards the house. “Get your father!” She says. “Hurry!” 

“What about you?!” You ask.

“Just get your father,” she says.

And you do so, running as fast as your feet will take you. The chilly night air renders your fingertips numb, and your face burning. He’s asleep in his chair, and wakes with a gasp as you shake him, motioning frantically to the door. The words that leave you are incoherent, but he must understand your panic. He retrieves his sword, telling you to lock the door behind him. You don't listen. You never listen, you can hear your mother say now. A sudden burst of light draws your attention—a nearby house has caught fire. Those strange, horrid creatures swarm around it like flies. Several neighbors have exited their houses, and begun throwing buckets of water upon the blaze, but the fire is too strong.

And from the treeline emerges that man from the woods all those years ago. 

In five years time, he has not aged a day. His cruelly sharp features appear the same within the flicker of the firelight. They fall before him on their hands and knees, heads bowed in fear. You only realize you’re shaking when you move closer to the window, peeking out through the crack in the shutters. 

The King of Curses, he called himself, all those years ago.

His mouth moves as if he's speaking, but you can only make out about half of what he says. The ringing in your ears is too loud to make sense of much.

“My offerings lessen, my shrine lies defiled,” he says, “and you humans sit here complacent. I gave you five years to make amends and this is what you do with it?”

You know, logically, that your father is going to die. He is no match for the creatures, let alone that strange man. You must do something. Even if it is beyond logic, or reason, you would not forgive yourself if you did not act.

“Then what is it you require of us?” Asks father, his hands trembling slightly. You can tell it’s more than just the dancing light of the fire. He is truly frightened.

“An offering,” says the King of Curses. “A sacrifice.”

“We have nothing to offer,” says father, “the river has run dry of fish—our crops have withered! We have nothing to offer, we’re starving regardless!”

The King of Curses eyes drift to your hiding place, before landing back on your father. “You said it yourself.” He says. “You’ll starve regardless. What difference does it make that you should give up one of your own? Won't there only be less mouths to feed?”

Your arrows rattle loudly as you pull one from your quiver, knocking it. From this angle, and sitting half crouched on the ground, you can't bring it to a full draw. Not only does that mess with your aim, but alter the power of the shot too. That can be accounted for. You adjust your angle to be a little higher—right above his head. When you release the string, the arrow gives way with a thunk! The shot is dead on; your arrow whistling towards the demon king’s head. He brings his spear up, knocking it aside. Several heads whip back towards you, their faces contorted in a mix of anger, and fear. 

You’re not quite sure who grabs you first—it must be more than one person. Several sets of hands are upon you, dragging you from the house. Any attempts to fight it fail on your part, there are simply too many people to kick off. They drop you in the dirt beside your father. You don't dare look at him. You know his eyes are filled with fear. 

“We’ll—we’ll put it to a vote,” says one of the elders. “All those in favor of sending this woman as an offering…”

Two other elders raise their hands. Then several of the men. Then, reluctantly, the mother of a neighboring family. Even more hands pop up after that. Although maybe a minute passes, it feels like hours. At least a dozen sets of eyes are on you.

“Out of all of you,” the demon king says, eyes following across the crowd that’s now gathered, “she was the only one of you to fight back, yet you punish such an action?”

Silence is the only response the crowd can conjure up. A groan so loud that the ground rumbles beneath it rings out as the house gives way, collapsing in on itself in a rain of ash and embers.

“Wait!” Your father cries out, “let me go in her place!”

Several more incomprehensible sentence fragments leave him. He pleads and pleads to no avail. The last view you get of your village is of the spirits retreating back into the woods.

It must be hours before your state of shock wears off. Dawn breaks bleak and gray over the horizon. The temple he brings you lies in ruin. You must be one of the first people to set foot in here in years. A cracked foundation gives way to walls overtaken by vines. Dust and ash layers the ground, and every surface imaginable.

Sukuna must not expect you to try to run. Nothing is done to prevent you from escaping. There are no doors to lock. No ropes or cages. The only real barrier of escape is the trek home through miles of woods. Should you wait until sunrise, the trip won't be impossible. It is the fear of what remains for you that prevents you from returning.

Would there even be anything to go back to? Is it even worth it after what they did? They did not hesitate as they offered you as a sacrifice. Whatever happens to them… they have it coming.

Such thoughts do little to comfort you. If anything, they make you feel worse. What little strength you have left goes into stopping the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. You manage. Barely.

Unable to find it within you to do anything else, you sit. Only a thin, woven mat separates you and the hard floor. Footsteps draw closer down the hall, the noise only amplified by the high ceilings of the temple.

Uraume. That’s what Sukuna called them. A strange being that looks human, but appears to be more than such. They enter the room, a shock a white hair visible before the rest of them is. They wear the kimono of an unmarried woman, in vibrant shades of orange, blues, and pinks woven in the pattern of flowers. Hooked around one arm is a pail of water. Under the other arm is a roll of cloth. Contained within the cloth is a mix of hygiene supplies; a sponge, comb, various vials of oils and creams. 

Uraume treats you like one would treat a frightened animal. They kneel on the ground before you, leaving about the distance of a foot. When you don't flinch, or shy away, they move closer.

“You’re covered in ash,” they say, “let me help.”

With the sponge, they dab away the bits of dirt and ash that have caked to your skin. Human contact like this should, in theory, be intimate, but in this situation it feels like anything but that. Uraume’s touch feels cold, and clinical. With them comes a strange, uncanny feeling, like you are not looking into the eyes of a human, but of a corpse. The reason behind their kindness is a mystery to you. It feels wrong to question them, but you can't help but think there is something sinister behind their actions. Their casualness suggests this isn't the first time they’ve done this. That thought does nothing to comfort you, so you quickly push it aside.

Next, they move on to your neck, then down to the exposed bits of your chest, and shoulders. 

“Such a beautiful dress,” they comment. You reply weakly, saying it belonged to your mother. Their response to that is little more than a hum.

They take your hands, scrubbing the dirt from under your nails with a small brush. After that, a comb is worked through your hair, taking great care to not pull on any knots that have formed. Once they can work their hands through your hair with no resistance, they stop.

Uraume leans back to examine their work, deeming you presentable. Gathering what they brought with them, they make their way towards the door, turning back once to say: “I’ll bring something to eat.”

The events of the night have left you without an appetite. You probably should eat something. It’ll be important to keep your energy up. The little adrenaline left within you has you jumping at any small noise, or shadow. Sleep feels like an impossibility right now.

About ten minutes pass before Uraume returns carrying a platter. Tea, pickled vegetables, a hunk of bread, a bowl of some kind of stew. It smells quite good, but you merely pick at it. Like your hesitation to sleep, you can hardly eat. Uraume sits with you, picking at their own food, but never finishing it. A million questions race through your mind, although you can barely bring yourself to ask them.

Would they even answer you? Or does this have a more sinister plan behind it?

Finally, you find enough of your voice to ask: “Where is…?”

“I’ve prepared a bath for master Sukuna,” they say, “he’ll be joining us shortly.”

Your attention turns back to the bowl in your hands, which soon slips through your fingers, breaking upon the floor. What little appetite you had is soured entirely. This is it. You’re nearly certain you’re going to die here.

Your attempt to clean up the mess is stopped by Uraume. They insist upon cleaning it themselves, taking great care not to cut their hands on the shards.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, shocked at how small your voice sounds.

“Master Sukuna likes to play with his food before he eats it,” they say.

Uraume leaves shortly after, taking the leftover dishes with them. You remain seated, eyes moving between the two exits of the room. One takes you to the entrance of the temple; you’re not certain where the other leads. The first is almost guaranteed to be guarded, though. Trying to run now is a bad idea. But when will you get another chance?

You will not sit idly by as death draws closer. Like the previous night, you feel as if you must do something. It was your own foolish actions that got you into this mess, says a small voice in the back of your head.

Trapped under your heel is a small pottery shard, left over from the shattered bowl. It’s small enough to conceal in your palm. Sharp. Better for stabbing than it is slashing, but it will be good enough at either. Once Sukuna returns, you’ll get your chance.

The rush of adrenaline has started to wear off now, rendering your arms weak, and your legs shaky. If you were to sit down now, you’re certain it would be a while before you get back up. It is the body fighting itself; fight or flight mode mixing with exhaustion. If you do not stop and rest, your body will give out on you eventually.

So you stand there and pace, clutching your shard of pottery close. Maybe thirty minutes pass in the time it takes Sukuna to enter, but it feels like hours. Adrenaline turns into fatigue.

Tears burn at your eyes again, but you’re able to blink them back. A mix of shock and betrayal has left you nothing short of exhausted. Sukuna’s towering stature only helps to make you feel like a lamb about to be devoured by a wolf.

“I trust Uraume has been of assistance,” Sukuna says. 

Unsure of how to respond, you simply nod.

“What now?” You ask. “Is this the part where you’re supposed to eat me?”

That earns a laugh from him, although it’s strange sounding, as if the very action is foreign to him.

“Many decades ago, the people of your village—among others—would hold a festival during harvest season,” he says, “it was meant as a sign of peace. An offering in return to not raze their homes,

“The people of your village have grown laze, and complacent. They have forgotten their place as humans, and needed to be reminded of it. You are simply another offering. Something to tide me over.”

Sukuna draws close enough for you to feel his breath across the back of your neck. You shudder. Adrenaline courses through you once again.

This is it, you think, you are going to die. 

In one last attempt to preserve your dignity, you aim for his jugular, and swing the shard of pottery towards it. A hand wraps around your wrist before it can make contact. A second set of arms are trapping you against his body before you can even register it. His breath is warm against your cheek, teeth inhumanly sharp in the dim light.

“You are entertainment.” He says. 

That same set of sharp teeth drag up your neck. Some sick sense of pleasure runs up your spine at the feeling: being a little lamb in the jaws of a predator. It would take so little effort from him to render you lifeless that it’s almost comical. Adrenaline turns to delirium in your mind. 

What happens if he finally grows bored of you? It’s not a matter of “if” in this case, it’s a matter of “when”. You have an idea of what will happen once he does.

You don't hear him leave, so much as you notice his lack of presence.

Sukuna is gone for most of the following day. In that time, you explore much of the temple in an attempt to gain your bearings. It’s sparsely furnished, and dilapidated for the most part, but there are some signs of life. On a lower level of the temple is a bedroom, where the bed alone is as big as a room in your home. Must be Sukuna’s. Another, smaller room appears to be Uraume’s quarters. A small kitchen branches off the hallway not far from this. 

The later half of the day is spent trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. Thick woods surround the structure, spreading out for what must be miles. To the North is a creek. If you followed it, you might possibly meet up with the river by your village. Whether you could do so before nightfall is another question entirely. Finding yourself stuck in unfamiliar woods past dark may prove to be a death sentence.

Even if you could go back, would you want to? Their lack of hesitation towards sacrificing you still rings clear in your mind.

Sleep seems to be the best way to pass the time. There isn't much else to do around here. In the hours before dusk, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, and into the woods that surround the temple. You justify it by saying that fresh air will do you good, not that anyone asks you. The only person around to do so would be Uraume, though you don't see much of them.

Heavy fog settles upon the trees, causing the day to take on a quiet, sleepy nature. Little cream-colored mushrooms pop up through the layer of moss and dead leaves that blanket the forest floor. Carved out over years of use is a dirt path, barely wide enough for a person to walk through. Following it for about ten minutes brings you to a pond. At one end, the start of a small creek leads downhill. Little fish are visible just under the surface. Leaving your socks and shoes at the shore, you wade out into the water. It’s cool, but not chilly. The mud feels soft underneath your feet. Being outside helps settle your nerves a bit. Outright terror is replaced with uneasiness now. While not entirely better, it’s an improvement to your previous mood.

From the treeline opposite of the path you took, a figure enters the clearing. Sukuna. Adrenaline spikes through your body at the sight of him. Your pulse quickens, and fear prickles in your palms. Every cell of your being is telling you to run.

Sukuna motions with his hand for you to follow him. It is not an offer, so much as it’s a command. Following a short walk on a stoney path, you find yourself overlooking a rock cliff-face, and a small wood hut. Scattered about are several steaming pools, which bubble up from the ground, layering upon the cliff-face like stairs.

Sukuna undressed at the wood hut, leaving his clothes hanging upon the rafters. Your gaze remains firmly on the ground. You should not be seeing him like this. This feels far too intimate. You try not to let your gaze linger too long, but can't help it. The sight of his back alone is hard to tear your eyes away from; the muscles, the tattoos, the curve of his spine. There is a strange, supernatural beauty to him. You eye him with caution, yet curiosity. 

Why has he brought you here? What does he want? Is this simply a ritual before he eats you?

Certainly, if you were to scream, no one would be nearby to hear you. 

It strikes you just how easily his teeth could tear through your jugular. How his sharp nails could shred your flesh to ribbons. Sukuna is far faster and stronger than you, outrunning him is not an option.

Following his lead, you undress, and leave your clothes folded neatly upon a rock. Next comes the task of taking down your hair, and combing through it with your fingers, finding it still knot-free from the events of the previous night. Only then do you approach the largest of the three pools, and wade into it. At its deepest, it's a little above your waist. You could walk all the way across and never once have your feet leave the ground.

You settle upon a rock towards the edge, half submerged in the pool. The hot water feels nice upon your sore muscles. Your eyes trail ribbons of steam as they curl off the water. A wave of self consciousness rolls over you. You sink further into the water, crossing your arms in front of your chest. It’s up to your chin now. Sometime during this, it starts raining. The droplets leave little ripples across the surface of the water. Fall brings the smell of damp earth, and decaying leaves with it. Something that should be comforting only makes your stomach turn.

“You look frightened, little lamb,” Sukuna says.

Is it so obvious? 

“I still don't believe this isn't some attempt to eat me.” You ask, though you’re not certain you want the answer.

“Had I wanted to eat you, I would have had Uraume make preparations.” He says.

You still don't believe him. How many people met their fate at his hands before you? There is no reason why you would be lucky—why you would escape your fate.

“Then what is it you want from me?” You ask.

His expression softens, shoulders lowering with a sigh. The space between his eyebrows is not so harshly creased anymore. 

“I am not like the typical curses you have met,” Sukuna says, “I require your permission.” 

“Permission for what?” You shrink back as he draws closer, stopping mere inches from you. He’d tower over the tallest man, let alone someone like you.

A kiss. Hungry, and overbearing, but a kiss nonetheless. Sukuna has to lean down, and you have to crane your neck up to complete the action. His movements feel stiff, clinical, as if he hasn't done this many times before. The action causes warmth to bloom in your chest, and spread out to your limbs. The hands that cup your face are nearly large enough to encompass it entirely. He tastes like wine, and something vaguely metallic. The thought that it might be blood crosses your mind for only a moment. You’d much rather think about other things. 

“Will you devote yourself to me, completely and entirely?” He asks.

Funny, you think, had a human man asked you the same thing, you would have laughed in his face. Yet you find yourself bewitched by the King of Curses. Curious, and cautious all the same. This is not a feeling of love. It is something else entirely. You are a sacrifice, you remind yourself, this is the fate of a sacrifice.

“I devote myself to no man,” you say, “I don't see how you'd be any different.”

He hums in amusement, circling around you in the water. He stops behind you, slightly to your right. Sharp teeth graze across your shoulder. Large hands trace their way up your hips, then your body, coming to rest just below your breasts. You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the strange pressure that has built up. Your heart rate picks up in pace. Sukuna must be able to sense this. A low laugh leaves him as he pulls away.

“Well then,” he says, “do I have your permission to continue?”

Continue what? You wish to ask. As if against your mind’s wishes, your head moves in a nod. “Yes,” you say.

You can only imagine the look on his face as you have your back to him. He’s close enough you can feel the warmth radiate off his body. Is he pleased? Amused? Smug that all it took was a kiss to make you let your guard down? 

Hands that should be calloused and rough are quite gentle with their touch. One comes to rest upon your hip, before trailing down to the space between your thighs. Seconds in and your knees seem to give out, your body supported only by him. One finger presses into you, then a second. You sigh at the intrusion. There’s little resistance as he presses into you. You’re too wet. Sukuna’s fingers are much larger than your own, though the stretch you feel is pleasant, not painful. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, drawing a low laugh from him. You can feel it rumble within his chest, which your back is pressed flush to.

Being so close to another being feels odd. The only intimacy you know is a platonic one. A familial one. This is different. Stronger. More intense. He finds the spot that makes you squirm and abuses it, toying with you like prey. It must be a game to him, you think, like cat and mouse. With one of your hands over your mouth, you try to muffle the lewd noises that spill from you. It’s a losing battle. All sorts of pleased sounding noises—from both you and him—echo through the clearing. Secretly, you’re glad this place is so remote. Should someone hear the lewd noises you’re making, you wouldn't recover from the embarrassment. He brings you just to the edge, but refuses to let you cross over. Frustration turns to desperation as you grind against him, chasing your own release. Sukuna doesn't appear opposed to your actions. He lets you work yourself up to—and through—your own release, the noises you make growing gradually more obscene until they come to a head in the form of an orgasm.

You remain in the water for a while afterwards. The layer of fog overhead makes the day take on a lazy, sleepy nature. His hands comb through your hair as you lay against his chest. Such a moment feels uncharacteristically tender for him. While you expect them to be sharp, his nails feel nice against your skin. The mouth on his stomach resembles a smirk, although the expression on his face is flat. Unreadable. A slight pang of disappointment shoots through you. You know it’s unreasonable of you to expect humanity from someone inherently inhuman. He does not—he can not—process things the way you do. Humans must appear so small and fragile to him.

You’re uncertain of how much time passes as you lay there, your limbs tangled with his. It doesn't feel like long enough. No time would feel long enough. You crave the touch of another being whether you want to admit that or not.

“It’s getting late,” he comments. Without another word, you watch as Sukuna dresses himself, and leaves.

You follow him as quickly as you can. You’re not quite fast enough, arriving back at the temple long after him. Dusk follows soon after. 

You find no sign of the King of Curses upon your return. Finding yourself with not much of an appetite, you head straight to bed. Uraume stops by once to offer tea, but you decline, insisting you’re tired, and just wish to sleep. Whether or not they believe you, you can't tell. That’s about the extent of every conversation you have; polite, but short.

Sukuna must not need to sleep. Not in the same way you do. You dress down into your underclothes, leaving the rest folded neatly upon a chair. They’re not dirty, just slightly wrinkled from the events of today. You crawl into the bed much larger than you, and attempt to sleep. When he crawls into the bed beside you, you do nothing to protest.

As time passes, you grow used to his presence. Falling into a routine takes mere days. In that time, you don't see much of Sukuna, or Uraume. Maybe it’s for the best. You’re not certain what you’d say to either of them. You figure it best not to question what Sukuna gets up to in his free time. If the events at your village are anything similar, you figure it best to pay them no mind.

The longer you spend here, the more curious you find yourself. At least twice you find your way back to the hot springs. Familiarizing yourself with the surrounding woods has you growing more confident when navigating it. Animal tracks and trails reveal themselves, bringing more life to the woods. 

Fall turns to winter. Rain gives way to snow, bringing in a bitter stormfront. It’s hard to tell how many days pass as the storm hits, rendering the three of you confined to the temple. Sukuna doesn't appear bothered at all by the cold, but you spend many bleak nights huddled by a fire. Sukuna approaches you on one of these nights; perhaps the bleakest and darkest one before the storm finally breaks. Your inability to leave the temple has you ready to claw out of your own skin. Never were you one to stay in one place very long. 

Days have passed and you haven't spoken much to one another. Not since the day at the hot springs. You find yourself especially longing for them on a day like this, where the cold makes your joints ache, and your lips cracked. Winter is among your least favorite of the seasons. A hot and sticky summer day was always preferred over a day like this. Sukuna must sense it. He finds you curled by the fire, wrapped in an assortment of quilts and fabrics. You can't tell if it’s morning, or evening. Snow has rendered midday as dark as dusk. 

You know you should get up, and toss more wood onto the fire. Should you let it die any further, it’s unlikely you’ll get it started again. Sukuna joins you in the room, sitting on the mat to your left. Finding yourself searching for warmth, you move closer to him. It’s an unconscious action at first. Once you recognize it, you can't find the willpower within you to stop.

You offer the edge of the blanket to him, basking in his warmth as the quilt is wrapped around both of you. One of his hands comes to rest upon your knee. Your gaze is trained on his face, while his remains on the dying fire. 

“I don't suppose you do this to every sacrifice you get,” you say, not expecting an answer.

The corners of his lips twitch into something that resembles a smile. Much life his laugh, his smile is stiff, and rather foreign feeling. Like he hasn't done such a thing in centuries.

“You are different from the sacrifices I have received in the past.” He says. 

You get the impression he is still figuring out what to do with you. Such a thought doesn't inspire confidence on your part, though you assume your situation could be worse. 

You're nearly in his lap now. The hand on your knee soon moves upwards onto your thigh. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he palms himself through his clothes. Some sick part of you wishes to taunt him. To tease him in the same way he has done to you. You part your legs just enough to encourage him. There must be something wrong with you, you think, no normal woman would enjoy the company of the King of Curses.

This is not your typical virgin sacrifice. It is little more than that. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure. To fuck without the intent to procreate.

“I always assumed you wouldn’t have these… urges.” You say.

“Many things lost their potency,” he says. “Food was never enough to satiate, drink was never enough to quench thirst. Sex has remained the same. Primal pleasure never loses its potency.”

So he was human. At least at one point in time…

“Like I said,” he hums, “I am not like the typical curses you have met. I require your permission.”

“You have it,” you say. 

Oh how dearly you wish to recreate the event at the hot springs. To feel the same build-up of emotions, and the following release. Such mindless pleasure has remained in your head, unable to be stifled by your own hands.

Off comes your kimono, guided down your shoulders by his hand. Your nipples stiffen when exposed to the open air. It is not the cold that has you shivering, but the expectation of what’s to come. His size, and calloused hands suggest his touch would be harsh, but you find to be the opposite. Sharp nails graze down your sides as he moves to kneel before you. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

His own clothes are left among the growing pile on the floor. He pumps his stiffening cock in his hand, the head of which weeps across his palm. A different kind of heat blooms in your stomach.

 Sharp teeth graze across your jaw, down your neck, before eventually nipping at your shoulder. A sting both painful and pleasurable radiates from the bite. Blood beads from the two points where he managed to break the skin, quickly lapped away by him. Part of your brain is telling you to push him away. The other part is telling you to expose your neck further. You’re not certain which to listen to as you lay under him, caged within his arms. Your breaths grow ragged, turning into quiet moans as his knee nudges your legs apart. This is different from the day at the hot springs. Sukuna is seeking something more—he is seeking his own pleasure this time.

A hand finds its way into your hair, gently tugging at it. Guided by his hand, you expose your neck further to him. He laps at the droplets of blood that form, sucking dark marks into the skin of your neck. Pain and pleasure overlap in your mind. Your thighs are a mess of your own slick, and the precum that leaks from the heads of his two cocks. It’s almost comical how you work yourself up in knots at only the slightest provocation by him.

You taste yourself on him as he kisses you. The bleeding from your neck has mostly stopped now. What remains will barely leave a scar. His lips trail down your neck, through the valley between your breasts, and down your stomach, before eventually stopping just shy of your cunt. The look of him alone has you growing as wet as a virgin; his hair disheveled from your hands running through it, the muscles in his shoulders appear more prominent now. His arms hook around your thighs, although he doesn't need to bother holding your legs open. You’d do it without prompt by him. Eager for your own release, and worked up into a soaked mess, you’d do anything to please him.

You shouldn't be enjoying it as much as you are. You know you should be afraid. It would take no effort from him at all to tear through your femoral artery, and let you bleed out. You would be helpless in the matter anyway; you’re nothing more than a little lamb trapped under a big bad wolf.

The feeling of his tongue is strange. With him on his knees, bowed in what resembles worship, has your stomach in knots. The lewdness of it all has you more worked up than anything else. A strange, pleasurable tension builds within you. He is not toying with you this time, but working you over. When you do finally cum, you cum hard, riding out your high on his face. The noises he’s making suggest he’s enjoying this almost more than you do.

He must be painfully hard now. The head of his cock is an angry shade of red, and leaking precum. Using his hand to guide him, the head of his cock presses into you. You’re too wet from his previous actions to notice much of a stretch. What little pain there is crosses over with pleasure in your mind. He groans as he sheathes himself within you fully. His expression softens just enough for you to take in the features of his face. He’s quite handsome now that you’re close enough to appreciate his looks. It makes you wonder what his life as a human was like. Was he royalty, or a commoner? What was his job? Did he ever have family?

You won't get an answer out of him no matter how hard you try. This is the most human the king of curses will ever appear. 

His thrusts are slow at first. Lazy. More like grinding, not proper fucking. With as sensitive as you still are, this doesn't make much of a difference. You’re still a writhing, moaning mess beneath him. Judging by the noises he’s making, he’s not far from cumming himself. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and that seems to only encourage him. The muscles in his arms and shoulders gradually grow more tense before he shudders, then visibly relaxes. A warm sensation in your cunt follows soon after; he’s cum inside of you.

You lay like that for a while: limbs entwined, bodies curled around each other. He lets himself soften inside of you until the desire to pull out hits. You can tell your hips will be sore in the morning—whenever it decides to come. What little of his seed spills out of you is forced back in by his fingers. You assume it ties into his possessive nature. It must be a way of marking you as his. The fire has long since died out, though you find the warmth from his body adequate enough. 

“I don't think I can walk,” you lie, “carry me?”

Sukuna feigns annoyance, but relents, carrying you to the bed too large for any human. You quickly find your way under the covers. He finds himself in the space beside you. Fatigue hits you soon after, yet you find yourself unable to sleep.

“You were human once?” You ask.

The mood in the room seems to shift entirely. Sukuna is not one for conversation. You expected no different from a man like him. He looks at you with mild annoyance, as if deciding on his answer.

“I was. Once.” He says.

Your fingers trace across the tattoos on his wrist. “Do you miss it?” You ask. “Being human, I mean.”

“I am far stronger now than I was when I was a human.” He says. “I no longer need to eat, nor drink. I have the gift of eternal life so long as I am smart with my actions. I do not miss the fragility that comes with humanity.”

His words almost irritate you. So much more exists to humanity than what he says, from little things like sharing a summer even with a friend, tearing into ripe persimmons. Spending an evening hunched over a stew pot helping your mother. Kisses shared between a lover in the woods, or out in the fields. Stories exchanged by firelight. Intricately woven fabrics and paintings that might as well be indistinguishable from real life. So many beautiful things exist within humanity. Maybe he’s been away from it so long he’s forgotten the extent of it.

Would the King of Curses even admit he’s lonely? Or would he be too prideful to admit such a thing?

“You're sad. Why?” He questions.

“Was just thinking about my mother. That's all.” You say. “She wanted me to get married before I…”

You’re mad at her. More mad than you’ve been at anyone in your life. Yet you wish for nothing more than her comfort in this moment. A wound exists that time won't heal. Anger is not productive in fixing it. Anger only makes it worse.

This time, you are the one to initiate the kiss. You wish for it to distract you, but it only amplifies the ache in your chest.

“If you were to lose what little fight you had left in you, then this would no longer be fun,” he says.

You grow used to the ever-present shadow that is Sukuna, talking to the space beside you as if he is there because hell, sometimes he is. He is more than a mere man. He exists on a level different from you or anyone else. Your existence at this temple feels less like confinement and more like living. 

“Will you join me?” He asks one day by the river. 

The two of you sit upon the riverbank, watching as the water swirls below you. Spring snowmelt, combined with a recent storm, has stirred up the river bottom, turning the water murky. What was meant to be a fishing trip has proved unsuccessful.

“I would be lying if I said I haven't grown used to your presence.” He says.

“Don't be getting soft on me,” you say, half joking.

The most emotion you get out of him is an amused sounding huff. 

“I want you to join me,” he says, “not in life as human, but in eternity as a curse.”

“I will,” you say. 

No thought is needed for your answer, nor is there any hesitation on your part. Sukuna simply nods. That is what love is to him. Devotion. Worship. Throwing away your humanity means nothing if humanity is so quick to reject you. 

Gifts begin appearing around the temple after that. Priceless jewelry, and expensive dresses. Hair pins and cosmetics. Seasons pass in what feels like no time at all. Before you know it, your third fall here is quickly approaching. Winter comes and goes—uncharacteristically bitter this year. Spring brings a sense of rebirth. The ground thaws slowly, and plant life is in full bloom. Animal life returns to the surrounding woods, showing signs in every trail around the temple.

A hunting trip brings you further out into the woods than you’ve traveled before. You don't realize you’re nearing a human settlement until you’ve stumbled upon it.

The village has changed drastically in the time you were gone, so much so that you almost don't recognize it. A full blown mill has sprouted up along the river. At least twice as many houses stand now. Years ago this street was little more than a dirt path. Sometime over the years it has been paved over with river stones. Children play in the streets. Men walk home with pails of fish slung over their shoulders. These strangers notice you and pause, returning to their homes quickly. 

Your house remains mostly the same. Age has not been kind to it. One corner of the roof sags, and the wood trim has grown bleached with time. The path up to the front steps is overgrown. Sitting outside, hunched over a wash bin, is your mother.

Her hair is mostly gray now. Wrinkles mark her skin, and her joints are knobby, but you would still consider her beautiful. The face of the woman she once was is still there. The clothes she wears are of rich fabrics, suggesting your family has not hurt for money. Her sturdy figure suggests they never lacked food either.

When she sees you, her eyes grow wet with tears. And it’s as if the weight of the world has lifted off your shoulders. You want to be angry at her. You want to unload years of anger upon her. You want her to feel just a fraction of the fear you've felt. But you can't bring yourself to do it. The look in her eyes tells you she’s felt all the emotions you have.

Her movements are laced with hesitation, as if she’s deciding whether or not you're real. One of her wrinkled hands takes yours. 

“I love you,” she says, “and I am so sorry.”

“I know,” you say.

She invites you in for tea, setting the table up with the nice dishware—the kind she only uses for guests. The interior of the house hasn't changed much. Your room is eerily the same, as if it hasn't been touched since the day you left. Your father’s boots, and hunting coat remain by the door, although they look as if they haven't been moved in years. Makes sense, you think, hunting is a task that grows difficult as you get older. There comes a time in every hunter’s life where they grow old, and it becomes their turn to stay home and tend the fire.

“Where's…?” You never get the chance to finish your question, the solemn look on your mother’s face is enough of an answer.

“He passed,” she says, pausing to think, “two springs ago now? Maybe three.”

Believing you would never see them again, you grieved your parents long ago.This particular grief is like an old wound to you.

“The village looks prosperous,” you comment. A bitter tone clings to your voice.

“Yes,” she says, “the past years have been kind to us. I suppose we have you to thank for that?”

She sits across from you, her eyes still wet with tears. It feels like you are holding a conversation with a stranger. Your mother regards you with a certain weariness she only reserves for strangers. Maybe it would hurt more if you had more room within you for grief.

“He never stopped looking for you, you know,” she says, setting a cup of tea in front of you. “Even after the village held a funeral for you. He never wanted to believe it. Until the day he died, he was out in the woods thinking he could bring you home.”

“I was under the impression I wasn't wanted here.” You say.

“You know that’s not true,” she says. “What happened that night was a result of fear. The elders did what they thought would preserve the safety of everyone.”

“Except for me.” You say.

Fear. Right. To them, you were simply a sacrifice. You drain the last of your tea, standing from the table. Your mother stands as if to stop you, but freezes before she can.

“Does he treat you well?” She asks.

“Yes,” you say.

“Better than any human man?”

“Yes,” you answer, although you can tell she doesn't believe it. 

“Do you love him?” She asks. “Does he love you?”

“I suppose so.” You say. “As much as he is capable of loving something.”

“But do you love him?” She asks again.

“As much as I am capable of doing so, yes.” You answer.

It is not the answer she wants, but the one that is the truth. With her hands folded in her lap, she nods solemnly.

That following night you leave your village not as a human, but as a curse. 

Enough time would pass that the story of a young sacrifice would be forgotten by its people; what would remain, is a tale of a love so infamous that it survived centuries.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #not osha compliant #jjk #my writing

[milla-frenchy]

4k1 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: Joel takes you to Degradation Town Warnings: 18+mdni. CNC. PWP. Assault, gun threat, degradation, size kink, oral (m receiving), boob job, fingering, pussy slapping, face slapping, bondage, unprotected piv, rimming, anal, cum eating a/n : @aurorawritestoescape and I wrote this fic together. How amazing is that, to meet someone who lives in another part of the world, and to write a 4 hands fic. We want to thank our Dark Queen @toxicanonymity for creating an amazing community where Kate and I met 🖤  Love you both 🫶🫶🫶 The fic is named after The Kills album “Keep on your mean side” and the song “Hitched”. ao3

Kate's masterlist | My masterlist

It was a warm day at the beginning of the fall. The breeze was a bit chilly but the sun rays filtering through the canopy of the forest trees didn’t let you get cold. The crunching of dry leaves under your steps made you feel uneasy. You  didn’t want to attract any clickers. Your gaze was on the ground and you were searching for some mushrooms. 

Your thoughts carried you to the time when you would go foraging with your parents, many years ago. It was a hobby back then, not a necessity. You felt a dull pang in your chest. The memory of such a distant past now, as if it happened not in another life but in a completely different dimension, not to you but to a version of yourself. 

Deep in thought you missed another set of steps crunching the fallen leaves. Suddenly you sensed someone else’s gaze on you and was about to turn around ready to take your gun out to protect yourself, but it was too late. Huge arms gripped you from behind squeezing your frame tight and keeping your arms pressed to your body. 

“The fuck?!” you exclaimed and tried to headbutt the man behind you but he swerved your hit. You were fruitlessly wiggling in his steel embrace. 

 “Let m-me go, you fucker!!”

“Shhhh..” the man shushed you, placing his hot palm over your mouth to shut you up. His hand smelt of smoke and along with a loud drum of your heart you felt a tingle between your thighs.

He quickly disarmed you, taking your gun out of your holster and throwing it away into the bushes. The man was huge and strong and you were helpless against him. Yet you couldn’t give in so easily. So you quickly lifted up your foot and stepped down hard on the attacker’s boot. 

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

He winced and pushed you hard on the ground. You fell on all fours, got up to run but he quickly grabbed you by the hair and pulled you back to face him. “Not so fast, little slut!”

You screamed with a pain stinging your eyes, and looked up at him towering over you. The man was in his late fifties. His dark eyes were boring into you under the frowning brows. A gray shirt was strained by his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He was wearing jeans and you couldn’t help but glance at his prominent bulge. Was he semi hard? Now you had little doubt about the plans he had for you. 

Your eyes darted from tree to tree trying to see if he was accompanied or alone.

“Where d’ya think you're goin’ like this? You must be fuckin’ stupid to walk in the woods by yourself.”

He was holding your arm tight. You tried to pull away but he was too strong. You tried to reason with him, your voice shaky and small, “I’m not alone. I'm here as a scout, my group is close.”

“It’s cute, but I don’t think so. You’re on my perimeter. The only group here's mine. It’s so deserted around here, it’s been ages since I’ve come across a woman like you.” 

He put his hand on his crotch.

“Like me?”

“On your knees”

“Don’t think so,” you spat out at him. 

He smirked and pulled his gun out from the back of his jeans. 

“On your knees. Don’t wanna repeat.”

"No, wait. I can... we can work it out. Make trades.”

He pointed his gun at you and growled, “Last warning.”

You stared down the barrel contemplating your next move. 

“Fuck…”

He smirked again.

You got on your knees and he undid his belt before letting it fall to the ground. Then he unzipped his jeans, took out his cock, and approached you.

Your eyes widened and he smiled, “Yeah, I know. Now suck.”

“Please. Don’t do this to me.”

He removed the safety of his gun and pointed the barrel at your forehead.

“You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You stopped resisting. He just wanted you to suck him off. Could be worse. You might as well make him cum quickly in your mouth and be rid of it.

You quickly licked the tip of his cock, before placing your lips on it. You had trouble taking it all in your mouth, and you kept your lips only on the tip.

“Damn, you don’t even know how to suck a cock?”

Keeping the gun pointed at your forehead, he grabbed the back of your head with his other hand and held you still, while he thrusted into your mouth with a buck of his hips. He grunted, and keeping his hand against your head, began fucking your mouth at a quick pace.

“Yeah that’s it. Take it. Fuckin’ slut. Not used to sucking big cocks, are ya?”

Tears were beading in the corners of your eyes, you could barely breathe, his cock was hitting the back of your throat with each stroke. Your hands were gripping the jeans on his strong thighs. He stopped abruptly, keeping his cock buried deep in your throat.

“Don’t you dare fucking move.”

You waited, trapped between his grip and his cock. Then he released you and withdrew completely. You coughed and sputtered, holding your sore throat.

He laughed, “I don’t know how you survived this far. Surely not by sucking cocks. Again, now!"

You shook your head but he held you the same way as before, thrusting in and fucking your mouth fast and deep again. He tucked the gun into the back of his pants and grabbed your head with both hands before claiming you even faster and harder. He paused again, staying deep in your mouth, and said, "Good girl."

He pulled away and said: “Maybe you could get better with practice. Too bad I don't have time to find out. You're not worth wasting food on."

Before he could grab his gun, you quickly got up and ran towards the nearest trees, so he couldn't shoot you in the back. But he was fast, and didn't even try to reach for his gun. He ran after you and within seconds he was on your heels. He grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down.

You plunged down on the ground, dry leaves softening your fall. You tried to crawl away but he straddled your ass. The man was heavy and you felt your hips sink into the soil under you. 

“Get off me! Take all my stuff… Just let me go!” you pleaded but he just laughed. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back.  You cried out and winced at the sensation of his patchy beard scratching your cheek. 

“Stupid slut, ya really think I need your junk?” he growled in your ear and nuzzled your neck. Your  eyes rolled back at the sensation. 

“Your holes are all that you're good for.” 

He turned you over roughly and straddled your hips again. He clasped both of your wrists with one hand and pinned them over your head. He was panting and you saw drops of sweat on his forehead. His odor, an overwhelming mixture of sweat and musk, reached your nostrils. 

You were staring up at him with your eyes widened by fear. His grin was carnal and he was ogling down your body. Then he grabbed the neckline of your tank top and pulled it down in one swift motion, ripping the fabric easily. You cried out feeling the burn on your skin. Your whole chest was exposed to him now, and he quickly grabbed your breasts, squeezed them and then painfully twitched your perked up nipples.  A whine escaped your lips which didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Ain’t I lucky? Got myself a real whore. My men will love your pretty sounds when they’re stuffing your needy cunt.” 

He let go of your hands and you were about to fight when you saw him take out his gun. 

“Let’s start easy,” he said and you felt the cold muzzle pressed to your forehead. 

“Push them together,” he pointed at your breasts with a jerk of his head. 

You followed his order, pressing your tits together. You did not want to get shot. His hand reached behind your neck and he lifted up your upper body. “Make ‘em nice and juicy for me.” He was squeezing your neck tight and you glanced up at him with glossy eyes. 

Then you dropped your head down and spat. It landed on your chest and slid down between your breasts.

“More”, he commanded and gave your head a shake. You gathered more saliva in your mouth and opened your lips to let it dribble out. The man’s gaze followed its path, his eyes blown out, and when it reached your plush breasts he began smearing the liquid over your tits with his thick fingers, gliding them through your cleavage and then rubbing it over your perked up nipples. You whined. 

The man stood up on his knees on both sides of your hips and took out his leaking cock. You were following his every move pushing your breasts together for him to use. 

“Look at you! Waiting to be titty fucked. Bet that’s why you were walkin’ alone in the woods- were waitin’ for a nice big cock to find ya.”

He grabbed you by the neck and quicky pushed his cock between your tits and started fucking them. You were sitting as still as possible, watching him use you for his pleasure, his mouth agape and half lidded eyes devouring the sight of your glistening breasts massaging his cock. 

You were mesmerized by the movements of his tip sliding closer and then further away from your face. 

“Don’t just stare, slut, lick it!” 

Still holding your tits for him, you stuck your tongue out and every time the angry red head approached your face, you kitten-licked its weeping slit. 

You pressed your thighs together looking for some pressure on your pussy. You moaned softly and the man noticed it. Still looking at you with dazed eyes, he smirked.

“What is it, little whore? Your pussy wants attention, huh?”

Having said that, he released your neck and not expecting it you fell back on the ground. 

Pointing the gun at your face he kicked your thighs apart with his knee. “Let’s see her.”

You inhaled sharply, and did what he told you- slid the jeans and panties down your legs exposing yourself to him. He snatched the underwear off your ankles and pressed them to his nose. 

He closed his eyes, breathing in your scent and slowly pumping his throbbing cock. ”Soaked them through, ya dirty girl. Your sloppy cunt really wants my dick.” 

Then he leaned over you with a groan and shoved your panties into your whining mouth. 

“Taste, yourself, slut. Come on. Open your legs. Wider…”

You opened up your thighs and looked up at him. His broad frame covered you from the sun completely, his face close to yours. The taste of your own slick turned you on. 

One second you felt his fingers at your entrance and the next he plunged them into your pussy. The arousal flowing out of you made the intrusion almost painless and you felt so full so fast, your head started spinning. His groan brought you back.  

“Mmm, fuck yeah, so wet. Bet you can soak many cocks right now.” He lowered his head, pulled your panties out of your mouth and grazed his lips over yours, not kissing you yet your heart seemed to stop at that moment. “S’good that I stumbled on ya, little slut. My men will be pleased.”

As fast as he filled you, he pulled his fingers out and sat back on his knees between your thighs. Your pussy clamped around nothing. You felt a cold breeze on your wet folds and wiggled on the ground. 

“Lie still!” the man snapped and slapped your pussy so hard you yelped and started crying. You chewed on your lip trying to control your emotions but all of them drowned you whole and your chest was shaking with sobs. 

The attacker’s dark smile sent chills all over your trembling body. He quickly gave your poor pussy another blow, less painful yet you tried to close your legs. That really angered him. 

“Fuckin’ pain in the ass. Can’t stay still, dumb whore. You’re gonna get it anyway.”

He grabbed your neck with one hand, and you instinctively stood up following his movements, your throat already sore from the way he fucked your mouth.

He dragged you to his backpack and pulled out a rope while maintaining his grip on your neck. You felt all your hairs stand up, and the blood left your face. He pulled you to the nearest tree, against which he pinned you, back to the trunk. He pressed himself to you, straining his hard cock against your naked pussy. He put your hands above your head and tied them to the tree with the rope. He squeezed so hard while tying your wrists that you started sobbing again.

He took a few steps back to look at you, naked from the waist down, your breasts exposed, your top torn in half. Then he took his cock in his hand.

“No…please… I'll do anything"

"Oh, you will", he said, smirking.

He came up, pressed himself against you and spread your legs with his knees, before pushing his cock into your pussy. You cried out, being split open by his huge member. His fingers had prepared you a little but he was so big and girthy you felt a slight burning. He put his hand over your mouth and asked “Really wanna scream and get my men here to ruin your holes?”

You froze looking into his dark hungry eyes.

“So? Fuckin answer me.”

You shook your head.

“That’s better,” he said, removing his hand.

He sped up the thrusting but the position didn't allow him to fuck you as deep as he wanted. So he grabbed your thighs in his hands and put them around his waist, before sliding into you again and bottoming out this time, in one go.

“No! No… please…. I can’t.”

He growled against your ear scratching your cheek with his stubble, picking up the pace. 

“Fuckin slut. Gonna take you back to my camp. My men will enjoy your… fuck… your pussy.”

"No! Please!"

“Oh fuck that’s good. Your cunt is fuckin tight. Fuuuuck…”

He was making you bounce on his cock, holding your thighs so tight against him that he was hitting  your cervix with each stroke.

“How many guys can fuck you before you pass out, huh? Your pussy’d be so full of cum that we’d call you our cumbag, before fucking you again. So long since we fucked a wet hole like yours. Oh fuck…. that’s good.”

He didn’t slow down and still was fucking you just as hard and fast. You couldn’t help but moan as his dick was massaging your g-spot. 

“You have so many holes to fill, dumb slut. It would be a shame to use just one, yeah?” he asked, panting against your ear. “We can fuck your pussy, mouth and ass at the same time. Fuck all your three holes, for hours. What'd ya think of it, bitch?”

Suddenly his hands let go of your thighs and you put your feet back on the ground, your legs weak and shaking after the pounding. “Let’s see your ass, slut,” he murmured and started untying your hands. When your hands were free you almost fell on the ground exhausted but he grasped your hair and pulled you up. 

“Not done with you. Turn around.”

“Please, no,” you begged, your voice quiet and weak but he answered your pleading with a slap on your tear-stained cheek. Your skin burned and not wanting to make him angry again, you followed his command and turned around. He grabbed your hands and pinned them around the tree like you were hugging it, tying them together. 

His finger glided along the scratches on your back and ass, left by the tree bark after his rough fucking and he slapped your ass cheek so hard your breath hitched. A half moan half sob left your lips and you pressed your body to the tree to get further away from your attacker. 

“What are you doing? Please, no… not that.” You begged him with tremors in your voice.

He didn’t answer. You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes were fixed on your ass. He spread your cheeks with his hands.

“Damn…,” he said.

He left one of his hands on one of your buttocks to keep spreading them, and brushed your asshole with his fingers. Without lingering on it he glided them down to your pussy and plunged two fingers into you.

“Can’t believe ya’re soaked getting fucked by a stranger who jumped you. You wanted that, huh? Fuckin slut.”

He drew his fingers out, and this time went back up to your asshole. He placed his middle finger on your ring and gently pressed it. Surprisingly gently, considering how violent he had been so far.

That didn’t stop you from panicking. You couldn't take it there. He was too big.

He pressed harder on the ring. The tip of his middle finger prodded inside just a little. He went back to your pussy and collected your wetness again, then returned to your ass, gliding his fingers along your skin on the way. He pressed on your asshole, and this time it gave in more.

You were paralyzed. Restricted by the rope on your hands, by his physical power. By your fear which froze you.

He pressed his body to you, and whispered in your ear, “This one is really tight.”

You swallowed, and wondered if he was really gonna do it. If he was just trying to scare you, or if... and then he pushed his middle finger in further, up to the knuckle. He moved it in and out, but you were so tight around his finger.

He removed it and pressed his cock to your ass. He whispered in your ear, “How am I gonna fit all my cock in it? You should relax if you don’t want it to be too painful.”

You felt him kneel behind you. He spread your ass cheeks with his hands, wide. And spat. You felt saliva flow from the top of the crease of your ass, down to your asshole. He didn't move, as if he was watching it slide.

The moment you felt the liquid reach your ring, he added his tongue to it. He slid it down and spread the saliva around your tense muscle.

And he licked your ass, slowly. He didn’t rush it. His hands were still spreading your buttocks, his mouth not leaving your asshole for a second, working his tongue over it. He pulled back slightly, and licked his middle finger before pressing it against your rear entrance. He went in easily this time. He took it out, and added a second finger. You bit your upper arm. Again he licked your ass. You felt his tongue searching you, his saliva moistening your hole.

“Mmm”, he said.

He got up and you heard him spit into his hand, before applying the saliva to his tip. He grabbed your shoulder with one hand for leverage and pressed his cock against your ring.

You struggled, pulling on the rope.

“Fuck! Stop that, you’re pissin’ me off again.”

You didn’t stop until you heard the click of his gun again. Then you felt the cold metal against your temple and froze.

“I’m gonna fuck your ass. Whether you’re alive, or not. Your choice."

His voice was ice cold.

You closed your eyes and relaxed your muscles as best you could. And you felt him push. Force passage. It seemed like an eternity, and he growled against your ear.

“So…fuckin tight.”

In a second the tip of his cock entered. You gasped from the pain.

He pulled back before pushing again and you cried out.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch” he said, before putting his hand over your mouth and pressing the muzzle to your temple more firmly.

He made back and forth movements, bigger and bigger. Sinking into you a little deeper each time.

“Oh yeah… oh fuck! Oh that ass…. fuck.”

He picked up the pace.

“You know what I want now? I want ya to cum on my cock. My big cock ruining your ass.”

You shook your head. No way you’d give him that. But he slid his hand down to your pussy, pushing you away from the trunk a little. He lingered on your clit, before burying two fingers in your pussy.

“Still dripping.. such a good slut for me.”

He applied the same rhythm to his cock and his fingers. You bit your lip, trying not to give him what he wanted. He felt your holes contracting, his fingers still in your pussy. 

“No… stop it.”

You felt the gun press to your temple again.

“Gimme what I want. I want you to squeeze my cock while you cum.”

You felt your body react to his fingers. The wave was coming. You tried to stop it, but to no avail. Your breathing quickened.

"Oh, yeah. You're gonna be a good girl for me, I can feel it. Fuck, you’re really gonna cum for a man you don’t know, a man who’s assaulting you. What kinda whore does that?”

He kept sliding his thumb over your clit, two fingers in your pussy, his cock in your ass. Your core tightened as you came with a long moan, not being able to hold back any longer. 

“Oh fuck yeah! Squeezing my cock and my fingers. What a slut! Oh fuck!”

The waves of climax shook your body time and time again. you shut your eyes tight feeling your holes clamping around his cock and fingers.

“Fuckin hell, little thing, it’s so tight. Nah, wanna see your face.” He pulled his cock out of your asshole and his fingers left your stretched pussy. He rushed to untie your hands, his cock throbbing and smearing his precum and your juices on your back. 

He roughly turned you around and being absolutely spent you plopped on your knees. The man didn’t mind. His hand grabbed your hair and he held your head up, his glistening tip being just a few inches from your face. 

“Gonna paint your face now. Open wide.” You parted your lips and closed your eyes but he slapped your cheek again. 

“Eyes on the prize, slut!”

You followed his command and looked at his big veiny hand pumping his cock vigorously. It was drenched with your combined fluids and the sounds of squelching and his heavy breathing filled the air around you. He moaned and started coming, shooting thick ropes of cum on your face. You felt them on your cheeks, nose, tongue and lips. In your mind you thanked him for not coming into your eyes. 

He milked the last drop out of his cock and then looked down at you with half lidded eyes. The lips twitched up with a small smile as he observed his work.  

“Oh, look at ya, all filthy, my little slut,” he cooed at you mockingly. “Show me.” He took your chin with his fingers and lifted it up. You opened your mouth wider showing his cum glistening on your tongue. He huffed with a proud look. “Such a good whore for me. Now let’s clean you up.” 

Still holding your face by the chin, he began collecting his spend with his finger and wiping it on your tongue. You felt his salty cum slide down and into your throat. Your eyes teared up but he didn’t let you close your mouth until your face was clean. 

“Swallow,” he said calmly as his hand left your chin. 

Your throat contracted, downing all of his cum and you licked your lips. Then you opened your mouth again, stuck out your tongue, showing him the result and looking up with a teary and adoring gaze. His hand cupped your cheek and he stroked it with his thumb. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly and he gave you a soft smile. He helped you up and held you close against him, rubbing your body and warming it up. 

“Thought you were gonna use the safe word this time. I got carried away,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m a tough girl,” you whispered, tilting your head up to look at him. He kissed you, gently and lovingly, as your body and soul found comfort in his embrace.

*********

@iamasaddie @multiversed-daydreamer

#joel miller #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #rough cnc #consensual noncon

[thebisexualdogdad]

One piece preferences - How they spend halloween (GN!reader)

Luffy -

● trick or treating of course

● has a super detailed costume that he spent months making

● and starts ringing doorbells the moment the sun goes down and goes way past when the rest of the kids have gone to bed

● "Luffy it's nearly midnight I don't think people are going to open their door for you anymore"

● "but we're so close to finishing my trick or treating map, we've only got one more block to go!"

● has eaten all his candy two days after Halloween

Nami -

● hands out candy while watching scary movies

● she's made you guys a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and turns your favorite movies on

● also snacks on the candy in between visits from the kids

● pretends to be scared by the movie so she can cuddle with you

● falls asleep on the couch surrounded by empty candy wrappers

Sanji -

● throws the best Halloween party in town

● has to hire a bouncer because there's a line of people trying to get in

● as well as a bartender to make signature halloween themed drinks

● he spent the last week decorating your home

● and made all the appetizers for the party himself

● wears a couples costume with you that wins his own costume contest

Zoro -

● turns all the lights off and pretends not to be home

● unfortunately for him your neighbors saw his shadow walk by the window and started knocking on the door

● you convinced him to find something he could hand out

● so he gave the kids some ketchup packets he found in the kitchen

● "you really didn't buy any candy at all?"

● "Hey at least I didn't give them toothbrushes"

Usopp -

● favorite part of Halloween is getting to prank people

● hides in bushes and scares people walking by

● TP's random houses with giant trees knowing it'll be that much more difficult to clean up

● has you filming him so he can post the videos to tik tok hoping to go viral

● but of course the only one that does is the the video of a guy punching him after he jumped out at him with a fake machete

Shanks -

● is the guy in the neighborhood known for handing out full sized candy bars

● all the kids make sure to go to your house first

● you two sit on the porch handing out candy and playing card games

● Shanks compliments every single kids costume that comes by

● plus he's got wine in cups to go for the parents who need a little pick me up

● so he's the neighborhood favorite for both the kids and the parents

Buggy -

● runs the local haunted house

● goes all out with the a little too realistic special effects

● has had the cops called on him multiple times over the years because of the amount of terrified screams that can be heard blocks away

● you once had to convince a cop that the body he had hanging at the start of the haunted house was in fact not a real body

● and at the end of the night he's already planning on how he can outdo himself next year

Mihawk -

● doesn't even know it's Halloween yet everyone thinks he's dressed up

● "nice vampire costume dude"

● "I don't know what you're talking about"

● "it's halloween… and you're dressed like a vampire… right?"

● "this is how I dress everyday you peasant"

● you have to drag Mihawk away before he fights this dude

Cabaji -

● trick or treats and gets mad when people say "aren't you two a little too old to be trick or treating?"

● wears one of those "this is my costume" t shirts

● drinks beer while you guys are trick or treating

● steals candy from kids that don't have parents with them

● and then eggs people houses to finish off the night

#one piece imagine #monkey d luffy imagine #monkey d luffy x reader #nami imagine #nami x reader #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #roronoa zoro imagine #roronoa zoro x reader #usopp imagine #usopp x reader #shanks imagine #shanks x reader #buggy imagine #buggy x reader #dracule mihawk imagine #dracule mihawk x reader #cabaji imagine #cabaji x reader #x gender neutral reader #preferences

[ramp-it-up]

Doctor and Mr. Cavill

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Veterinarian!Reader

Word Count: 5.9K 😓.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT, Explicit description of graphic sex. Read at your own risk. Dog in distress. Angst, pining, flirting, nerd activities, Marvel vs. DC, brat behavior, dirty talk, size kink, oral sex, raw p in v (wrap before you tap) pulling out, cum play. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is in response to an ask from @notmyfault404 about Kal’s favorite Veterinarian, nerd activities and Henry. This story sucked me in. Let me know if you liked it!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

The film production came to town at the end of summer, buying the now defunct airport for a production studio and moving scores of staff into town. The uptick in your business was the first indication that your life was going to change. 

The production meant two years of publicity and economic prosperity for your town. It was exciting. And the fact that Henry Cavill was the lead in the production was no small news item. 

Sightings at the grocery store, on the running trails, at GNC were all everyone could talk about, but you didn’t have time for all that. You had a business to run.

You got busier, with production increasing the population of the town by over 200 people. Including the talent, Everyone was buzzing with the fact that Henry rented a house out on State Route 60, not too far from your own. 

You weren’t that pressed. Sure, he was fine as hell, but he was probably a jackass and you would probably never run into him.

You were so wrong.

One blustery late fall day, an American Akita was brought into your office by a bystander who found him caught in a bush along a greenway, dirty and covered with brambles.

He was muddy, overexposed and shaky. He was agitated and growling at everyone, until you came near. You gave him a firm command.

“Sit!”

He obeyed immediately and whined, still stressed, but calmer now. You approached him and kneeled, holding out your hand and taking his paw when he offered. You smiled, and he panted in return.

“It’s okay, buddy. Let me help you.”

20 minutes later, you had him on the table in one of your examination rooms

“Now keep still. I know it’s uncomfortable right now, but I’ve got to get you unmatted and then I’ll get you some nice soothing salve for those scratches.”

The dog whined, but stopped fidgeting and stood still, as if he understood what you’d said. 

“Good boy!”

The huge animal panted at you and looked as if he smiled, but then whined again as you started detangling and brushing again. 

Regina, your nurse, came in and microchipped him, and then turned to you with her mouth wide open when she saw what came back. 

“You’ll never believe who this dog’s owner is…”

After you found out about Kal’s parentage, you fed and watered him, cleaned and groomed him, attended to his coat and his scratches and were playing with him when Henry arrived at your office.

“Did you run away Kal? Is he a good dad?” 

You leaned over to him conspiratorially.

“I bet he’s not.”

You tutted as you worked on the last bit of matting, soothing hums falling from your lips as you applied the ointment to the lesions on his skin.

“I would take you to my house in a minute, he doesn't deserve you, does he?” 

You were concentrating on medicating his leg when you heard a response.

“You’re quite right.”

You looked up at Kal when you heard a deep British voice rumble through you. You slowly turned around and were met with the most beautiful imperfect blue eyes you’d ever seen.

“I don’t deserve him.”

You drew yourself up to your full height, which didn’t stop Henry Cavill from towering over you. Damn. 

He seemed huge, tall and burly, hair hidden under a baseball cap, but escaping out of the back into thick curls at his nape. His face was flushed, and his eyes held a look of worry and embarrassment, but held your gaze.

You felt like you were in one of those old romcoms, where the room was spinning around you. You had the urge to dive into his eyes.

“Mr. Cavill? I’m Dr. Y/LN.” 

Henry’s smile widened and he extended his hand. You looked at it as if it were a fish. You were flustered. He was even more beautiful in person.

You reached for his hand and then stopped, awkwardly.

“Gloves,” came your reply as you held up your hands.

Henry dropped his own hand, as awkwardly as you. Your stomach tumbled.

“I’m Henry. Cavill.”

“Yes,” was all you could say. You knew who he was.

“Mr. Cavill. Kal is fine, but he was exposed to the elements for quite a while.”

Henry had a stricken look on his face.

“Believe me, Dr. Y/LN. I have been distressed with worry for about 14 hours now. Kal and I went running yesterday evening and he saw and chased a squirrel. He wouldn’t respond and I couldn’t find him. I feared the worst all night…”

Henry paused, trying to compose himself. You saw his emotion and you heard his voice crack and you softened, all over. You should really stop staring. 

“That is unfortunate, but luckily someone found him and brought him in…” 

You found yourself suddenly at a loss for words. 

“Yes.” 

Henry smiled, a genuine, shy smile. 

“And it seems you are taking expert care of him.”

Kal whined and you tore your eyes away from his owner.

“Hey buddy. Yeah. I’m almost done, just gotta get this paw...”

You smiled at Kal and turned to Kal to continue your work, smiling at Henry over your shoulder.

Henry watched you with his dog and his heart melted. You were gentle, kind, and caring. And that voice. Your sultry tones were soothing, not just to Kal. You were calming Henry’s nerves.

Henry didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t you. 

Somehow he was expecting a veterinarian to be someone not quite so lovely. His heart was already racing, but when he saw you he swore that it skipped a beat. 

Henry was transfixed with you, his eyes searching for a glimpse of your body beneath your white coat. He ascertained generous curves and found himself quite pleased. 

As you turned around and caught him staring, he remembered Kal.   

“Mr. Cavill!”

Henry startled and turned red as a bashful smile graced his handsome face.

“Y-yes?”

He seemed flustered and awkward, but he was also a highly trained actor. You resisted any benevolent thoughts as you handed him a couple of tubes of salve and reminded him of the routines to make sure that Kal healed properly.

“Thank you Dr. Y/LN. Thank you for taking care of Kal …”

“No need for thanks. It’s what we do here.”

“Well…Excellent!”

Henry graced you with that beautiful smile and you wanted to melt, but you stayed strong.

You two stared at one another until Kal whined. You released him from the grooming lead and Henry prompted him to jump down from the table. 

You watched, your heart warming to the sight of Henry practically rolling on the floor with his pup. You could watch the scene forever, but you had work to do.

“Mr. Cavill.”

“Yes.”

Those bewitching blues looked up at you. You held in a gasp as Henry sat on one knee at your feet with Kal. It was quite unnerving for some reason. You cleared your throat.

“I have another patient I need to see in this room.”

Henry was deep in thought after you kicked him out of your office. He couldn’t get you out of his head. He walked slowly to his car with Kal, almost turning around and back into your office when his phone buzzed. It was his agent.

Thoughts of you were pushed aside as he answered the phone.

Two weeks later, you entered your exam room looking down at the patient chart with no other warning than a smirking Regina who handed the clipboard to you.

You were greeted by a big handsome brute.

And his dog.

“Kal!”

You were assaulted by licks and jumps when you got near him.

“Down, boy, sorry, Doc. Kal! That’s no way to behave.”

Henry took Kal’s collar in hand to get him off of you, but he was ignored while you laughed and hugged the dog. Soon, he obeyed Henry and sat down on the table, smiling at you and thumping his huge tail.

Speaking of huge, you noticed Henry’s hands. They were large, with thick fingers and pronounced veins which extended down his thick forearms. His muscles were flexing from the effort to restrain Kal, but Henry’s face was serene. 

And staring directly at you.

You cleared your throat.

“What are we here for this time?”

Your saucy raised eyebrow did things to Henry, he decided. He’d been thinking about you ever since that first time and he was intrigued by you.

“Our visit today is two-fold. Kal needs his yearly shots. We’re in the states for the next few months filming and you took such good care of him last time… well, I’d like you to be his veterinarian while we’re here.”

You grinned at Henry, and he paused, blinking at you as if in shock. He wanted to make you smile forever. You cocked your head at him. 

“And two?”

“What?”

Henry was outright flustered. You chuckled.

“What’s the second reason that you’re here?”

“Yes! Right! I want to thank you for taking care of Kal. How about I take you to lunch as a way to express my gratitude?”

You frowned and Henry’s stomach dropped as you appeared to have eaten something sour. He knew he shouldn’t have tried it.

“I’m trying to think of a reason not to…” 

You looked up at him with those big doe eyes and Henry turned to mush. Then he recovered and smiled, giving his best rake performance.

“Well, if you’re thinking anything about Dr/Patient ethics, I’m not your patient. Kal is.” 

Henry hadn’t had to pursue like this in quite a while. It was refreshing.

You finally smiled as you prepared to counter his argument.

“But in a veterinary practice, an animal’s owner is a client.”

“Dr. Y/LN, it’s just lunch. Nothing more.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s just a thank you. No funny business.” 

Henry held his hands up so as to indicate he wouldn’t touch you. Why were you disappointed?

You avoided Henry’s eyes as you opened the door and called for Regina to set up the shots. Henry took the chance to subtly check you out again, making sure to have his eyes elsewhere when you turned back around.

“When did you want to go out to lunch, Mr. Cavill?”

Henry shook his head and chuckled.

“Henry. Call me Henry. Dr. Y/LN.”

He waited for you to offer your first name to him, although he could read it on the diploma on the wall. When you just smiled, he just shook his head again.

“I was thinking today.”

“I– I – ummmmm…”

“Your nurse, Regina is it? Regina told me you hadn’t eaten yet.”

Henry raised his eyebrow and looked at his watch. You couldn't help but notice the veins in his arm.

“It is 1:28 pm and you haven’t had anything to eat today except coffee.” He looked at you as if you were in trouble, but that would have been too familiar. Henry was quite displeased that you weren’t caring for yourself, but he didn’t dare say it. He hardly knew you. This wild urge to take care of you was unexpected.

“Regina cleared your afternoon.”

“Did she now?”

You went to the door and called for her. Regina appeared as if she were close by, with the shots prepared on a tray.

“Here are Kal’s shots, Doc. And I’ve rescheduled your appointments for your lunch date.”

You scowled at her and she smiled brightly as she pushed you back into the room by the tray. You would take care of her later.

You turned around and went to wash your hands and put on your gloves. You sighed and decided to go with the flow.

“How about Dave and Buster’s?”

Henry looked nonplussed.

“Do Buster and David serve good healthful food?”

“No,” you grinned.

An hour and a half later, after dropping Kal at Henry’s place and a lunch of ribs, wings, and nachos, you and Henry were having the time of your life playing giant electronic Connect Four. When you beat him the third time, he pulled you away and started browsing the games. 

The darkness of the arcade, and the fact that it was 3 pm on a Tuesday, made it easy for Henry to not be recognized. His ball cap was quite the disguise.

“Rampage!” Henry yelled like a kid. “No wayyyy! I used to love this. One of Midway’s best games.”

You gaped at him.

“Oh Come on. I’m a massive nerd. I love stuff like this. We have to play!”

You just laughed.

“A man after my own heart! I’ll play you, but we have to scope out the other games. You have to have a plan for your game play.”

Henry stopped when you said he was after your heart. He knew it was a figure of speech, but he decided it was not an untruth. He cleared his throat.

“Right. Seems you’re a bit of a nerd yourself, Dr. Y/LN.”

You grinned.

“You should see my comic book collection.”

Henry’s heart surged, that was so fucking sexy. You out of your doctor’s coat was also damned attractive, and he was about to say so when he saw his face on an arcade game. 

You two stood in front of Injustice, a game that had many of the DC Superheroes and Villains illustrated on it. You and Henry stared at each other.

“I dare you.”

Henry never backed down from a dare.

“Challenge accepted, Doctor.”

It was on.

—

It was basically dinner time when Henry dropped you back at the office, but you weren’t mad. You shivered at the cold and pulled your jacket around yourself. Henry wanted to pull you into his arms for warmth, but this wasn’t that kind of date.

You smiled that smile at him.

“That was a great lunch, but you lied.”

Henry looked so cute with the frown on his face.

“That was funny business. I haven't laughed like that in a long time. I had a ball.”

Henry was relieved and followed you as you turned and went to your car.

“I’m very glad. You ate something and had some fun. Splendid.”

You were trapped between Henry and your car as he beamed down at you. This feeling could not be denied, you realized with dismay. But you were going to try with all your might. Henry was only temporary. He was probably just searching for comfort near set. You needed to guard your heart.

“Well, have a good evening, Henry.”

You reached for your door handle. Henry backed up to let you open it.

You got into the driver’s seat.

“Perhaps we can do this again sometime, Doctor.”

You just smiled at him and said, “Good night, Mr. Cavill.”

Then you closed your door, started the car, and pulling away, Henry realized that he didn’t get your number as he’d planned.

“Call me Henry!” 

He shouted at your taillights.

This was getting inconvenient.

A week after your lunch, you’d taken to having nightly dreams of Henry, and it just wouldn’t do. You woke up in the middle of the night with your clit pounding and you’d worn out the batteries of your wand, knowing it would be a poor substitute for the man from Jersey.

You had to get Henry Cavill out of your head. Work. That was the answer.

You walked past Regina’s desk around 11:30 and didn’t realize she wore that smirk until you turned the doorknob to the examination room.

“Shit!” 

You cursed under your breath as you opened the door to Kal’s bark.

Henry stopped mid-pace when you did so. His eyes looked a little wild, just like the first time you’d met, but there was a difference now.

The difference was that Henry was distracted by need, not worry. He’d thought about you every waking moment, and woke up with a stiff reminder of his dreams every morning. He needed more of you, or to be in detox.

“Mr. Cavill.” 

Henry's jaw clenched at your continued insistence at the formality. Your core clenched in turn. You were in danger. You moved to pet Kal, seeking him to be your protector.

“Dr. Y/LN.”

Henry’s deep voice was gravelly and you tried not to gravitate nearer to him.

“We’re here today because it is a bit of an emergency. I’m headed to Britain for a couple of weeks this weekend, and I need boarding for Kal. Beginning Friday? Regina said that you had facilities?”

You really needed to talk to your meddling nurse. But you looked down at Kal who started to lick your face. You could not say no. You went over to your computer.

“I’ll check the boarding schedule. I’m sure we have room…” 

You opened your laptop and pulled up the schedule. Then you frowned, your eyes flicked over to Henry, then back at the screen.

You looked so adorable as you bit your lip. Then you huffed, seemingly miffed at what you saw.

What Henry saw was a little bit of the brat. And that made his cock a little stiff so that he had to shift his stance. That’s it, he decided. He needed to tame you.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavill. It seems we are booked up this weekend, but we will have an opening on the following Monday…”

“Please, call me Henry.” 

He was begging now. 

You took him in as your nipples got hard. His beauty was no question, his eyes, his hair. It was left out today, the curls unruly as he swiped his hand through them, thinking.

“Well, I… I’ll have to find another arrangement. My flight is commercial and leaves early Saturday morning, else I would take him with.”

Henry looked at you with sad eyes and so did Kal. 

“Could you recommend?”

Yours was the best facility within 50 miles. You sighed and couldn’t believe what you were about to say. 

“I can keep him at my home Mr… Henry. Just for the weekend. I have lots of land off of Route 60.” 

Henry’s eyebrow raised when you mentioned where you lived. He lived on Route 60. You continued.

“Kal will have lots of room. And I’ll bring him with me to work on Monday…”

Henry moved into your space impetuously. You stood your ground, however.

“Splendid!” 

You stared up at him, unconsciously biting your lip. The energy between you intensified. It seemed natural to go on tiptoe and reach up to brush the hair that fell into his eyes.

But you didn’t.

“Well, Kal is such a handsome boy, how could I say no to him?”

You looked into Kal’s eyes and petted him. The loving way you looked at his dog made Henry a little bit jealous. He surprised himself.

“Can I have…”

Henry’s voice was now impossibly a bit deeper, and needy. You sighed, and Henry wanted to claim those lips. He thought that outrageous, but this attraction between you was undeniable. 

“...Your number and address. I can bring him to your place Friday evening. My flight leaves at 5 am to New York Saturday for my long business layover. Then the red eye that evening to London. I wouldn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the night…”

Henry was thinking just the opposite as he smiled down at you. He’d love to wake you up. And you were thinking the same thing.

Your first instinct was to tell him that he could bring Kal by the office and you would take him home with you, boundaries. But you were exhausted of running from this feeling. Henry gazed at you hopefully and it was your turn to be flustered.

You held out your hand, palm up.

Henry, non-plussed, took your hand awkwardly and grinned, thrilled at the chance to touch you. You laughed, a melody to his ears, as you shook your head and said,

“Give me your phone, Henry”

Henry blushed at your gentle command, released your hand, and pulled out his phone while shaking his head at himself. His grin was the greatest thing ever, and the curls falling forward into his face were a distraction.

He handed his phone to you and you took it, concentrating as you entered your information, feeling his eyes on you. When you gave it back, he looked at your number and address like it was a newfound treasure.

“Thank you. I can’t tell you what this means to me… to us. Isn’t that right, Kal.”

You both looked over to Kal, who barked. 

“What time should I bring him by?”

You looked up and thought. You were so damn cute to Henry.

“Well, we close early on Fridays. 2 pm. You could bring him by 3?”

Henry thought for a moment. 

“Perfect.”

He was looking at your lips.

“We’ll see you then. Doctor.”

The title was beginning to feel like an endearment. You didn’t wipe the smile off your face for the rest of the day, despite Regina’s side eyes.

——

You don’t know why you were nervous. It was a simple thing really. Just Superman dropping off his dog at your house. No biggie.

You heard Henry’s car on your gravel driveway and went out on your porch

Henry marveled at your place. He got out of the car looking around appreciatively as he got Kal and his gear out of the SUV. You led him to the fence line behind the house. 

“You can take him off the leash. Back here he has room to run free.”

Henry did so and Kal immediately took off and galavanted around your animals there. He was cozying up to one of your rescued alpacas as you and Henry watched.

“This place is… there are no words.”

You flushed.

“It’s my childhood home. My dad was the town vet before me, and I think he loved animals more than I do. I grew up thinking he was Dr. Doolittle.”

You became wistful with memories. Then you looked at Henry, bowling him over. His heart was taken in that moment.

“I wanted to be just like him, even when he told me to get out of this town. But I would never leave. He was my hero, a single dad, saving animals. He was my why.”

“Wow. Thank you for sharing.”

You’d never heard Henry’s voice that low. You gave him a small smile.

“He passed away two years ago while I was still in vet school. It was hard.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Henry wanted to take you into his arms.

“Thank you.” 

You straightened your spine.

“I’m sure you’re very busy, with the trip and all..”

Henry smiled at you.

“Would you believe that I’m practically ready to go? Fully packed and all.I’m going to grab an early dinner and head to bed.”

You looked at your watch. It was 3:45.

“Can I make you some tea?”

Henry gave you that beautiful grin.

“I’d like nothing more.”

In your kitchen, Henry soon got up from his seat at your kitchen island to help you make proper British tea.

You were laughing and talking as he teased you for being American. It all felt so natural.

“Where are your teaspoons? See, this is what I mean….”

Henry was standing behind you, not looking for spoons at all, but looking at that ass in your casual at-home leggings. Good god you were hot. You shook your head and turned around quickly to find him facing you.

“They’re right- oh!”

You were deliciously in Henry’s space and as you looked up at him something happened and he leaned down to kiss you. It was a quick press of the lips but it previewed so much more.

“I- I’m sorry. That was way too forward-“

Henry was cut off by you jumping up into his arms and wrapping your legs around him as you kissed him back. His surprise turned to passion as he grunted in his throat as he claimed your mouth. 

He turned you around and sat your bottom on the island, slotting his hips between your legs, his hands on your sides. The kiss was a feral expression of pent up need that was only interrupted by the whistle of the kettle.

You stopped and laughed, and Henry pulled away to take care of the pot. When he turned back around, you were down from the island and all business again. The mood was lost.

You served the tea as if nothing had happened. 

The silence between you two as you drank was big, but thoughtful, not awkward at all. Henry was smirking down into his cup, replaying the kiss in his mind. It was more than he could ever ask for. You, however, were thinking quite the opposite.

You turned to him after you finished your tea and asked, “Want to see my comic book collection?”

10 minutes later, you were upstairs in the comic book room, amid boxes and boxes of classic comic books, the collection started by your father. There were books in every conceivable surface, so you were setting in a bean bag chair while Henry kneeled and flipped through a box of Wolverine comics. 

“Holy hell! You have the Wolverine Top Secret #50! Do you know how much this is worth?!?”

Henry was impressed, and so were you.

“Not really. But I’m intrigued that you are so into a Marvel book, i would think you would be strictly a DC alcolyte, Man of Steel—“

You gasped. 

“Holy shit! I have Superman in my comic book room.”

Henry raised his eyebrow.

“Do you want Superman in your…. nevermind...”

You gaped at him, mouth hinged open at his saucy comment, and Henry was scared that you would kick him out. But you started rolling on the floor laughing instead.

“You’re such a dork, oh my god. ‘Do you want Superman in your…’ hahahaha… that’s what she said… hahahaha…”

Henry laughed too, coming over to tickle you to extend your laughter. It was musical. You two horse played until you weren’t playing any more. You lay beneath Henry, flushed and out of breath and never more beautiful, your shirt halfway up your torso and comic books strewn around you.

He had to kiss you again.

Soon, his mouth strayed from yours to your neck, sloppily marking you up and getting you wet as he rutted against your center. His jeans and your leggings were the only barrier to you full out fucking.

His hand reached under your shirt and you pushed him away, panting as you tried to get your bearings.

Henry was wild, hair in his eyes as he nodded. 

“You’re right. Too far. Too much.”

He leaned back on his knees and your eyes raked from his thick thighs to the bulge in his pants to his dilated eyes.

You stood up, still silent and so did Henry, following you out as you straightened your clothes and your hair. You were wrapped in the last string of decorum in you.

Henry ran his hand in his own hair, looking to the side and catching sight of your bedroom. Then he watched your bottom sway in front of him.

“Just want to bite that ass.”

You heard his lewd comment and wheeled around on him on the landing of the stairs.

“What are you doing? What do you want? A fuck buddy while you’re here? Because…”

“Do shut up, Doctor..”

Henry took your head in his hands and leaned in for a kiss, pausing momentarily to look into your eyes. Then Henry destroyed that string of decorum with his kiss.

Somehow, you wound up on your bed, heavy petting like two teenagers, Henry’s hand up your shirt, teasing your nipples.

When he reached for your pants and slipped his thick fingers into your panties and felt your slick, he cursed.

“Fuck, I don’t have any condoms.”

When you arched and moaned when he breached you, and he felt your tight cunt, he licked his lips.

“No matter, won’t be necessary, just let me eat you out. Take all that off.”

You obeyed, buoyed on a cloud of lust.

“Beautiful.”

Henry gazed at you for a minute, and then you reached for his zipper. He let you pull him toward you and start to work it open.

“Ah ah ah. I'm far too hard for that. Let me.” 

Henry carefully removed his pants around his massive, hard cock, which made his dark blue boxer briefs even darker at his wet tip. You licked your lips and palmed him over his underwear while looking up at him with those eyes. He knew what you were asking.

“Hmmmmm. I’m going to have to say …no.” 

You pouted as Henry chuckled and flipped you over, pulling your hips up so you were on your knees before him. You watched over your shoulder as Henry leaned down to kiss, and then in fact bite, each of your cheeks, rubbing to soothe the sting.

“Oh. If I had more time…”

Henry shook his head and then descended to the valley between, licking a large, rude stripe up the length of you.

“Yes. My dreams, Doctor. This is better than my dreams. Taste like heaven.” 

Then he went to town, feasting on you and moaning, rubbing his nose and chin into your folds, sucking your clit, and causing you to grab his head as you came all over his beautiful face.

When you opened your eyes you were on your back, Henry above you, one hand parting your lips again, and another wrapped around the biggest uncut cock you’d ever seen. You gasped when he inserted a finger into you, not realizing how big his hand really was. It made sense now.

“So gorgeous. But, it seems I’m far too big for you. I fear I’d tear you apart.”

You arched, which elicited a moan. 

“It’s amazing what a body can do. Why don’t we try, and you could always pull out…”

Henry grunted, climbing up between your legs, led by his dick.

“I’ve decided that’s not a good idea. I’ll just use my hand to finish.”

His smirk said he was teasing, but you were mad. Your pussy clenched, seeking fulfillment, as Henry jacked his cock above it, angry red tip projected now and leaking precum on his fingers.

You whined and writhed beneath him.

“Henry... you can’t do that to me…”

Henry nodded his head, eyes ablaze.

“Yes. It would hurt you too much.”

He was stroking faster now, jaw clenching with restraint.

“No. You can’t show me that magnificent cock and not give it to me.”

Henry groaned and leaned down to kiss you, continuing stroking with his hand. His tip was at your entrance, driving you mad.

“Give it to me…Henry…”

“Such a brat.”

Henry bit your ear and you arched your back as he shoved the tip in. Just the tip.

“Henry!”

“I’m giving you what you want, Doctor…”

His voice was controlled in your ear, but you felt his cock jumping inside you.

“God you feel so….. I need to go travel this silken canal.�� But you’re so, so tight…”

You rotated and locked your ankles on his back, making him stop and rest his forehead on yours. You both looked down to where you were connected.

“Stretch me out.”

Your plaintive whisper caused his reserve to snap. 

“Unnnngh. I’m not strong enough to tame you tonight. I want this.” 

Henry started moving, gliding slowly inside you, fucking you open like you’d never been before.

“Hunh, Hunh, Hunh, Hunh…”

You moaned with every inch, the pain a delicious nirvana. You bit Henry’s shoulder until he was fully seated inside.

Henry looked you in your eyes and then closed his and shook his head, as if trying to snap out of a trance.

“You are exquisite, you know that?”

He’s never seen a more beautiful sight than your face when you were full of him. When you shook your head no to his question, Henry started moving.

“We’ll, I'm going to teach you…”

Your fingernails dug into his forearms as he delivered the long strokes which served to short circuit your brain. Sparks were shooting off inside you with every pull and drag of his thick cock along your walls.

When you started moaning with pleasure was when Henry reared up on his knees, pulling your bottom up to rest on his thighs. He held your waist as he pumped inside you, not able to tear his eyes away from his cock destroying you. 

The image of a naked Henry just outright fucking you, along with the heavenly way he was delivering the dick made you start cuming. Him just looking at your clit made it start pulsing. Did he really have x-ray vision?

Henry’s mouth hung open at the way your pussy started creaming around him and when he glanced up at your face, well, it was all over for him.

“Cum with me!” he commanded.

When you screamed is when Henry pulled out, pumping his creamy cum all over your torso. The velocity of his spend, the way it sprayed all over your body and reached your open mouth, extended your orgasm and you howled, literally howled.

You licked your lips, tasting him and hummed as your body vibrated down from the clouds. You felt Henry lay down beside you and start drawing his cum around your areola. Your clit jerked your entire body and Henry raised his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry that was so…”

“Amazing, perfect?”

“…Rushed, but next time, I promise you an entire night of delights.”

You shivered at the promise and bit your lip.

“It’s time to get cleaned up.” 

Henry was admiring his handiwork all over your body. You felt his cock thicken against your thigh. You couldn’t believe it.

“You need the shower?”

“Later. Now. I’m going to tidy you up a bit.”

And Henry’s lips claimed your breast, along with the rest of your body marked by him.

—-

At midnight, after some more fun in bed and the shower and takeout and more fun and another shower, you grabbed Henry’s sweatshirt and pulled it over your head. The sight of you engulfed in it, and knowing you were naked beneath made Henry want to cancel his flight. 

“Can I borrow this?”

Henry chuckled, “Borrow. Right.” Henry grabbed your neck and brought you in for a forehead kiss.

“Let’s trade. A sweatshirt for…”

He held up your still wet panties pulled out of his pocket. You gasped.

“No deal!”

Henry held it above your head as you tried in vain to jump and retrieve your underwear. You knocked him off balance into the couch and somehow wound up straddling his crotch.

Henry grabbed your ass as he felt the heat radiating off you.

“I can’t get enough, and now I have to leave…” 

His petulant pout was everything. So you kissed it.

“I’ve reconsidered, your sweatshirt smells like you. When I wake up wet from dreams of you, I want to be enveloped in your scent.”

You were trying very hard to be still, but you felt the bulge in Henry’s jeans get bigger. He brought your panties to his nose.

“My thoughts exactly.”

You started moving on Henry’s lap, your warm wetness seeping through the stiff material to his stiff dick.

“Give me one more thing before you leave.”

Henry’s eyes were dilated, lust blown and beautiful.

“Anything.”

“Your cum down my throat.”

“Christ, Doctor…”

#ask dj #dj will answer #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x veterinarian!reader #doctor and mr cavill #henry cavill rpf #kal cavill

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere Vampire X f! reader pt. 1

The Woods PT. 2

Tw: noncon, dubcon,manipulation, mind control, isolation, sexual attraction to blood, blood.

A/N: This chapter is a slow burn kind. Mainly because the second chapter is just going to be smut due to certain circumstances which are revealed at the end of the story.

Kofi: Wanna buy me a coffee?

🍒🍒🍒🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

Your quiet gothic-themed village was never afraid of many things. Not even the bubonic plague scared the villagers. But, something that did scare them was the woods. They called it The Forest of Blood or El Bosque de Sangre. A long time ago, during the medieval ages, a family of wealthy nobles from Transylvania moved to your village. With their luggage were a human-sized coffin and a blanket with engravings of DC on them. They stayed in their castle surrounded by woods until the villager's livestock began to die. Cows and pigs as pale as ghosts with markings on their necks. The only clue was a trail of blood leading into the dark forest.

The villagers took their weapons and marched to the noble's castle, only to find the family in such a horrific condition, not even the graveyard thieves wanted them. Though, others say the family are beings of another name. Some called them Nosferatus, Draculas, Creatures of the Night, Demons, Bloodsuckers, anything but a human being. But that never worried you. What worries you were the girls going missing at the start of every winter, about a couple weeks before the first snowfall. No one knew who would be next, but no one dared to lock their daughters inside. For the last time they did, your village of Verano had mysteriously lost numerous amounts of harvest and livestock. And so here you are, walking to your grandmother's house to keep her company.

It didn't bother you that it's dark as you walk the dirt roads to your grandmother's house. You were used to the dark. It felt like home in a weird way. Even the predators that snatch livestock from the pens respect you as if you are one of their own. Although, it would lead to the villagers thinking you are a witch of some sort. But that didn't bother you either, for you always thought about flying high in the sky and doing witchy things with your friends, especially your friend, Nos, who you knew since that fateful day all those years ago.

"What are you doing behind that bush?"

The boy with pale skin and raven black hair looked at you with shock, fear, and surprise in his eyes.

"Come on, don't you want to play with the other children?"

The boy nodded and took your hand as you ran into the field to play with the village children. You put a flower crown on his head and held both his hands as you began to spin around.

"Nosferatu! Dracula! Demon and Creature of the Night! Everything you'll scream when they bite! Pure as snow! A virgin wearing a white wedding dress! Dye it red and rest in the forest! Be their bride in unholy matrimony!"

Your grandma walked up to you and said to say goodbye to the now-happy boy. You hugged him goodbye and skipped back to her cottage. When you got to her house, your grandma whispered in your ear.

"Nunca hables de los Nosferatus y sus novias. O de lo contrario desaparecerás en el bosque también."

"Bien, abuela."

That was fifteen years ago, and he's been your best friend ever since, even if you could never have adventures in the woods because you feared disappearing from the village.

"Nos, why do you insist on creeping behind me so much?" You ask, turning around to face a six foot three Nos.

"You shouldn't be walking out here so late at night. There are dangerous things in these woods," Nos says, putting his coat on your shoulders. "You should come back to my place and get warm."

"Sorry, grandma needs me to help with the pre-Christmas party," You reply, trying to move through the mud. "Did you hear about it supposedly snowing today?"

"Yes, I did, love. Are you going to start up about those girls going missing again?" Nos asks, walking side by side with you.

"How could I not?! It's supposed to be the first snowfall today, and not a single girl from the village has disappeared!" You exclaim, turning around to face Nos.

"Darling, those girls probably ran away from home. They found someone better in the world and left to explore it," Nos responds, taking you into his arms and dancing you around.

Snow begins to fall, and soon the roads become milky white. You made it to your grandma's house only to find she wasn't there. She had left on an emergency trip to Venice to help one of your cousins give birth. Your grandma had left a centuries-old family cookbook for you if you wished to cook something for dinner.

"It's snowing pretty heavy, darling. How about you stay at my place until it stops," Nos suggests, buttoning up the coat he put over you.

"That sounds fine, but what about you? Won't you be cold?" You ask, starting to shiver.

"I'll be fine. The cold doesn't affect me that much," Nos replies, taking the cookbook and carrying it in his bag. "Come, we can cook dinner and get warm by the fireplace."

You nod and follow his lead until he tries to enter the forest. The dark, snow-covered forest seemed to be staring back at you. Nothing made a sound, and nothing moved. You weren't sure if it was because of the snow absorbing the sound or because this forest was so terrifying that nobody dared enter it.

"It's ok. It's a shortcut to my manor. It's only a couple feet away, I promise," Nos promises, gently holding your hand. "If you feel safer, I'll hold you in my arms the whole time."

"Fine, but don't let me go," You whimper as Nos carries you like a princess.

Nos was known as a lady killer or a charming noble, depending on who you ask. Even though he only came into the village to meet you, he garnered attention from other girls. He got proposal after proposal but kept declining them. The girls eventually got over him, but the female elders couldn't help but notice how no boy or gentleman in the village would ask for your hand in marriage. Their husbands told them to pay no mind to it, but they stopped paying attention to you when predators acted like domesticated animals around them. Though others theorized you were the next Novia de Nosferatu.

"We're here! I'll get you some overnight clothes and make a fire. You can pick out a recipe if you want to," Nos says, handing you your family cookbook.

"I'll choose something yummy," You say, scurrying to the kitchen.

After fifteen minutes, Nos returned downstairs and saw you preparing to cook your family's calzone recipe. He wrapped his arms around your waist and asked if he could help.

"I'm fine, Nos. Why don't you get us something to drink?" You reply, putting the rolling pin away.

"Of course, darling. I'll be right back," Nos says, going to the cellar.

Dinner was ready, and Nos poured two glasses of wine. You brought the food to the table and began to eat with your friend.

"Sorry if the wine tastes bad. I know you're more accustomed to fruity alcoholic drinks," Nos comments, eating a piece of the calzone. "You're still not afraid of these woods, are you? My room has a pretty good view of the trees. It gets wonderful sun and moonlight as well."

"Don't you have a guest bedroom?" You ask, trying not to earn the title of village whore just for innocently sleeping with a guy.

"I'm afraid all the guest bedrooms are-oh fuck it. You've been the light of my life all the way into adulthood. Would you-would you please be mine?" Nos proposes, pulling out a box with a ring with a dark red gem.

The ring was silver with black markings going around it. It was something that only the richest of the rich could afford.

"Nos...of course I'll marry you!" You exclaim, kissing your now fiance.

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? It's not the alcohol talking, right?" Nos questions, pouring you another glass of wine.

"It's not the alcohol talking. Besides, based on things are for me in the village, it seems you're the only guy who would willingly marry me," You respond, drinking the second glass of wine until it's half full. "What type of wine did you give me? It tastes so metallic."

Nos moves closer to you, eventually capturing you in an embrace. You can feel his muscles twitch, and he kisses the crook of your neck. Nos slips the ring onto the middle finger on your right hand.

"I'm glad you wanted this as much as I did, my unholy bride," Nos whispers, his voice becoming raspy and hissing towards the words of unholy bride.

"Wha-"

You have no time to react before he bites you full force. Your ring extends a needle or blade into your skin and shoots something into you. You couldn't break out of his arms and felt nothing but pain. Your nerves felt like they were on fire, your body began to shiver, and your eyes felt like they were about to explode.

"Sh, sh, sh, it's ok. You'll get through the transformation soon. It’ll be nothing but pleasure from here on out, my love,” Nos comforts, gently stroking your head. “Once you drink my blood, the transformation will be complete, and we can be together forever.”

“Nos…Nosfer…Nosferatu!” You scream, rage and fear flowing through your blood.

“No! Call me Nos. I’m still your sweet, Nos. I’m your wonderful fiancé!” Panic is in his voice as he realizes he’s starting to lose you.

You yowl in pain, and with the newly formed claws, you swipe at Nos. He jumps away from you as you run toward the library. Everything was black and red. There was no other color present. You see a book on a desk and fiercely open it, only to find out some things are better left as secrets.

“The son of the chief of Verano made a deal with the blood devils. One maiden will be the sacrifice for us all and be the devil's future mother. A sacrifice made before the first snowfall, or else we will pay for it all,” You read the page making more anger surface. “This year’s Blood bride is Y/N. Please note that the heir has chosen to court her and then ask for her hand in marriage.”

“Darling, no! Don’t read that book! You’ll get confused!” Nos yells, grabbing your shoulder. “ Your body is tired from the transformation. You need to rest!"

"Don't touch me! I can't believe I was ever your friend! How long?! How long did you plan on doing this to me?!" You rage, tears falling down your cheeks.

"I only- thirteen. I knew you were my bride at thirteen and have courted you ever since. You wanted to stay friends, and I still wanted a relationship, so I abided by your wishes and drove suitors away from you. I didn't want you to find out who I was through force like the other brides of my family. I wanted it to be a nice experience for you." Nos holds you in his arms as your claws swipe at him drawing slow-moving blood. "We can still have a wedding with your family. I'll invite them, and they'll know you're ok."

"Do you know what you've done?! Everyone in the village thinks I'm cursed or a witch!" You scream, trying to get out of his arms. "I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

"NO! You don't hate me! It's the vampire venom talking! You love me! You love me just like you did before!" He growls, slamming you onto the brick wall. "Clearly, we need a little couples therapy until that is gone from your system."

He bites your neck, and pleasure goes into your veins. Your legs wrap around his, and your hips unconsciously grind on his crotch. Nos is too strong from drinking your blood to try pushing him away. You can only try to keep your body still as he drinks from you. Your vision goes dark, and you let out a small moan.

When you wake up, your vision is dark, and your naked body feels cramped. You push open the padded ceiling, and something metal moves as light hits your face. Red liquid falls on you from above, making everything but your face smell metallic. You crawl out of the coffin, trying to head towards the backdoor facing the woods. Nos grabs you and licks your cheek, making you shiver.

"I think this will bring us closer together, don't you?" Nos asks, removing his red robes and putting his naked body against yours. "I won't take your virginity until the wedding night unless you want to lose your virginity before then."

"I will never marry you!" You scream, trying to break away but can't due to the wet blood.

"Oh, I love it that you're still stubborn. Let me treat and clean you up, my love," Nos kisses as his hands go straight to your crotch and breast.

He sticks his fingers in you and rubs your nipple as he makes out with you. Nos looks at you, and his brown eyes become bright red.

"Focus on the sensations. In and out," Nos whispers, kissing the previous bitemark he gave you.

You felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't want to follow his orders. Soon enough, you were begging for him to finish you off. He took out his fingers from inside you after you orgasmed. He sucked on his fingers covered in your juices and blood. Then, began to lick the blood on your body. You tried tugging at his pants from below, but he swatted your hands away. Nos licked and kissed his way down to your crotch, where he found that you were bleeding. His face lit up, and you were too euphoric and full of lust to care what would happen next.

"It seems your body has decided that we must have our wedding now," Nos says, taking you into his arms so he can put you in a bath. "We're going to have one bloody hell of a wedding, darling."

#yandere male #male yandere #yandere vampire #yandere x reader #vampire smut #smut #f! reader #slow burn #vampire #yandere noncon #yandere dubcon

[kittyball23]

Soundproof (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: John Dory reveals that Rhonda is soundproof, and that little bit of information sits quite well with Poppy and Branch **Rated M**

A/N: 😏

__________________________________________

It was precisely three things that were serving as a distraction to Branch that night.

One was the incredibly delicious marshmallows in his hands, plopped into his mouth every few minutes so that he could experience its chewy, fluffy goodness in between the songs that he and his brothers were harmonizing to. Another was Poppy, sitting across him from the campfire alongside her sister Viva. Her deep, fuschia eyes - sparkling with the reflection of the crackling orange flames - remained trained to his blue whenever she spared a glance his way, letting him know by the intense gaze that there was something other than flames crackling between them.

Tension.

And it was one that was continuing to build as the evening progressed, all because of a small tidbit of information that was so graciously dumped upon them during the idle conversation among the group of friends. The information in itself being the third distraction.

Patience was not proving to be a virtue, however, and he and Poppy had to be pulled out of their dazed infatuation with one another several times - Viva nudging her sister with a giggle and Floyd nudging Branch wearing his own little smirk.

After what did feel like hours of happily enduring laughter, songs, stories and other shenanigans that could only ensue among siblings, the first yawn finally was emitted, coming out of Floyd. It in turn caused everybody else to realize just how tired they were, too. So when the other yawns and tired stretches followed suit to confirm it was true, Branch nearly felt like pulling his brother in for a hug. His favorite bro had come to his aid, even if he may not have known it! But while the fun between the seven friends had just concluded, the heated glint in Poppy’s eyes told him that their fun was just beginning.

Just as Branch’s thoughts began to wander somewhere ungentlemanly, John Dory’s loud voice broke through. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m bushed!” To demonstrate his point, he plopped down flat on his back upon his sleeping bag. “Guess it was pretty fun singing and roasting marshmallows after all, eh?” he chuckled after a moment.

Bruce hummed in agreement, munching on the last few in his possession. “Mmm-mmm! I gotta tell Brandy we should add these to the dessert menu,” he said, referring to his wife of whom he ran Vacay Island’s cantina with.

“Imma be the first one in line if you do that!” Clay exclaimed, exchanging a fist bump with the purple-haired Troll.

“Count me in on that, too!” Viva giggled. She too really loved marshmallows - her couch back in Putt Putt Village, in fact, was a marshmallow! And only now did it really occur to her to wonder how in the world she’d managed not to consume it for all those years living there. Shrugging it off, she turned to the gang with a large grin. “He’s right though,” she said, gesturing a thumb at John Dory. “This really was fun! I’d love for us to all hang again sometime!”

Floyd nodded his head, agreeing. “That would be nice.” He turned to Branch, seeking his younger bro’s opinion.

“Yeah,” the blue Troll responded, hoping he didn’t sound too breathless when he answered, his gaze still fixed on Poppy.

The Pop Queen, in a similar fashion, concurred with a little dazed “Uh-huh.”

Good nights were bid, sleeping bags unzipped, and wrappers to the Jumbo-sized marshmallow bags disposed of. As Branch went to go put out the campfire, he silently mouthed the words to Poppy that would let her know when they could get the ball rolling.

Five minutes.

He accompanied the words with hand gestures - one going forward, as though he were making the motion for the word “after,” and then another gesture tucking his hands under one side of his head, to make it look as though he were laying down to sleep. Poppy understood right away, confirming with a little wink and followed by a half-lidded gaze that made a tingle go down his spine. He tried to ignore it as he laid down in his sleeping bag, for the sake of surviving those next five minutes without her in his arms already, but found he couldn’t. Poppy’s effect was too strong, and the desires manifested themselves in delicious fantasies for what he ached to do with her. Fantasies of which would soon become a reality.

Branch lay until he was sure that he heard the sounds of heavy cadences of breathing and light, steady snoring. He waited an extra thirty seconds or so afterwards, just to be extra sure and, upon hearing no signs of activity, allowed himself to rise up and out of his sleeping bag, careful to take the utmost caution in not making any noise whatsoever.

Poppy, also having waited the allotted time, made to get out of her sleeping bag, too. In her haste to reach Branch’s side, she accidentally crunched on a dry leaf, the crinkling noise resounding around them. Both froze. With this number of Trolls snoozing in the vicinity, someone was bound to stir. And stir someone did.

Clay shifted in his bag, and Branch held his breath, fully expecting his older brother to blink his eyes open and catch the two of them sneaking off. But to his relief, the lime-green-haired Troll drowsily mumbled something about tax evasion and then snuggled back into his blanket. Poppy met her boyfriend’s eyes and scrunched her shoulders, a little blush tinting her cheeks and a quiet giggle escaping her. Branch rolled his eyes playfully, and simply extended his hand for her to take, a little smirk on his face. She squeezed it softly as he tugged them along, padding against the soft dirt floor underneath them to reach their destination. Once they got just outside of JD's beloved caterbus pet, he released from her grip, bringing his hand up to her face so he could pull her in for the kiss he'd been dying to share with her. Poppy obliged him willingly, parting her lips slightly to deepen it. He pulled away with some reluctance after several seconds, resting his forehead against hers. Branch’s voice was hushed and eager when he spoke, finally addressing that one point of crucial information in the earlier conversation that had been so easily glossed over by the others, even his brother - JD - himself, who had revealed it.

"Do you really think that Rhonda is completely soundproof?"

The question itself wasn't so crude, but for the purpose that he was asking it made his cheeks grow warm. He couldn't help but think back to the time when John Dory had made the very confident-sounding claim that Rhonda was waterproof, but it hadn't turned out to be so.

Poppy however didn't seem bothered, and snickered. "I mean, even if she isn't, I'm sure she'll make sure nobody bothers us. Won't you, girl?"

Branch gave a short gasp when he felt a rumble of a trill behind him in response, only coming to just realize that Rhonda had been awakened and was panting happily at the couple. She wagged her stumpy green tail, seeming to have understood what Poppy had said and more than willing to be of help.

Branch still looked a little bit uncertain, suddenly rethinking this little venture. Even with as much as he wanted this to happen, would it be wise?

"Poppy," he said, pausing to think of what he was going to point out to her first. That perhaps they shouldn't be partaking in these type of activities within a caterbus that was not theirs? With not one, nor two, or even three or four, but FIVE other Trolls who had the chance of waking up and catching them in the act? And what kind of mess would they leave behind on the bed? Branch couldn’t imagine the embarrassment that he would have to face if confronted by John Dory for anything that was leftover upon the sheets….

But Poppy was quick to already reply. And reply she did. "Brrranch…" His name was a teasing growl, the ‘r’ drawn arousingly as she opened Rhonda's side door, batted her lashes and gingerly stepped foot inside.

Branch sighed. That's it.

In a move that suddenly startled her, he swept in, hauling her up and off her feet and hoisting her in a bridal carry that had her doing her best to not squeal in surprise. As he toted her into the caterbus, he hoped Poppy wasn't prepared to sleep.

Because Branch sure wasn't.

__________________________________________

A loud, thumping in the night is what awakened him.

Floyd startled, a little groggy as he registered that it was still pitch black, the morning not broken through yet. He attempted to shut his eyes again and doze off, but a sudden rumbling in his stomach caught him off guard, letting the magenta-haired Troll know loud and clear that it was hungry.

One midnight snack will do, he thought. Or... whatever time it is. Floyd had no way of knowing in particular what hour it was. It could very well be past midnight, or just a few minutes before the crack of dawn. He went back and forth reasoning which of the two it could be as he made his light, tip-toeing steps towards Rhonda. JD had lots of goodies packed in his fridge and cabinets, so there was bound to be something to sedate him.

As his hand reached for the knob of Rhonda's door, prepared to turn, he stopped short at the sound of the thumping again, more pronounced. Floyd blinked. Was that coming from inside of the caterbus? He strained to listen, and heard a rapid creaking noise, as though springs were being pressed down upon over and over, accompanied with a long, drawn noise of some sort. A moan, he realized, the longer he had his ear perked to attention.

Wait a minute... He thought he recognized that voice. Was that… Poppy? Floyd blinked. Why? Had something happened to her? He glanced over to where the other Trolls had been sleeping, seeing for the first time that her sleeping bag was indeed empty...

...And so was Branch's.

Suddenly, the magenta Troll's brain began to put two and two together, the cogs shifting in his brain right as another thumping was heard, and a new moan that bore a resemblance to the name of his youngest bro resonated.

Something had happened to Poppy all right. But it wasn't anything bad.

It was…

They were...

“Oh!” he gasped. Floyd suddenly felt blood rush to his face, his appetite vanishing entirely and his stomach turning queasy. He hurriedly turned his heel, trying to dash as quickly as he could back to his sleeping bag before he had an accident, but failing as he tripped over one of his brothers.

"Ow," a drowsy mumble came from Bruce, and he began to sit up and rub his eyes at the disturbance. "Floyd? Dude, what's going on?"

Floyd waved his hands in a panic. "No! Bruce, go back to sleep. Please!"

"Huh?" Bruce cocked his head. "What are you talking abou - " His sentence was cut off by the sound of a shout, one that sounded an awful lot like their youngest brother. More thumping followed, and Bruce raised an eyebrow, clueless for a second, until realization dawned upon him. "Ohhhh," he said, cracking a smile once his thoughts were confirmed upon seeing the lack of Branch and Poppy in their respective sleeping bags. Rhonda affirmed it further, cutting her narrowed eyes at him as if daring him to try and intrude the private moment. So that's what they were up to. Bruce shook his head, fondly remembering a time when he and Brandy were younger, and would get up to their own share of frisky business. "Well, I'll tell you one thing for sure," he told Floyd, "If there was ever any doubt that Branch isn't a man, there certainly isn’t one now."

Two responses met the purple-haired Troll. One was another loud moan coming from the caterbus. The other was a groan of dismay from his magenta-haired brother.

"Didn't John Dory say she was soundproofed?" Floyd whimpered in mortification, pointing at Rhonda.

Bruce laughed. "Bro, Rhonda's not soundproof. JD just sleeps like a rock. See?" The brothers looked over at their eldest bro who indeed looked like a content stone just laying there. Un-rock-like though, he snored, drooling some from the side of his open mouth.

Of course, Floyd thought with a roll of his eyes. He cast a worried glance at Bruce. "Okay, but, um, what should we do? I'd love to go back to sleep, but not if I'm going to listen to… um… to…" He tried to think of the right word to describe what was happening without outright saying it, but found he didn't have to. He grimaced when Poppy cried out, making him shudder. "To that," he finished.

Bruce understood and patted a hand reassuringly on Floyd’s shoulder. "Not to worry, bro. I got you covered. Here, gimme your hand." Floyd extended his palm out, and Bruce reached into his hair, pulling out a couple of small objects.

Floyd was perplexed when he realized what it was. "Gumdrops?" he asked.

"Hey, I know they're delish, but they're also 100% soundproof, guaranteed."

Floyd narrowed his eyes, unable to help feeling skeptical. "You sure?"

Bruce nodded. "Yep! Trust me, I stuff them in my kids' ears every night right after they've gone to sleep, in case the wife and I ever get in the mood. So far, they haven't been disturbed a peep!"

Floyd felt his stomach lurch and then nodded. “Okay! Alright, I’ll take them.”

Bruce chuckled, putting his own gumdrops in his ears and snuggling back down. He dozed off once more, and Floyd soon after, the magenta-haired Troll relieved that true to his brother’s word, he heard nothing but the sound of silence.

__________________________________________

Poppy found the brilliant sun the following morning a perfect compliment to the equally sunny attitude she had. She stretched, recomposed herself, and took a great big whiff of the fresh air once she stepped out of Rhonda. Right as she began to replay the events of the previous night, she felt a pair of hands slink around her waist, belonging to the Troll she’d shared the wonderful experience with. She giggled a little as his caress lightly tickled her sides, and she turned to face him, bestowing a quick peck upon his lips.

“Morning,” he whispered.

“Morning,” she replied. She licked her lips with a little hum, noting the flavor he’d left behind on them. “I take it coffee's brewing?” she asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” he confirmed, tipping his messy-haired blue head back towards Rhonda. “Want a cup?”

“In a little bit,” she said. “Think I’m gonna stretch my legs out here a bit first. I’m, uh… still a bit sore.” She admitted it with a blush that made Branch chuckle.

“All right.” He better adjusted his leafy vest to conceal the purplish mark on the base of his neck, bruise-like in appearance if not for the indentations indicative of teeth, if one were to look closely enough - evidence of the Pop Queen’s handiwork, no doubt.

They exchanged another sweet peck, and then Poppy was off at her sister’s side in a couple of wobbly bounds.

“Wakey, wakey!” she chirped, shaking her shoulder.

Viva gave a short yawn and grinned when her sights set on her sister. “Hey, you!” she giggled, throwing her arms around her for a hug. Taking note of her messy pink hair and worried she’d tossed and turned through the night, Viva questioned her. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Poppy replied. Better than okay, actually, she added silently, remembering Branch’s arms around her and how expertly they’d handled her.

“Oh, good!” Viva breathed out. “Um, you do know your leg warmers are inside out, right?”

Poppy grinned sheepishly when she realized her sister was right. But she couldn’t help be disoriented, not after the way Branch made her so drunk on his love. She shrugged, grateful when Clay’s awakening interrupted them.

“Ah, man, I had the best dream ever!” he declared as he stretched, sitting up in his sleeping bag.

Viva rolled her eyes. “This isn’t the one where you’re drinking hot cocoa and finishing everyone’s taxes, is it?”

Clay raised a hand. “Guilty, and quite happy to be found so!” he laughed.

Viva chuckled and turned to her sister. “That’s Clay for ya!”

Poppy shook her head with a little grin and then spotted Floyd and Bruce. “Hey, guys!” she called. “Branch is at the caterbus brewing some coffee. Want some?”

Poppy then witnessed something peculiar. At the mention of their youngest bro, Floyd’s eyes widened and he exchanged a look with Bruce. The purple-haired Troll calmly replied for the two. “I’ll take a cup, Poppy, but I think Floyd’s gonna pass. He was a little sick last night, and he’s still not up to par just yet.”

Poppy’s eyebrows creased in worry. “Oh, no! Really?” She looked to the magenta-haired Troll for an answer.

“I’ll be fine,” Floyd squeaked, clearing his throat afterwards in hopes that nobody would question him further for his strange behavior. Attention was drawn from him when John Dory leapt upon his feet, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“Wassup, fam!” he cried, snapping his fingers. “I don’t know about you all, but I slept like a baby! A baby Branch that is.” He chuckled at his own joke, until the voice of his youngest brother stopped him.

“I thought I told you to refrain from calling me that!” Branch grumbled as he stepped towards them, sipping a cup of coffee.

“I was just playing, bro.” His expression then switched to a serious one. “For real though, dude, are you all right?”

Branch looked at him with confusion. “What’d you mean?”

John Dory exhaled. “Huh, I dunno if I was dreaming or something, but I coulda sworn I heard some screaming from you last night. And y’know, come to think of it, you too, Poppy!” JD scratched his head. “Were y’all having nightmares or something?”

In that instant, Poppy felt all the color rush to her face. Branch gagged midsip of the coffee he was drinking, and Floyd moaned, a hint of green tinting his face as he rushed into the bushes to heave what was in his stomach.

“NIghtmares!” Poppy laughed. “Nightmares he says!” She laughed until she felt herself grow light-headed, and then faint.

Not in much of a better state, Branch stood, frozen in shock and unresponsive to his surroundings, blue eyes open wide but unseeing.

“Uhhh… I feel like I missed something here,” JD said, puzzled.

Clay and Viva murmured their agreement as the former waved a hand in front of his little bro’s face and Viva fanned Poppy, who was still splayed on the ground.

“I didn’t,” Bruce mumbled.

JD’s head shot towards him. “What?”

“Nevermind,” the purple-haired Troll quickly said, plastering a nothing-is-wrong grin on his face. “Now, who wants gumdrops?”

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #dreamworks #broppy #branch trolls #poppy trolls #brozone #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #viva trolls #fanfiction #kittyball writes #grown up stuff fanfiction #100+

[skyward-floored]

The Lost Woods aren’t so bad.

Not after traversing them more times then Link can count, at least. Sure the paths shift, and monsters occasionally slip their way inside to hide in the bushes and trees, but Link knows the way to the clearing where he needs to go.

The forest only needs to let him.

His boots cut through soft grass, an occasional crunch belaying a leaf. The song of the woods is on the wind, and Link follows its winding tune, the pipes of water, strings and drums of leaves and branches. Quiet giggles make his ears twitch, but Link knows to ignore them.

He plays the game of the Woods, walking its paths, watching poes with a careful eye to see where they lead. The song dances by, high and low, loud and soft, and the flute that sometimes joins it makes his heart ache.

Time stretches strangely under the canopy of trees and fog— Link feels like he’s been here for hours now, but the glimpses of sunshine that peek through the branches are no different from how it was when he arrived. Link passes through another clearing, doubt beginning to nip at his heels. They’re not called the Lost Woods for no reason after all, and he’s starting to wonder if he hasn’t passed their test this time.

Is it because of what I’ve done since last I’ve been here?

But then something in the air, in him, clicks, eases, Link doesn’t know the word. But it’s like a fog lifts from his vision, and the path he needs to take is suddenly obvious. Link follows the pull past flowers and stones, over a barely-there path. It guides him through the yawning mouth of a log, and birds softly chirp as he emerges into a familiar clearing.

Fog drifts past his boots as he looks around, and a single shaft of sunlight breaks past the trees, drawing his vision to sparkling blue.

Link exhales, and steps forward, squirrels and other small creatures darting away into the bushes. He steps up onto the small stone platform, and doesn’t move for a long moment, looking at where the Master Sword sits with wisps of fog and sunlight dancing around her. Waiting for him.

“Hey old girl,” Link says softly, and for some reason his throat aches as he rests a hand on her hilt. “Been a while.”

The metal under his skin is both hot and cold, warmed by the sun’s light, and cooled by the stone it rests in. Despite years exposed to the elements, the Master Sword isn’t covered in greenery like it was the first time Link found her. Nor is her shine diminished in the slightest. Her blade is dimmed only because she rests, her power waiting for the next hero who needs her.

Who just happens to be Link again.

A shaking sigh escapes him, and Link puts both of his hands around her hilt, the electrifying hot-and-cold sharp-and-soft thrill of her power zipping through him as he pulls.

The Master Sword slips loose just like it did when he pulled her the first time, and Link raises her to the sky, the fog parting and fading away. The sunlight brightens somehow, making her sparkle and glow, and Link’s throat tightens again.

He hadn’t realized until now how badly he’d missed her.

Link lowers the blade again, running a hand over her cool steel as he studies her, looking over her finer points to familiarize himself with the weapon once again. Something is different, he realizes after a minute or two. And when it finally dawns on him what it is, he holds the Master Sword tighter, almost hugging her.

“I’ve grown,” he says quietly.

The blade fits his size now.

Instead of the still-pudgy hands of a child grasping at her hilt, there’s the worn hands of an adventurer ghosting along the metal, scars catching in her grooves. There’s blood staining his hands now that wasn’t there before, yet she still allowed him to pull her.

“You fit better, now,” he continues, voice shaking a little. “Hopefully this’ll... make things easier.”

His breath hitches, and Link swallows it back, clasping the sacred blade in his arms like one would an old friend.

He squeezes his eyes closed.

“I guess I thought I wouldn’t be doing this again,” Link whispers, ghosting his fingers along the gem in her hilt. “Not... not after the last one.”

Not after what I did.

The metal seems to warm just a hair, like the sunshine got pulled into it, and Link rests his head against the Master Sword, allowing a single drop of saltwater to trail down his cheek.

“Thanks,” he croaks, and the softest, faintest of chimes echoes in his heart.

It’s enough to pull him from the grief that was threatening to swallow him up again, and Link sets aside the weight of an island, and focuses instead on the weight of the sword, and his kingdom.

He’s needed. He can’t get lost in grief.

Link breathes out, running his hand along the steel one more time, and then he gently sheathes her, stepping down from the platform.

“Here we go again old girl,” he says as he steps outside of the clearing, weary with grief, but determined to stop the evil returning yet again.

He closes his eyes.

“One more time.”

A single pure note chimes in his chest, and Link feels something other than grief wrap itself around him, urging him forward to take another step, to press on despite the weight.

It feels a little bit like hope.

#had sudden intense feelings about Legend and the Master Sword #and if he was dumped into albw events very shortly after koholint (a mean headcanon I have) #cranked this out in under two hours last night when I couldn’t sleep #bon appetit #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu legend #linked universe legend #linked universe fic #lu fic #a link between worlds #but specifically pre lu #writing from the floor #if this feels like a vent fic no it doesn’t shhhh

[silvervioletvalentine]

🦋I love you and I like you🦋

Pairing: Lando Norris X Cherrie!

Word count : 9k

Summary: in which she’s a bitch, he’s a lover.

A/N. Also hi. I’ve never written for Lando before sooo this is like a little experiment I suppose. I’m thinking of writing one for Lance next? What do U guys think? Would you read a Lance one?? Lemme know xoxo

Charles was looking behind his teammate with a slight grimace taking over his designers as he let out a subtle sigh before glancing back over to Cherrie , who was sitting opposite him on the table while they are some lunch together like they often did before a race.

Pursing his lips to himself as he sent a silent pray to the bright blue sky above him that his friend would , for once in her life, at least try to play nice to the beaming man that was jogging their way with his eyes glued onto his target , the woman opposite him completely oblivious to how her peace was about to be disturbed.

"Cherrie. Please be nice." Charles blurted out to his teammate quickly and quietly , making her slowly lift her head from her container of food to give him a confused look at his sudden pleading.

Her eyebrows furrowing as she looked at a wide eyed Charles in mild concern , wondering why he looked so worried already . The last time she checked she had not done anything out of the ordinary that would lead to her needing to be told to be nice  again.

Had she somehow said something to Charles that now had him pleading for her to be nice all of a sudden? Was it that joke that she muttered about him being such a princess when he refused to eat a Apple If it wasn't cut into slices?

Her frown deepened , judgment clouding her face quickly. "Seriously Charles? I only called you a princess and you're now whining about it- get over yourself-" she started to scold him , not amused in the slightest.

It was no secret that Cherrie wasn't the most...open of people.

She liked her close knit group of friends that understood her blunt and slightly mean sense of humour. Who didn't her offended by her constant sarcasm and creative insults. Who laughed loudly when she called them bitches and motherfuckers, who weren't really fucking intimidated by her like everyone else seemed to be.

She really don't understand why people were so scared of her. Maybe it was the resting bitch face? Or maybe it was the way she always looked like she wanted to knock someone's teeth out if they got too close to her.

Or maybe it was the way that she refused to beat around the bush with people, preferring to be bluntly honest instead.

That was the way that she had been brought up.

You didn't get very far in life if you faked being a happy go lucky , smiley and 'best friends with everybody' person. She didn't have the time or the energy to play nice with people that she had absolutely no interest in. Why should she? That would be making a liar out of herself.

She was a bitch and she was proud of it. She took great pride in being able to scare away grown men that were twice her size with just one glare. It was a talent really , one that she utilised daily.

People wouldn't leave her alone if she was nice. But when she acted like a bit of a cunt, she got all the peace and quite that she craved in life.

It was amazing really. And she was proud of the way that she had mastered the way of telling someone to get fucked without even having to open her mouth.

Maybe it was kimi's fault. He had been her mentor and close family friend for years. And he had taught her to not give a single fuck about what anybody else thought of her . And taught her to do and say whatever the hell she wanted to.

So she did just that. And usually it worked well enough to keep people away from her. Most guys kept their little infatuations and crushes on her to themselves  , never getting too close and just admiring her from afar instead.

Well, Most of them. Except for one little, annoying , loud mouth driver who wasn't scared of her in the slightest. One that would not leave her alone , no matter how mean she tried to be to him. He was locked in and refused to give up on his endless pursuit for her affection.

He would have liked a kiss from her but so far all he could get from Cherrie was two middle fingers and a death glare. But it was a start. He wasn't giving up just yet.

Charles sighed "no! No! Not that." He lowered his voice as he leaned forward on the table to whisper to her . "He's coming over now. Play nice please." He warned her.

Cherrie scowled at him , chewing on her pasta boredly. "Who is?" She echoed in confusion.

Her teammate gave her a look "take a guess Cherrie. Which guy here is hopelessly in love with you and is also the only guy that isn't scared of you in the slightest?" He rose a brow at her pointedly.

Cherries face dropped in realisation just as a bright coloured, orange blur cane flying towards their table with a happy shout, dumping himself into the seated bench beside her with a grin.

Lando looked at her , saw her scowl and annoyed glare and laughed loudly . "Hey guys! How are you?" He greeted them happily , reaching for a tomato from cherries dinner without any hesitation.

Cherrie slapped his hand away with a low scoff , narrowing her eyes at the man beside her in Annoyance. "I was enjoying peacefully eating my dinner before you arrived." She muttered unhappily , refusing to look at him any longer and instead focusing back on her food again.

Fighting back a long sigh as she felt lando's eyes on the side of her face, unashamedly admiring her in the morning sunlight. His smile never dimming even when she was giving him the cold shoulder , as usual.

It was no secret to anybody that Lando was head over wheels in love with her. He had been since the very first moment he had met her over two years ago now when she got her contract with Ferrari. He was the first one to congratulate her and tell her that he couldn't wait to see her on the track.

Having been crushing on her long before she came to F1. He had followed her Instagram for years and liked every single picture she posted , always commenting a orange heart. Even on a picture of her tabby cat or a simple picture of her ocean view from her apartment, he engaged with every single post she made.

Cherrie had not been impressed by his schoolboy ways. She had came to race and win, not make friends . So she wasn't very interested in the way that he constantly flung himself at her without any shame , time and time again.

It was ridiculous and Cherrie didn't know why he was so taken by her, she had been nothing but a bitch to him from day one.

She tried insulting him. She tried ignoring him. She even told him bluntly that she didn't like him and that if he wanted to keep both of his legs then he needed to leave her alone and stop annoying her so much. But he just wouldn't give in.

Lando just smiled at her and tried another tactic. "You look really pretty today Cherrie. Have you done something different with your hair?" He complimented her sweetly .

Chin resting on his hand as he gazed at her with shiny eyes, ignoring the disgusted look that Charles was giving him as he tried to flirt with his teammate despite knowing fully well how she would react.

She side eyed him , unamused. "I just brushed it." She simply muttered before shoving a mouthful of pasta into her mouth so she didn't have to speak again.

Lando nodded his head along to her words "well, it looks amazing. I like the red. But I think you would look better in orange." He cheekily winked at her , laughing when she let out a loud sigh and finally faced him properly again.

She pursed her lips , face blank as she uttered. "I hate orange. It's not my colour."

Charles snorted behind the palm of his hand as he tried not to laugh as he watched her give Lando a hard time again. Feeling pity for the mclaren driver , but also not at all because Lando knew exactly what she was like, yet he still pursued her anyways.

Lando paused for a moment , trying to come up with a clever way to reply to that snarky answer and coming up short.

Instead he just chuckled and smiled at her in amusement "every colour is your colour Cherrie." Then he abruptly changed the subject , crossing his fingers for luck as he asked her hopefully "did you dump that footballer yet?"

Referring to the Spanish footballer that Cherrie had been seen hanging out with over the summer. The yacht pictures of the two of them practically jumping each other on the deck of the boat had crushed his heart a little.

But four weeks was long enough for his confidence and stubborn determination to come back to him in full swing , reminding himself that these flings that she constantly had with footballers and stars alike were always temporary.

Lando had never once seen her with the same man for longer than a month. She liked to keep her options open and never were they ever any feelings involved.

She just loved sex , that was all. And If all the other drivers could hookup with whoever they wanted and not get shamed for it then why couldn't she?

She wasn't ashamed of her little slut era that faded in and out depending where she was in the world. Spain, Italy and france had the most beautiful guys that she had ever seen in her life . And well, she was usually only there for a weekend so why not make the most of it and relax with a nice long marathon of sex with these Greek god type looking men?

She had no shame and enjoyed the way that the fans and press would go crazy whenever another picture of her with someone would make its way around the internet . She laughed at the comments calling her a whore who slept her way through each city , she laughed when they wondered if she was trying to shag every greatest  footballer there was.

Because well, they weren't wrong. She loved footballers . They had the best stamina's and really nice yachts. She was allowed her fun. And to her fun was delicious food, long naps in the sun and sex, sex and even more sex.

She was pretty, she was young and she intended to enjoy every minute of her life doing whatever the hell she wanted to do. She didn't want or need a man to tie her down. They were fun in the sheets, as long as they weren't her sheets in her own home.

Never once had she brought any of her famous flings home with her. Not one of them had met her family and never once had she ever told a man that she loved them. Because she didn't and she wasn't a liar who was going to throw words like that around just to soothe a mans ego.

No way. And maybe that was also why she was so determined to push Lando away. She was certain that it was just a phase that she was going through. He liked her because he couldn't have her and as soon as he did have her, she was certain that he would grow bored of her and move on.

She didn't want to risk her heart like that. When she did eventually fall in love , she wanted it to be real. She wanted to be a hundred percent sure that that he meant it before she ever gave in and let herself experience true love.

And well, Lando was all smiles and laughter. Silly jokes and ice pops in the sun. He couldn't be that serious about her , could he?

It had to be just a silly little crush that he had on her, it would fade away. It had to.

"Not that its any of your business . But I didn't need to dump him because we weren't even together." She finally answered him . Eyes on her phone as she replied to a few text messages from her friends back home .

Lando raised a brow at her curiously , eyes flickering briefly down to the phone in her hand as he wondered who she was texting . Definitely not him seeing as she refused to give him her number knowing fully well that he would never leave her alone if she did.

"But you were kissing him on that yacht.." he voiced his confusion , turning in his seat so that he was sitting sideways instead. Giving her his full attention.

Cherrie glanced over at him with a slight frown , lips tugging at the corners despite herself as she answered him bluntly. "I was fucking him for a couple of weeks but I got bored and came back home."

Charles snorted a laugh while lando flushed slightly , swallowing at the way she so casually talked about sex like that. Shifting in his seat uncomfortably at the thought of her and another man ... doing it.

Charles couldn't stop giggling as he looked over at his teammate in amusement . "Wow. Heartbreaker ." He teased her.

She just rolled  her eyes at him with a small smirk "no. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into. I made it very clear that it was just sex." She told him matter of factly.

Because despite being such a bitch, she never once led anyone on. She told them fair and square that it was always no strings attached. Just some casual fun when she needed to relax after a tough race.

"Is that deal just for footballers or-" Lando gave her a hopeful fluttering of his eyes , grinning at the way she immediate rolled her own eyes at him.

Something that she seemed to do often in his presence . He just wished that he could make her eyes roll to the back of her head in other ways instead.

She took a sip of her water and just looked at him for a moment , admiring the way his racing suit was tied loosely around his waist. A long sleeved  , white shirt clinging to his chest tightly making her clear her throat and glance away.

"It's for guys over six foot tall." She smirked , playing with the paper straw between her teeth. Watching his face drop from the corner of her eyes, while trying not to laugh.

Lando sighed loudly , frowning at her. "I could wear heels. Does that count?" He offered to her. Enjoying her snark for whatever  reason he did so.

Maybe he needed to see a therapist because why did he get so turned on when Cherrie was mean to him? Surely that couldn't be normal , right?

She snorted , laughing before she could even stop herself as she pictured cute little Lando running after her in heels all day long .

"No. It doesn't. I'm not interested in you at all Lando." She told him , hoping he would get the hint and move on.

He did not.

Instead he laid his head on his elbows that were resting on the table in front of him, eyes never leaving her pretty face as he admired the way her eyes seemed to be so bright under the sunlight. A few shades lighter then they usually appeared.

She was just so fucking beautiful that Lando had to remind himself to breathe properly.

"Why not? I'm amazing. I'd be a great boyfriend. I'd buy you flowers and take you on cute dates. I'd make you happy." He told her confidently . Not arrogant just stating the truth.

Charles chuckled, shaking his head as him in amusement . "So modest Lando. So subtle." He teased him.

Lando just shrugged and exclaimed "it's true!" Before looking back at a flustered Cherrie with a smile . "If you gave me -just one tiny- chance-"

She shook her head at him firmly "no. I don't want a boyfriend. Don't you think that If I wanted  one I would have gotten one by now? I have plenty of options available ." She reminded them .

Charles sighed in amusement , looking between the two of them with amused smirk on his lips. "Both of you are ridiculously cocky. Maybe you are made for each other." He stated.

Lando beamed at him happily "exactly! We could be perfect! We'd be the hottest couple around!"

He then looked back at Cherrie "and maybe- just maybe the reason why you don't keep these guys around is because you want something real.." he motioned towards himself proudly "like me."

Cherrie couldn't have groaned any louder if she tried. Huffing at him in annoyance. "I don't keep them around because I don't like them like that. Just like I don't like you like that either!" She snapped at him.

Lando frowned "but how do you know that if you never give me a chance? Girls think I'm cute as hell!" He exclaimed . Getting frustrated with her stubbornness.

She looked him straight in his eyes and agreed "yes, you're cute Lando." Seeing his hopeful and pleased smile , she quickly crushed his hopes again.

“But I don't date cute. I like sexy men. Not cute!"

He didn't give up at all, merely raising his brow at her and replying .

“Sexy is temporary. Cute is forever." He stated confidently .

Charles giggled as he looked between them, his own free entertainment . "That would be a great slogan for a tshirt." He said.

Lando nodded in agreement, snapping his fingers at him . "You're right! Write that down!" He told him before turning his attention back to the love of his life again.

Cherrie was looking at him in disbelief. Head in hands as she wondered what she had to do or say for him to drop this little crush of his on her.

How much more meaner did she have to be?!

She had a horrible feeling that she could smack him and he’d probably thank her for it.

"You always go 'awww look at that cute old man across the road!'" he mocked her girly voice as he spoke making her gasp , offended. "Never 'wow look at that sexy old man!' If you think I'm cute now just wait a couple more years. I'm going to be this cute forever." He told her with a grin.

Cherrie reached over and smacked his arm, hard. Lando whining as he slapped her arm back without any hesitation. Both of them slapping at each other like little kids .

"I don't sound like that!" She shouted at him. Going for his head now instead.

Getting him into a headlock while Lando just giggled hysterically, his hands coming up to clutch at her arms with a grin.

"Ooo I’m Cherrie and I like to break lando's heart-" he continued on with a high pitched girly voice , mocking her in-between his own laughter.

Meanwhile Charles had his phone in his hand, filling the two of them to send to their group chat for the rest of their friends to see.

They all had bets running on how long it would take for Cherrie to give in. Some of them said never , betting that Lando would never get a real chance with her. Daniel was the only one that betted that the two of them would be together before the end of the season.

As Charles looked at them messing on in front of him, catching glimpse of the smile that Cherrie was trying so hard to hide as Lando wiggled around in her Arms. Almost on her lap as he jokingly licked her arm making her squeal in disgust , yanking her arms away from his neck to hurriedly wipe his Slava away from her skin.

Charles wondered if perhaps Daniel might be right.

"I'm not breaking your heart Lando! Stop being so dramatic!" She scoffed at him with a huff.

Glaring down at him when he laid sideways on the table bench , laying his head on her lap and refusing to move as he grinned up at her mischievously .

"Oh really? Feel my poor heart then." He grabbed hold of her hand and placed it over his racing heart firmly . His eyes never leaving her own.

She just frowned at him "it's just beating fast idiot.

Not broken."

He laughed, hand over her own as he gently caressed her fingers with his own. Sighing happily "yeah. For you. It does that every time you're near me." He sappily told her.

Ignoring Charles fake gagging in the background as he focused all of his love sick attention on her pretty, flustered face above him.

"Gross." She inhaled sharply as he slowly slid her hand down from over his heart and down to his chest and stomach instead.

He was smirking as he pressed her fingers over his abs slowly , tensing them up so that she could feel them even more.

“Could be all yours Cher ." He whispered to her slyly . Grinning at the way her cheeks were slowly  turning as red as the car she drove.

She cleared her throat and quickly yanked her hand away from his, then she gave him a hard shove to his side that sent him flying off her lap and onto the floor below them Instead.

"Ow!" He yelped in shock as he laid flat on his back, looking up at her in betrayal . "Hey!"

Charles was laughing hysterically as he continued to film them. Cherrie just simply shrugging with a smirk as she looked down at him in amusement.

“my last boy toy had a eight pack ." Was all she muttered before getting up and throwing her Empty container in the bin.

Giving her teammate a casual nod "see you at the garage." She told him before walking away without a single look behind her.

Leaving Lando still laid like a starfish on the cold hard ground, the smile never leaving his face as he glanced up at Charles Stubbornly.

"She's the one. I'm telling you." He grinned.

Charles shook his head at him in disbelief "the one to what? Kill you?"

Lando sighed like a lovesick fool "she can kill me with her beauty. God.." he groaned in awe. "I love her."

Charles sent him a link for therapy later that night .

For some reason Cherrie didn't find herself very surprised when that very same weekend, at nearly two o'clock in the morning , there was a bunch of loud and insistent knocks at her hotel room door.

Quickly rolling herself out of her bed and grabbing a silk dressing gown to throw Over her shivering body, she hurried over to the door before they pissed someone off with their loudness.

Swinging open the door, she squinted as the light from the hallway shined into her tired eyes. Frowning slightly as she looked at the swaying, beaming face in front of her.

"Lando? What are you doing here?" She groaned out , exhausted and just wanting to go back to sleep.

But of course that was far too much to ask for and instead she was faced with a stubborn, drunk man child at her door.

Lando giggled as he looked at her bed head and pouty lips , sighing dramatically. "I can't wait for the day that I can wake up with you by my side looking like this." He waved his hand at her face a little too eagerly, almost slapping her .

Cherrie huffed at him as she grabbed ahold of his hand bedore he accidentally hurt her, looking down , unimpressed when he tried to  sneakily intertwine their fingers together. Swinging their now joint hands between them happily.

She glared at him in annoyance "why are you here?" She repeated her question firmly . Too tired for his bullshit. She either had to be drunk of filled up with coffee to handle him, and that was on a good day.

He just smiled at her , playing with her fingers as he swayed in his spot. Cherrie moving a tiny bit closer to him, ready to catch him if he fell. She did not want to be blamed if he accidentally fell over and ended up hurting himself in the process.

"I wanted to see you. I was at the club and this girl wouldn't leave me alone." He slurred to her , squeezing her fingers like a child to her her attention as she glanced up and down the hallway, wondering where his idiot friend was that had to have dropped him off  in this state at her door.

Her stomach turned uncomfortably as he mentioned a girl, pulling a face without even realising at as she looked at him with a frown. Getting more pissed off by the second.

"Okay?" She didn't know what else to say to that. She didn't want to hear about him with some girl. She just didn't.

She didn't know why and she didn't want to know why she felt uneasy at all. She had no right to be jealous. She was the one that had been rejecting Lando over and over again.

He had to move on from her sometime she supposed. So why the hell did it make her feel so sour? She didn't care. She fucked around almost every weekend with someone new. It was no big deal.

Lando, unaware of her little mental crisis , continued on obliviously. Nodding his head over and over again , looking at her with comically wide eyes.

"Yeah! I told her that I was in love with you but she just wasn't listening. So I had security remove her.” He whined to her . Almost falling onto the wall behind him as he lost his balance again.

Cherrie quickly lurched forward and grabbed his arm to stop him from falling onto the floor, sighing to herself as she carefully pulled him into her hotel room and shut the door behind them.

Leading him carefully over to her bed, crossing her arms over her chest once he had flung himself down onto the mattress  like a drunk starfish. Beaming up at her happily as he snuggled into one of her pillows with a content sigh.

"You're not in love with me Lando." She muttered uncomfortably. Stood at the end of the bed and fiddling with her fingers. Not knowing what to do or say at all.

She was usually the one that was drunk and rambling away, she was the one that was babied on after a night out with friends . She had never been the caring  or the responsible one before.

She didn't know how to handle Lando in general, never mind a drunk Lando who was apparently was just as infatuated with her drunk as he was sober.

Lando pouted up at her, eyes glossy and upset. The alcohol making him even more emotional than he usually was.

"Yes I do. Why don't you believe me?" He complained , frowning at her. Offended that she thought he was lying. "You make me happy and you make my heart sing-"

Cherrie cringed . Never one that could cope with feelings and sappiness. She couldn't even watch a romantic movie without leaving the room. All the lovey dovey bullshit gave her second hand embarrassment. She just couldn't take it.

She wasn't brought up to be emotional. Her family don't hug. Didn't talk about their feelings. Didn't tell each other 'I love you.'. The closest thing to love that she had felt from her father was a awkward pat on her back when she had told him that she had a contract with Ferrari. He said a firm 'well done.' Before excusing himself from the room. And that was okay. She knew that he was proud of her , she didn't need to hear him say it. It was fine.

Her friends had told her that she was emotionally constipated and afraid to be affectionate with anybody because she had never experienced it growing up. And well how could you crave something that you had never had before?

She had never even held hands with a man before. Sure , she slept with them and sucked their dick. But she never hugged them. Never held hands or said sweet words. It was only ever physical and she was okay with that.

Which was probably why she felt so clueless and uneasy around Lando . Because he wasn't afraid to be emotional with her . He told her how he felt without any shame. He always hugged her , sneaking up behind her to wrap his arms around her in a embrace before she could even think to threaten him away.

He told her she was beautiful every time he saw her even when she knew that she looked like a mess . He looked to her whenever he said some stupid joke just to see if she would laugh too .

He sent her flowers every time she won a race , and she won regularly . So she had a new boutique nearly every other week.

He asked her about her day, he asked her about her friends and family. He sent his coat to her hotel  room when he had found out that she had forgotten hers at home. He sent her care packages every month when she was on her period.

He wrote her little cheesy notes and printed out pictures and poems that he thought she might like. He bought every single piece of her merchandise that came out and proudly walked around the paddock wearing it. Telling anyone who would listen to buy it .

He did all these things for her and she didn't do anything for him in return. Not nearly as much.

Sure. She scolded his team principal after she had heard that he had upset Lando. He didn't know that she did that. Only the security man who had to drag her away did.

And sure, she sent him packages of strange things in stores that she had found that reminded her of him. She never signed her name. He didn't know it was her that sent them.

And sure . She paid for his birthday party at a fancy club, telling the owner to put everything on her tab even when she didn't attend the party herself. Sending him only a brief 'happy birthday' text that night. He didn't know that either.

And sure , she looked for him in every crowded room but only so that she could know where not to go to avoid him. That was the only reason why she looked for him and wondered where he was and what he was doing.

It was nothing. She felt nothing. She just- she didn't know anymore. She didn't get attached to people , definitely not to men. She didn't do relationships, she didn't do commitment .

She wasn't sweet and she wasn't kind. She didn't smile just because. She didn't coddle people, she didn't lie to make them happy. She didn't laugh at jokes that weren't funny. She wasn't girlfriend material at all.

She was blunt , mean and roughed up around the edges just like her father was. She had made more people cry than she had made them laugh.

People didn't come to her to hang out because they liked her . They didn't come to her for comfort, knowing that they would only get brutal honesty instead. She didn't even know how to comfort someone, other than awkward pats on their backs and a uncomfortable 'stop crying please.' She stayed away from anything emotional , it just wasn't her thing.

So why wasn't she kicking Lando out of her room and calling up one of his many friends to deal with his drunken ass instead?

Another question that she didn't want the answer to either.

She sighed and looked at him with a frown "don't say shit like that Lando. I don't like it." She muttered walking into the small kitchen to get him a bottle of water in hopes to try and sober him up.

He followed her with his eyes , huffing loudly . "You say you don't but you always smile when you look away!" He called over to her stubbornly.

She scowled at him , slamming the fridge door shut with more force than was necessary.

"It's a pity smile." She snapped as she walked back over to him. Throwing the bottle of water onto the pillow next to him, only just missing his head.

Lando grinned slyly at her , not budging. "No it isn't! Why can't you admit that deep down in your cold ice heart , you like me!" He accused her.

She gasped "I do not! You're not my type!" She denied quickly.

He rolled his eyes at her with a grin . "I think you're scared because I'm not like your usual type. You're usual type don't love you but I do. And you don't know how to deal with the fact that someone can actually love you like that. Love you for more than just casual sex." He rambled on. Picking up the water bottle and taking a big gulp , missing the way she froze up at the end of the bed.

Mouth opening and closing several times in denial , heart racing in her chest as she let his horrifyingly truthfully statement of her sink in. Hating that he knew her so well. Hating that he was right.

She shifted on her feet uncomfortably, glaring down at his smug little face angrily.

"You don't know what you're talking about Lando." She said instead . Looking away from his pretty eyes with a scowl.

She hated pretty boys with their horrible big cow eyes and even prettier smiles . She absolutely , fucking hated them. How dare he be so cute when she was trying to get rid of him?!

He snuggled into her covers with a smile, hazy eyes never leaving her despite the fact that his head was swimming and his vision was making him see double. Two cherries were just as good as one anyways. Twice the beauty. He thought drunkenly.

"I do! I do! And it makes you mad that I'm right!"

He giggled "I think you're amazing Cherrie." He told her sincerely . Slurred speech and all.

Cherrie felt her face soften , hesitantly glancing back over to him with a sigh. Shaking her head at him as she tried not to smile at his cute, arrogant  face.

"I think you're drunk and that you need to sleep this off before you say something you regret." She simply told him. Leaning over to pull off his trainers so that he could get into the bed properly.

He watched her look after him with a soft grin, cheeks flushed with both alcohol and love for the stubborn woman in front of him.

"I could never regret anything with you. I meant it Cherrie . I know you don't believe me but-" he hiccuped as he let her tuck him into the bed properly , pulling the covers up to his neck gently.

"I think your mean sense of humour is really funny. And I-i like your smile and your laugh. It's so pretty." He slurred to her , eyes fluttering tiredly as he tried to stay awake .

“And you're so smart and the best driver in the world. I was so jealous when you became Charles teammate instead of mine. And I'm always jealous of those guys that you kiss-"

Cherrie looked away flustered , swallowing thickly as she listened to him tiredly list of all the things he liked about her. She hadn’t known that there was even anything about herself to like.

"And you make me so nervous- but so happy too!" He grinned at her tiredly . Reaching his hand out for her to hold.

Wiggling his fingers pleadingly at her when she hesitated for too long before she gave in and gently took ahold of his hand, giving him palm a small squeeze. Smiling to herself without even realising it.

"Do you think- do you think that you'll give me a chance someday Cherrie? A real one?" He yawned, eyes already closed as he started to drift off into a alcohol fuelled sleep. His hand loosening in her own as she watched him fall asleep just like that.

As if he hadn’t just completely fucked with her head and make her question everything she had ever told herself.

Leaving her to sigh to herself quietly , conflicted as she let her eyes flutter across his peaceful face. Admiring his sunburned cheeks and long lashes and the poutiness of his lips as he dreamed away.

Maybe he was right, sexy was overrated anyways. He was cute, he always had been and always would be.

She carefully pulled her hand away from his with a small smile tugging at her lips, shaking her head to herself as she got up to sleep on the couch instead.

"Maybe I will ." She mumbled with a defeated frown. Giving him one last look in her bed before turning away and heading to the couch where she knew she wouldn't sleep a wink.

She has too much to think about now. Too much to reconsider as she wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake by brushing him off all these years. Too afraid that he would leave as soon as she gave into him.

But she realised then that he had stayed through it all, even when she denied him over and over again. He never gave up and never gave in.

He was the first to run to her after a race. The first to celebrate when she won. The first to ask her if she was okay. The first one to seek her out.  He was always there, through everything single thing.

He had stayed through her rejection. He had stayed even when she had another man. He had stayed through the arguments. Stayed through the ups and downs of the track.

He had stayed . Even when she tried to push him away. He never left her empty handed. He never passed her without a smile. Never didn't say hello, never left without a goodbye and promise to see her later.

He stayed and maybe it was time for her to start staying for him too.

The next weekend led to a disaster of a race for Lando who's engine gave up on him not even half way through the race .

Cherrie was walking beside Charles side by side as they got ready to head to the media pen now that the race was over , max had won , Lewis p2 and Cherrie p3.

She was feeling pretty  alright with her podium result but she couldn't help but feel bad for Lando as she watched the replay of the race to see how it had all gone downhill so quickly for him.

Watching him head over to where a few tires were piled up and sit down on them with his head in his hands, still not moving from his place even when the race was over. He ignored the marshals , ignored his team and his assiants that were trying to get him to come back.

Instead he waved them off and told them that he needed to be alone for a little while , his helmet still firmly over his head so that nobody could see him cry. Feeling completely defeated and more than upset , once again coming last and gathering no points for his team. It was hard and he was tired, his usual smile no here to be seen.

Cherrie felt Charles nudge her side repeatedly as they both glanced over at Lando, all on his own , with pity. Sighing sadly at the sight of him.

"Go talk to him." Charles advised her quietly once he noticed the worried glances that she kept giving him over her shoulder. Slowing down her walk as though she wasn't sure whether she could walk away from him or not.

Cherrie frowned at her teammate  "I don't think anything that I can say would help charles. I don't know how to make people feel better." She reminded him "I only make them feel worse." And it was true.

Last time she had tried to comfort someone, she had ended up making them cry even harder.

Charles rolled his eyes at how oblivious she was. "You don't even have to say anything. I think that you just being there for him would make him feel better. He always lightens up whenever you're around." He told her seriously .

Cherrie scoffed, not believing him in the slightest. Yet she couldn't help but glance over at Lando again, heart pinching in her chest as he still didn't move from his spot. Ignoring everyone  and everything around him.

"I don't think-" she tried to come up with some other excuse to why she shouldn't go. But Charles saw right through her facade .

He gave her a firm push in his direction "exactly. Don't think . Just go. He loves you Cherrie-" he gave a pointed look when she went to deny it "as much as you like to pretend that he doesn't. He does . And I know that you do too. So go and talk to him please."

She gave in with a defeated sigh. Giving her teammate one last unhappy glare before stomping over to the tires where Lando was sitting all on his own.

She sat down beside him carefully , not even looking at him. Instead she kept her gaze out to the track in front of them, now empty of their cars.

"Lando.." she hesitantly spoke up after a minute of silence between them.

“Please don't cry." She whispered to him pleadingly when she heard him sniffle.

He let out a watery laugh , shaking his helmet covered head. "I lost again. I'm out again. I'm never going to be champion Cherrie. I'm a fucking loser." He sniffled upset.

She did look at him then. Frowning deeply "don't say that! You're not a loser. You've just got a shitty car. It doesn't matter how good of a driver you are if your trying to win a race with a fucking tractor Lando!" She snapped at him.

More than Uncomfortable with him crying and no knowing what to do or say to make it better.

He looked over at her , sniffling loudly. "But-"

She groaned and turned to face him properly , leaning over to unlatch the clip underneath his chin so that she could pull his helmet off . Wanting to look him in the eyes as she spoke instead of a helmet where she couldn't see his reaction to her words.

She carefully pulled his helmet off and set it to the side while Lando hesitantly lifted off his balaclava , his eyes red and tearful. Nose pink and cheeks flushed from the heat and from crying.

"No buts! You're a incredible driver Lando with so much talent and so much potential! And you're only young , just like me! You're going to win one day okay? And it might not be today and it might not be the next race. But you will. I know you will because you're you." she struggled to find the right words to explain what she meant.

Not used to comforting people. She was usually the one doing the upsetting  , not the comforting.

She awkwardly patted his back, lips pursed together as she rapidly tried to think of ways to make him happy again. She couldn't stand the sad look on his face , she wanted him to smile. Not cry.

Lando wiped at his eyes with his sleeve , looking at Cherrie hopefully as he felt his heart lighten at her words. Knowing That she never lied about anything, that was one thing he could guarantee her to do.

"Really? You think so?" He sniffled while leaning into her touch as he shuffled closer to her side , wrapping his arm around her back slowly from behind as he leaned his side against her own  . Silently asking her for a hug.

He was expecting her to pull away but instead she only pulled him closer. Wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him into her side properly as he buried his face into her neck , his other hand falling down to her thigh so he didn't fall . Both of them still balancing on the tires that they were sitting on.

She gently ran her fingers through his hair , scratching at his scalp soothingly as she sighed.

"I do. Because I believe in you and I know that your time will come. And if it doesn't then I'll drag max off that podium myself and carry you up there instead. Alright?" She muttered to him firmly .

Leaning her cheek against the side of his head as he clung to her, feeling him smile against her skin at her words.

"You'll carry me? Like a bride?" He teased pulling his head away from the crook of her neck  so that he could look at her.

His mood all ready lightening up as he watched her roll her eyes at him playfully with a smile. His heart thudding hard in his chest as he gazed at her affectionately.

Heart swelling in his chest as he realised that despite the fact that she hated affection and that comforting people made her feel physically sick. She had come after him to make sure that he was okay.

She was holding him, she was consoling  him. She was smiling at him. Even though she was meant to be at the media pen after her own podium win, she had chosen him instead.

"Sure. I'm the stronger one out of the two of us anyways. So it's only right." She teased him back. Glad to see him smiling again.

Feeling her stomach flutter when he slowly placed his hand at the back of her neck. Cupping it in his hand gently as he looked down at her quietly in amazement.

"Usually when a man puts his hand around my neck. We're not sat on some old tires at the track." She whispered to him. Overwhelmed with the way he was looking at her .

He laughed softly and shook his head fondly at her , biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes were drawn down to her smile.

"God.." he breathed out , blushing. "Don't say that."

She smirked at him , amused by how flustered he was.

“Why not?" She wanted to know.

He looked her straight in the eyes and muttered "because it makes me want to experience what they did with you." Enjoying the way her breath hitched , pupils widening as she looked at him, startled by his confession.

She laughed a little nervously as he moved his face to be closer to her own, their noses brushing gently.

"What? The casual sex experience you mean?"

He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed as he breathed her in. Heart racing in his chest as he felt her cup his jaw in her hand softly , pulling him even closer to her .

"No." He denied with a soft smile.

"I want the boyfriend experience." He simply told her . Opening his eyes to see her reaction.

She just looked at him for a moment before frowning "that'd be a new experience seeing as I haven't done that before Lando." She reminded him. She didn't date. She fucked. End of. They meant nothing.

But as she looked into his shiny eyes and pretty smile , she knew that it was over. She wasn't a liar after all.

Her heart was racing. Her fingers trembling and all she wanted to do was kiss him. Wanted to make him happy .

She was in love wasn't she? For fucks sake. She really couldn’t catch a break!

Lando just laughed and shrugged his shoulders mischievously. "Then it'll be a experience for the both of us. Because I love you and I want you and I like you. So fucking much." He confessed to her without any shame.

His love for her came to him as easy as breathing did. She was it for him. He just knew she was.

And Cherrie. Cherrie just sighed long and hard in defeat. Nodding her head along in agreement as she watched his features light up with pure joy, his breath hitching in his throat as he stared at her with wide eyes, shocked at her casually agreeing.

"Yeah? You want that with me?" He needed to know. Didn't care how desperate he sounded .

He had loved her for a long time. Two summers now but he wanted them all.

She let out a soft laugh and leaned forward to  kiss him instead of answering . Cradling his jaw in the palm of her hand as she pulled him closer , breathing in his love as she finally gave into what was right. To what had been there, right in front of her the whole time just patiently waiting for his turn to shine.

Lando moaned against her mouth breathlessly  as she parted his lips with her tongue , tilting his head to the side as his cradled her cheeks between his fingers firmly. Thumbs stroking her sharp cheekbones , feeling them heat up beneath his touch.

Kissing her like he had dreamed of kissing her for so long now. He kissed her like she was the last person woman that he would ever kiss. And if he had his own way, she would be the first and last woman that he fell in love with.

She was it for him. He just knew it.

"You love me?" He panted against her lips , his fingers desperately clutching at every part of her that he could reach. Swallowing each sigh and each soft moan she gave him with his lips, he never wanted to let her go again.

She breathed out a laugh and whispered onto his tongue "I love you." Before letting out a loud giggle as Lando suddenly moved too quickly in excitement and fell backwards .

His arms flaying in panic as he gasped out her name loudly before his body fell into the hole of the tire that they had been sitting on , his body folding up with only his legs and head poking out for her to see.

She was giggling hysterically, clutching at the tires for support as tears of laughter ran down her face. Belly aching from love and giggles as she looked down at lando's blushing face , stuck in the tire as he gazed up at her with a sheepish grin.

"I'm stuck with this now huh you idiot ?!” Was all she said through her own laughter as she pulled out her phone to take a picture of him instead of helping him out.

Lando sighed loudly and simply nodded his head , flushed bright red as he smiled apologetically up at the love of his life who actually loved him too.

Despite being stuck in a tire, he had never felt more happier than he did then in that moment .

"Yeah. For the rest of your life I'm afraid." He told her with a grin. Unable to take his eyes off her.

She shook her head at him with a affectionate laugh.

Both of them unaware of a nosy Charles hurriedly  messaging the group chat as he announced that Daniel had won the bet. A multitude of disbelief and demands for proof coming through his phone . None of them believing that Lando had actually done it. Unable to believe that Cherrie had given in.

Charles just sent them a picture of lando stuck in a tire, Cherrie kneeling by his side as she leaned over the rubber tires to give him a kiss. Smiles clearly seen on both of their faces.

Pay up suckers. I win! Daniel replied smugly .

Charles just sent him the money through PayPal with a defeated sigh of his own.

Before glancing away from his teammate and Lando who were now full on making out , despite him being stuck in a tire. He quickly turned away before he could see anymore tongue, grimacing to himself at the sight.

Suddenly feeling sick as he wondered what the hell they had done.

If Lando  was obsessed with her before. How affectionate was he going to be in front of all of them with Cherrie now that he had her to himself?

Charles had a feeling that he was going to unwillingly see a lot more of their 'affections' now more than ever.

He crossed his fingers together and hoped that he wouldn't need therapy by the end of this season.

He couldn't believe that Daniel was right. Lando got the girl.

#lando Norris imagine #lando Norris oneshot #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 fic #f1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine

[generic-sonic-fan]

The post where I do vague cultural worldbuilding headcanons for Sonic characters??

Sonic and Knuckles are mountain man bros in the sense that they both grew up in the wild raised by animals. They dunk themselves in a river, call themselves clean, and then fistbump about it. They eat fruit right off bushes. Knuckles can find you a damn good tuber in a pinch and Sonic would be able to snatch you a worm if you really wanted it. Knuckles finds it difficult to pick up on mainstream cultural customs but Sonic's always found it easy now that he's older.

Tails and Amy, meanwhile, grew up in towns. These towns had a definite human influence, hence their possession of first and last names, but they still grew up in a Mobian in-group of sorts. They know proper fur/quill care, feel that it's gender non-conforming for a boy to wear clothes and a girl to go without them, and are adept at reading ear/tail gestures. Tails was never really one for any small-town slang but Amy still uses more rural phrasing even now that she lives in a larger city.

Rouge grew up in a large city, so she's more well-versed in cultures other than her own. She's adopted some human rituals because she thinks they're fun, like face masks and shaving some of her body fur. She loves exploring human cuisines because they're "exotic" to her while Mobian cuisine are comfort foods. She's fluent in several different kinds of slang along with the gestures/manners of the different cultures.

Shadow was raised by humans. His mannerisms are unmistakably human. From wearing human-sized shirts around the house, to having a taste for "human" comfort foods, to being completely unable to read ear/tail gestures in conversation, any Mobian is able to peg him as an outsider pretty quickly. While he's absolutely embraced proper quill care, Rouge had to first point out to him that he was doing it wrong- using human shampoo is not going to cut it, hun.

Omega is. . . weird. For the most part, he's predictably alien: what few social customs he's bothered to learn he has to have observed first. Rouge has been a helpful educator on the rare occasion he gives a shit, usually in regards to slang translation to add to his dictionary. He's almost more like Knuckles in the sense that he was isolated and now he's playing catchup. Sometimes, sometimes, though, the assumptions Omega makes will lean more towards human biases. Anyone who values their life knows not to ever point that out to him.

Metal Sonic reads like a robot imitating a human imitating a Mobian. Yes, he can imitate Sonic's gestures, but it's the movement in between that's uncanny. The physicality of his limbs. The weight of each step in his out-of-combat walk cycle. It screams "human". Most of his cultural knowledge, the little that he has, comes from observing Eggman's daily routine. But Eggman is just one human, and an isolated and eccentric one at that. Metal Sonic could recognize a refrigerator but not a washing machine, could recognize a plate and fork but not any other kitchen cookware. His knowledge is piecemeal. His imitations are incomplete. He was designed for combat, nothing more. His unconscious attempts to fill in the gaps are illogical, aren't they?

Silver is permanently locked into a culture called "survival mode". That's a joke, but only mostly. His behaviors more closely match that of someone growing up in extreme poverty. He can't stand to throw stuff away and he has a hypervigilance about danger that someone who grew up in a "bad neighborhood" would understand. Not to mention that any cultural values he has learned are a few hundred years out of date, so his guesses at any customs tend to be slightly off.

Blaze is from a different dimension, which basically reads as just a different culture than the one that's prominent where most of Sonic's friends reside! She actually gets a kick out of sharing her customs and comparing them to everyone else's. She's also from an extremely privileged walk of life, though, and it definitely shows no matter how much research she does to try and be less ignorant about how "normal" life works.

#feel free to add other characters in the reblogs!! #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e-123 omega #silver the hedgehog #blaze the cat #MAN that's a lotta tags! group post!! #please feel free to ask me about any one of these they're so fascinating to me

[the-kr8tor]

Thread the needle

Thread the Needle Masterlist

Prologue >>> Chapter 1

God, you're so late for class. Your white sneakers squeak against the linoleum floor, feet running as fast as you can. Your hastily thrown backpack struggles to cling on to your arm. You regret going out last night, on a school night too.

Almost running past the classroom, your feet skid to a stop in front of the door. Taking a breather you take a second to fix your appearance, fixing your backpack properly, breathing out a puff of air, you mentally ready for the weird stares thrown your way once you open the door.

You open the door with a loud creek from the old hinges, cursing the metal for the loud intrusion. Grimacing from the sound, your eyes roam around the room, surprised to see that the professor's late too. You sigh in relief, sitting down in your station, you decide to clean up the mess that you left yesterday in haste.

While picking up loose threads, misshapen cloths and cluttered tools littered around your space, you accidentally listen in on a conversation.

"Did you hear? About our last project?"

"Yeah, I have a friend from the other class, heard it's a doozy. Can't believe Mrs. Williams' making it forty percent of our final grade "

Unbelievable, you thought. And here you go thinking that taking fashion as your major was gonna be easy. You sigh, pondering what kind of next stress is gonna befall you.

Suddenly the door opens with a loud creaking sound– your ever fashionable professor saunters in, clad in her stiletto heels, posture perfect and neck always covered in pearls. God, you want to be her when you grow up.

She stands tall in front of the whiteboard.

"Since this is your last two months here, I'm gonna make this last project the biggest and hardest one you've ever done," she doesn't beat around the bush, going straight to the point, speaking in her posh accent, making elegant gestures as she talks, "This final project will be sixty percent of your final grade, therefore if you fail this you might not graduate this year"

Various sounds of protests can be heard around the room, some groaning in pain, others straight up scream in anguish, but you just look at Mrs. Williams like she grew a second head.

Sixty percent?! This close to graduation? Does she not want anybody to graduate? You think, biting your tongue just in case it slips out.

"You've gotta be joking Mrs. W!" A classmate of yours shares your sentiment.

"Do I look like I'm someone who makes jokes, Flash?" The professor raises a neat eyebrow, side eyeing your classmate.

Fuckety, fuck fuck. You internally swear. This is so much worse than forty percent. Outside you might look calm but inside you feel like spontaneously combusting right there on your chair.

Mrs. Williams stares at her class silently. The entire room feeling the dark aura she exudes, they all clam up immediately.

"The project - find someone, I do not care if you're already close, or you're strangers to each other. Just someone who's willing to model for you-"

"For the record everyone, I'm available" Flash interrupts the professor, with one look from her, he sits back down defeated and embarrassed.

"This project requires you to make an outfit," she continues, staring daggers at your classmate "not just any other piece you have ever made. You have to cooperate with your model, in creating it."

That's easy enough you thought, you've already worked with models before, like changing some aspects of the clothing to match their sizes, and changing some designs if they're not comfortable wearing it.

Mrs. Williams raises her index finger, "This outfit, it has to encompass the both of you, so it's a requirement, a necessity, to pick a model that has an entirely different style from you"

Different style? Your mind goes to him immediately, with his heavy leather boots, spiked accessories, and overall Punk aesthetic, compared to your fluffy cardigans, sneakers and plain button ups. He's perfect for this project. The only problem is how in the world are you gonna convince THE Hobie Brown, your best friend of ten years, to model in front of the entire graduating class.

Mrs. Williams' voice brings you back to the present. "They, whoever you pick, must be willing to fully participate in making, and modeling it. They don't even have to be a student here, all that matters is that the final product must be a perfect blend of both yours and their style"

Flash raises his hand this time "How would you know that they have a different style from us?"

"Next meeting you must bring them, and" she emphasizes the last word "a picture of them with a timestamp from a year or two ago, this prevents cheating. And if I ever find out that you edited the photo's timestamp, don't even think about graduating"

"Um, ma'am, when are we presenting it?" A brave classmate of yours raises their hand.

"You have a month to work on it, the show will be three weeks before graduation, if you'll even be qualified for it"

You swallow down your anxiety at her last comment. Bringing Hobie in class will be a bitch and a half itself. You're already thinking about how to convince him.

"And remember this project fosters teamwork and cooperation with each other. Do not forget it has to be a perfect blend, not some smorgasbord of an outfit." The professor adds.

Great, now armed with the great task of convincing Hobie, you think, if he still owes you a favour, maybe you can call it in for this.

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #thread the needle #thread the needle series #thread the needle Prologue #spider punk #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Jason Holding Your Hand While You Struggle To Walk Beside Him

Jason Voorhees X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, abuse, bodily injuries

Word Count: 940

(A/N:) Happy Friday the 13th sick things! I'm here to bring your boy Jason as a favor to my friend! She loves the franchise and this masked slasher! Guess he's her equivalent to my Michael Myers. I had to write something for her and I really wanted to post it today because duh! So hopefully this will make the other Jason Voorhees fangirls happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Your parents had forced you into being a camp counselor at the newly reopened Camp Crystal Lake. Despite your protests at having to spend summer with cruel students you went to school with, you were shipped off and left to fend for yourself. It didn't take long until the horrible things that they did to you during the school year began to happen at the camp. It didn't matter how many times you told the overseers of the camp, your dilemmas fell on deaf ears. Two days into your camp stay and you escaped to your cabin and refused to come out. You locked the door, letting the pleas of the staff go ignored. Thankfully your mother had packed you snacks, so you had no reason to leave.

That second night you had been holed up everything changed. You had fallen asleep, the sounds of night bugs filling the silence until a scream pierced the air. You jolted awake, a shiver going down your spine. Several moments passed as you tried to steady your breathing, your mind chalking it up to the others trying to get you to come out of your cabin. Laying back down you tried to go back again, when another scream froze your blood. You could hear thundering footsteps as the door to your cabin began to shake. One of the counselors beat upon the door, pleading for you to let them in.

"Haven't you tortured me enough," you shouted pulling your blankets over your head. "Go prank someone else!"

Another scream as a machete pierced through the wood of your cabin door and blood splattered across the frosted glass. You choked back a scream, trying to keep as quiet as possible, praying that whoever on the other side would go away. No such luck as the door shattered letting in the attacker. You shook violently at the giant of a man standing before you. Your eye had been blackened from your fellow counselors throwing rocks at you and the palms of your hands had scabbed over where they had tripped you on the gravel.

"Please," you whimpered. "Don't hurt me."

Though he didn't treat you the same as the now dead girl on the ground in front of your cabin, he didn't just leave you alone. You found yourself walking beside the tall killer through the camp that now was stained with the blood of his victims. Your legs felt like jello as you tried to think of some way to get away. He put a hand at the small of your back, trying to be careful of your bruises. No one had treated you so gently but you really didn't want to go into the woods. He was adamant as he pushed you further. How he could see you didn't know as the moon was hidden by the dense foliage of the trees and small bushes. Sticks cracked under your bare feet and despite his large size he stalked through the darkness in absolute silence. You tripped over roots, sticks snagging on your hair, and thorns scratching up your already battered face. He patiently waited for you to catch up, never letting you fall too far behind. The further in the woods you got, the more exhausted you became until every step you took you were tripping. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face and the terror was beginning to swallow you.

The adrenaline you had before was keeping you going, but now that wore out and you were exhausted. You watched the large man disappear in a thick brush. Letting out a relieved breath you hoped that your luck was finally beginning to change. That didn't last long as he returned not seconds later. Seeing you on the ground he slipped the rusted bloodstained machete under his belt and holding out a scarred and bloody hand. You reclined away from his hand. He grunted wiping his hand on his stained pants before reaching out again. He wasn't going to leave so you gave in, placing your much smaller hand in his large palm. He pulled you upwards, getting you back steady on your feet before starting forward again. A few steps in and you noticed that he hadn't released your hand. It was much easier to walk and keep up with him as long as he held your hand tightly. The coolness of his skin against your warmth was a pleasant contrast it had you shivering.

You lost track of the time and how long you had been walking before exhaustion once again nipped at your heels. Despite him leading you, you were beginning to falter once again.

"I'm tired," you mumbled.

Wordlessly and in one motion you were lifted and held in this stranger's arms. He carried you tenderly making sure no branches snagged in your hair or struck your face. He seemed tireless as he pressed forward. Though he hadn't said a word or made any sort of motions to harm you, it had been the nicest you'd ever been treated. The horrors at the camp, not just from his killing spree, seemed to melt away as exhaustion overtook your body. You fell asleep in his arms as he kept walking forward with a purpose. Thoughts of what everyone would think with you missing was at the back of your mind until you were swallowed by sleep. You couldn't bring yourself to worry as you finally felt safe at last, you melted into his embrace and let yourself be carried away. The unknown before you vast and uncharted, but maybe it would be better. Time would only tell.

#Jason Voorhees X Reader #Jason Voorhees / Reader #Jason Voorhees #Friday The 13th #Jason Voorhees Imagine #Friday The 13th Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

[undreaming-fanfiction]

This is a very belated birthday drabble for the wonderful @unclewaynemunson, your Pat a Mat AU is ready, Anna! I hope you enjoy the ridiculousness just as much as I have.

One would think that once all of the Upside Down bullshit is done, Vecna buried, all of them alive, healed and with enough hush money from the government to last a lifetime, that Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler would settle down, find some quiet comfort in their potential careers and each other. There would be pleasant dinners, quiet conversations and peace they haven't known for a while.

One would think that. But that one wouldn't probably be familiar with their romantic partners, Eddie Munson and Robin Buckley.

See, Steve and Nancy come from picture perfect households. Eddie and Robin don't. So where Steve and Nancy have a certain sense of what should be done and how it should be done, Eddie and Robin have a) enthusiasm, b) creativity, and c) terrifying amounts of energy.

Which is probably why Steve and Nancy are here, sitting on a picnic blanket with a bottle of wine between them and two first aid kits ready. They are watching Robin and Eddie who took to gardening and are now doing their absolute best to uplift their garden to new aesthetic heights.

That's a lie. This isn't gardening, this is an Indiana plant massacre with garden shears.

"So now you cut off the top and it will bear the perfect resemblance to our beloved dingus!" announces Robin and slices off way too much of the bush. The poor thing looks almost dead.

Nancy leans towards Steve and whisper-asks why the two decided to create a bush statue of Steve between the two gates leading to their houses, but Steve doesn't have an answer. He just downs his glass of wine and watches the tragedy unfold.

It's always like this. Robin and Eddie come up with a home improvement project, get very creative and then Nancy drives them to the hospital while Steve and Wayne clean up their mess. It's lucky Nancy and Steve love them do much.

When a new half-secluded neighborhood was built in Hawkins, the four of them thought it was perfect. Two small and adjacent houses, two gardens that they could connect by tearing down the fence. No one to judge them for being in same-sex relationships, no one to stare into their windows. The expectation was that Steve would spend lots of time with Robin, the two taking turns using their single shared brain cell, but instead, they got...this.

In the last year, Eddie and Robin's project list included, but wasn't limited to:

A theoretically wonderful invention of an alarm clock that would open the window once it started ringing, letting in fresh air and sunlight. Nancy and Steve weren't sure how it was supposed to work, the two inventors kept their progress a secret, but they saw the results, a broken window, a wall clock the size of the ones found in a train station, three broken broom handles and a ball of tangled wire.

An automated lawn mower. That one nearly worked. Nearly. Eddie tied the mower to a stake in the ground and Robin taped the starter so it moved on its own - a bit too well. The stake was no match for the mighty mowster (coined by Eddie) and the four of them ended up chasing the runaway machine throughout their street.

An effortless pancake flipper. It didn't matter how many times Steve repeated that he doesn't mind cooking, likes it in fact, Eddie wanted his boyfriend to be able to get comfortable and to sleep in because his Stevie deserved all the comfort and perfection he could get. Steve only learned about this experiment when he came home to a pan tied to a drill, spinning and splashing batter everywhere. Robin and Eddie were blindly walking around the kitchen walls, batter in their eyes and muttered reassurances that the pancake menace would have to run out of batter. Eventually.

Back to the present and half bottle of wine in, Eddie and Robin finally understand that no matter how much they cut, they're not getting Steve's likeness out of the suffering bush. Nancy and Steve exchange a well-practiced look, sensing a dip in the manic energy of their beloved partners. They slowly lure them in, Steve with cold beer and Nancy with a fancy cocktail that Steve pre-mixed. Among cut branches, dead leaves and quiet that wasn't fooling anyone, Nancy kisses Robin's cheek and says she's really sorry their plan didn't work out.

"Oh don't worry, Nance," Robin smiles and there's something unsettling about the look she shoots at Eddie. "We have a plan B."

The next morning, Wayne visits them and is stopped in his tracks by a...thing. Probably...originally, once upon a time, it must have been a bush. The bush now looks like all of Indiana's herbivores stopped by and munched it into an approximately human-like shape. Not very distinct, but there's no room for questioning as there's a huge Steve head with a Scoops Ahoy hat taped over the upper part of the bush.

Half a year ago, Wayne would have been concerned. Now he's just mildly amused.

He makes his way to the Munson-Harrington house and gets a cup of coffee from Steve while Eddie's gentle snoring echoes from the bedroom. "So..." he says, "No loss of blood or limbs this time?"

And Steve, bless his heart, only snorts and pours himself the rest of the kettle. "That's what makes the thing outside almost bearable. It's so ugly but they were so happy when they managed to get the tape right, I just...I can't take it down."

Wayne nods, sipping from his mug. He too would do almost anything to keep his nephew happy.

But if he happens to accidentally knock into the bush, entangle himself in the tape and has to destroy the Steve Bushington in the process...it's definitely just an accident.

#fruity four #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie drabble #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance #ronance drabble #stranger things #stranger things drabble