#oh boy it's been a while huh

[spinetrick]

hello i'm alive, i watched s4, i will probably draw some stuff in the next few days. gonna be using the tag 'solar opposites spoilers' and 'solar opposites season 4', this is your advance warning if you want to block those for spoilers

#not art #oh boy it's been a while huh

[iverna]

Given The Choice (32/?)

... in which Emma adapts to life among smugglers, Regina struggles with life among outlaws, and Killian shares a bit more of his past.

~ 10,100 words | read on ao3

Post-Neverland AU where Pan did not escape Pandora’s Box and Emma tries to come to grips with her strange new life featuring pirates,  parents, and flying monkeys. Catch up here, or on ao3!

Note: due to recent Jason-related events in the fandom, I’ve changed the quartermaster’s name to Wesley Carswell - same guy, different name!

Blackbeard’s attack has had one positive side effect: Killian has proven himself to Ria and the crew, and the lingering tension on the ship has dissipated. Wesley Carswell no longer looks uncomfortable when Emma wanders up on deck, in fact he always has a smile and a teasing comment for her now, and Killian is no longer doing grunt work. He’s often in the company of one or more of the crew or conferring with Ria, sharing experiences. Emma wonders whether he realises how easily he slips into the role of advisor. He did the same in Neverland.

The only problem is that with the new camaraderie come questions. Such as how a lady from the royal court knows so much about sailing.

Lynch is the one who asks, when some of the crew shares a late lunch on deck the day after the attack. From his smile, his interest is entirely benign, but the question catches Emma off-guard. “It’s hardly part of a lady’s education, is it?”

“I—well,” she says, trying not to look flustered, “you know, I actually had a pretty good education…”

Killian laughs. “I don’t think you can count that as education, milady.” All eyes turn to him, and he goes on, “Her husband was an officer in the Royal Navy.”

Emma breathes a small sigh of relief. That sounds good. She vaguely remembers watching a Jane Austen movie once where the guy was a naval officer. An officer and a lady-in-waiting, that makes sense… right?

Janssen’s wife, a tall, no-nonsense woman named Inga, raises her brows. “A Navy man? How’d you end up here?”

With Hook and a band of outlaws, is what she means. Emma shrugs with a smile, back on balance now. “Long story.”

“Was an officer?” Carswell asks.

“Yeah, he, uh, retired,” Emma said. “After he married me. He didn’t want to be away at sea all the time.”

Inga smiles. “And now, here you are. You must miss him.”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling back and carefully not looking at Killian. “Yeah, I miss my whole family.”

“We’ll get you back there soon enough,” Lynch assures her.

“And I hope your husband appreciates it,” Carswell puts in, mock-stern. “And doesn’t send the Navy after us.”

Emma laughs, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t.”

“He’s far too besotted,” Killian puts in. “All he’ll care about is having his beloved wife back.”

She just about manages to hold back the dirty look she wants to throw at him. He’s enjoying this far too much. They need to get off this subject, not keep going on about the non-existent feelings of her non-existent husband.

It doesn’t help that he never looks better than when his eyes are sparkling like that, and she’s been thinking about him far too much lately, instead of thinking of something useful. Like her non-existent husband.

“What was his name again?” Inga asks.

Emma feels her heart trip, and casts around for a name while she says, “Sorry, what?”

“Your husband,” Inga repeats. “What did you say his name was?”

Emma didn’t give a name. She really should have thought of one. She has pretended to be married more than once in her career, but her usual go-to name is Justin. That doesn’t seem very… fairytale.

“Oh. Uh, William. Will.” She almost winces as she says it. This is Henry’s fault, with his talk about Keira Knightley and Pirates of the Caribbean. And she’s blaming Killian, too, for throwing her off her game.

“What’s he like?”

“Oh.” This should be easier; her fake husband is a fairly solid person in her mind. Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, devoted or distant depending on the situation, likes dogs and hiking and cuddles on the sofa. The kind of man you marry.

General “you”. Not Emma specifically. Emma specifically finds him a bit boring, which is exactly the point, because it makes him versatile and relatable.

“He’s great,” she says, trying to get into the mindset of a married woman who loves her husband, and struggling for words. “Kind, and… dependable.”

She makes the mistake of glancing over at Ria, then, to find the other woman watching her with a thoughtful look in her eyes. Emma doesn’t let her own gaze linger, but keeps looking around as if unconcerned even as she fights back her chagrin. She isn’t selling this. How the hell do people describe their partner?

“He’s a good man. A good father. Like I said, he retired so he could be there for us.”

“If that isn’t love,” Killian puts in lightly, jokingly. “Giving up the sea in favour of a life at court.”

He says the last word with a dramatic grimace. There’s a round of rueful chuckles, most of the crew shaking their heads as if they would never do such a thing. Emma thinks of the Jolly Roger, and swallows hard.

God, she needs to get them off this subject. “Yeah,” she says, looking at Inga and Janssen again. “Speaking of which, how about you two? How’d you meet?”

It’s the right question to ask. It turns out to be quite the story, which Inga and Janssen are happy to tell, amid the heckling and joking of the crew.

Emma breathes a very careful sigh of relief, and settles in to listen.

 *  *  *

 Killian, naturally, doesn’t let it go. When the others are back at work, he wanders over to her, purposely casual. “So, tell me,” he asks in a low voice, a glint in his eye. “Who is William?”

Emma narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t start. You enjoyed that way too much.”

He doesn’t look the least bit contrite. “Guilty as charged. I’m just curious why you chose that name.”

“A character in a movie,” she says, giving in. “Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s—anyway, one of the characters is called William. Will.”

“A movie… a story about pirates?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” She can feel herself getting defensive—she doesn’t usually rely on movies for her cover stories, and it definitely won’t do for Killian to start thinking she just has pirates on the brain. “Henry loves it, and he’s been quoting it, and it was the first name that came to mind.”

“Ah.” He gives another short chuckle. “It was my brother’s name, too.”

She feels her eyes widen. “What?”

“Liam,” he says. “Short for William.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t quite know what to say. “I didn’t know that.”

“Aye.” He looks at her more closely then, and seems to note the sudden loss for words, the odd tension. He grins, just a little too brightly. “A good thing you didn’t marry him.”

She thinks she knows the answer, but she asks anyway. “Why?”

But he doesn’t say anything about wanting her for himself. “Because he was stubborn and overbearing. You’d have thrown him out inside a week.”

A surprised laugh escapes her. “Yeah? Was he that bad?

He makes a face, but his expression has lost that exaggerated brightness, more comfortable again. “Aye. The worst. Though I suppose it served him well, to keep me in line.”

She lets her eyes widen in exaggerated astonishment. “You needed keeping in line?”

“All right,” he grumbles, giving her the gentlest little shove. “No need to oversell the amazement, Swan. I was a terror, I fully admit it.”

“Was?”

“Was, am…” One eyebrow pops up. “Will be.”

She bursts out laughing. “Yeah, I bet he had his hands full.”

Killian nods ruefully. “That he did.”

She can see the fondness behind all the irreverence, and she gets it. She never had a brother, but she often wished for one. Or a sister. Just… someone. Family. Someone on her side. From the sounds of it, that’s what Liam was for Killian.

“He sounds like a good guy,” she says softly.

“The best. Liam is the reason why I ended up in the Navy. He got me a commission, helped me with my studies… I owe him everything.” He clears his throat, then flashes another grin. “In fact, now I think about it, you could do worse.”

She wants to know more, but it’s clear that he’s done talking about Liam—and the grin is more genuine this time. The fact that he’s making jokes rather than rebuffing her feels like a victory.

So she goes with it, lightly slapping the back of her hand against his chest. “Stop trying to set me up with your brother. I’m married.”

He laughs, and it’s that genuine laughter that she so rarely gets to see, the laughter that makes his head tilt back and his eyes crinkle. “To poor old Will, aye. My apologies. I seem to keep forgetting.”

She makes a face at the reminder of her performance earlier. “Be honest, how bad was it? I really should’ve—I thought I had it figured out, but—I don’t know. They put me on the spot.”

“It was fine,” he assures her. “Though you might want to work on describing him. That did not sound like a woman in love.”

“I know. I just couldn’t think of anything.”

“Well, not to worry,” he says lightly. “Perhaps you two are simply going through a rough patch.”

She shoots him a narrow-eyed look, making him laugh again. “I’m being quite serious, love. It’s probably what they’ll assume, if you keep calling your husband ‘kind’ and ‘dependable’.”

“What’s wrong with kind and reliable?” she asks, even though she already knows he’s right.

“Because love means passion,” he says, “and caring, and knowing the other person. It’s not kind or perfect, sometimes you want to strangle them, but—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “I’m merely pointing out that there’s no passion in dependable. No romance.”

Emma manages a nod, trying desperately not to let on how winded she suddenly feels. Her knees are a little weak. Killian Jones getting passionate about the topic of love and romance might be more than she can handle.

She casts about for a way to get them off the subject, realises that they were originally on a different subject, and reaches for that. “I don’t even know anything about Navy officers. What do they do after they retire?”

“They marry a beautiful woman, apparently.” Killian winks. “Lucky bastard.”

It’s her turn to give him a shove. “You saying that being married to me is a full-time job? Thanks.”

“It might be,” Killian mutters, and she shoves him again, and he laughs. “All right, all right.” He considers it. “Let’s say he made his fortune at sea, and bought a small estate to raise a family.”

“How do you make a fortune at sea?” she asks. “I mean, other than, y’know.”

“My way?” He grins, then sobers. “Much the same way, really. You take it. From pirates, or smugglers, or someone else’s navy.” His voice takes on a cynical note. “It isn’t robbery if it’s endorsed by the king, you know.”

“That’s—” She’s about to say that’s not fair, but then she thinks about it. About her own experience with the justice system, and the foster system, and all kinds of other perfectly legal systems. The bribes she’s witnessed, the deals, the shakedowns. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

He looks surprised at her agreement. “I don’t think a princess—” that last word is so quiet that he’s barely more than mouthing it “—is supposed take that kind of view, love.”

She makes a face. “Think there’s a lot of things I’m not supposed to be doing.”

He grins again, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I won’t tell anyone.”

She should probably roll her eyes, or shove him away again. But she can’t bring herself to do it, not when she’s just learned a bit more about him.

Liam. His brother’s name was Liam, and he was stubborn and loyal and rode herd on his troublemaking little brother.

So she smiles at him, and hopefully he knows everything she means by it when she says, “Good.”

 *  *  *

 Regina doesn’t like the castle. For one thing, it isn’t hers; for another, it’s in ruins, and though she’s done a bit to help fix it up, there’s only so much she can do if she doesn’t want to spend all her energy on repairs. Which she doesn’t. Because it’s not hers.

And because without access to her vault and her books, magic is frustratingly difficult. She can summon a fireball no problem, but it’s not like she memorised spells for fixing walls or plumbing. Much as she hates to admit it, she’s never been very good at working without instructions.

Besides, Zelena is out there, and it would be monumentally stupid to spend all her magic on repairing the castle when warding and protecting it is more important.

As she has explained to Grumpy at least twice now, not that it has stopped his snide comments.

Her room is fine, now that she has fixed most of the holes and restored the window panes and cleaned the whole thing, but it’s just that: a room. Everything else is shared, and she doesn’t care for that at all. She can’t just go down to the kitchen when she feels like baking. She can’t seem to go anywhere without running into one of the dwarves or Granny or a Merry Man.

She still doesn’t know why they’re called that. None of them seem very merry to her.

And for all of Snow’s talk about being in this together, Regina is alone more often than not.

It doesn’t bother her. It’s not like she wants to hang out with the dwarves, or Snow and Charming and the sappy looks they give each other, or Blue and her sanctimonious looks, or Robin and his snarky comments and not-so-merry men.

But when she walks in on a group of them sitting around the big table in the hall, playing dice and drinking and laughing, she feels a pang somewhere deep inside.

Because of course they didn’t invite her.

Snow looks up, and Regina can’t tell if she’s feeling guilty or if her smile is always that bright. “Regina! Come join us?”

“Oh, no.” Regina is already backing away. She can see Grumpy glowering at her, Robin frowning, one of his men—John, she thinks—giving her a calm, assessing look. She’s not going to inflict her company on them. She’s not going to sit there awkwardly while they all chat and laugh, at a loss of what to say. She never knows what to say. And she doesn’t want to talk to them anyway. “No, thank you.”

She’s sick of the castle, and everyone in it. She needs to get out—away from the looks and the chatter and the constant reminders that she doesn’t belong. She never belongs. Snow is somehow already fast friends with Robin and his people, just like she’s always friends with everyone. It’s like a kind of magic that Regina can’t access.

She’d blame the villain thing, but Hook managed to befriend them all to the point where Snow and Charming miss him, at least a little. And it’s not that she’s never been invited, either.

No, it’s something about her, specifically. The thought makes her gut twist.

She shakes the feeling off as she strides down the hallway towards the castle entrance. It doesn’t matter. She’s not here to make friends. She doesn’t need friends. What she needs is to get the hell out of this castle.

Her instinct is to head for the stables, but she doesn’t have a horse here. She doesn’t have a horse at all anymore. Her gut twists again as she thinks of Rocinante. Another death—another murder—and for what?

She shakes that thought off, too. So she can’t go for a ride, fine. She can walk. Out in the forest, where it’s quiet, where she can be alone.

She has reached the yard when there are footsteps behind her, and a man calls, “Hey! Your Majesty! Regina!”

She turns. It’s Robin, of course, and he’s frowning at her again. ”Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she snaps.

He raises his eyebrows. “Clearly.”

“Since when do you care?” she challenges.

He stares at her. Then he sighs. “Frankly, I don’t know why I bother. Where are you going?”

“That’s my business,” Regina informs him.

As usual, her unfriendly tone has no noticeable effect on him. “It’s not safe to wander off alone.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she says acidly, “but I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re leaving the castle, at least take someone with you,” Robin insists.

“That would defeat the purpose,” she mutters.

“Why? What are you up to?”

The suspicion makes her hackles rise. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She hasn’t done anything except help, in fact. Not that anyone seems to notice. “Nothing. I just want two minutes without someone accusing me of being up to something, or… Look, it’s not like anyone’s even going to miss me, so if you’ll excuse me…” She sweeps past him.

At least, that’s the idea. The effect is ruined when he pivots on his heel and falls into step beside her, and his longer legs mean that she can’t shake him off without breaking into a run. Damn him.

“Maybe they would if you gave them a chance,” Robin says. “Why do you push everyone away all the time?”

“I don’t,” she snarls. “I don’t need to. They stay away all on their own.”

“And you’ve never wondered why that might be?” he asks mildly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands.

He shrugs. “It means that if you don’t like being alone, you could try being nice.”

She bites back the diatribe about all the times that she tried and it bit her in the ass. “I’m plenty nice,” she bites out, glaring at him.

“Yeah, I can you’re just overflowing with warmth and friendliness,” Robin says drily. “Why wouldn’t anyone want you around?”

To her utter horror, she can feel tears pricking at her eyes. To cover it, she hisses, “Exactly. So I won’t make you endure it.”

And then she calls up her magic—the magic she can access, the magic she has mastered—and whisks herself away into the forest. Long legs or not, he can’t follow that.

Somehow, it doesn’t make her feel any better.

 * *  *

 As the Serena Hawk sails on, Emma finds herself at loose ends once again. Killian is all but an honourary crew member now, and Henry has learned that there are cats aboard the ship, so between trying to befriend them and hanging out with Jim, he has plenty to keep him busy. Which leaves Emma as the only person aboard with nothing to do—other than tidy the cabin and work out, neither of which are activities that take up much of her day.

But she’s the wife of a Navy officer. She can have a little ship expertise. And she did okay helping Lynch during their escape from Blackbeard.

With that in mind, she goes to talk to Carswell.

She finds him hunkered on the deck, discussing something with Janssen who, she has learned, is the ship’s carpenter. Killian is standing nearby, offering the occasional opinion in between his own work.

“Mr. Carswell?” she asks, and the quartermaster turns and looks up at her.

“No, no, none of that. Call me Wes.” He flashes a smile. “Please.”

It’s hard not to glance over at Killian then, given the flirtatious tone of the request, but Emma just smiles back. “All right. Wes. I wanted to ask you something—”

He sits back on his haunches, lifting a hand to shade his eyes against the sunlight. “Ask away, milady.”

“Is there anything I can do? To help? I just feel useless sitting around all day.”

“I thought that’s what fine ladies do.”

She scoffs. “I’m not a lady.” It’s out before she can think better of it, before she can remember who she’s supposed to be. “I’m a lady-in-waiting,” she goes on, recovering. “I’m used to—chores.”

She really hopes he doesn’t ask her what they are.

“Fair enough.” He raises his eyebrows. “Actually, you might be able to give Lynch a hand. Literally. Not a lot he can do at the moment, with the arm and all, but he knows what to do.”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Just…” He leans forward a little, dramatically conspiratorial. “Don’t mind him if he tries to put on the charm. Don’t believe a word of it.”

Janssen bursts out laughing. “Yeah, ‘cause she should take advice about that from you.”

“Aye, she should,” Wes says with a grin and a wink aimed at Emma. Beside him, Janssen is shaking his head at her with a grimace.

Emma laughs. “I’ll be careful.”

Lynch, to her slight relief, does not put on the charm. He’s perhaps a few years older than her, a stout, bearded, slightly hawk-nosed man with a straightforward, easy-going manner. He’s the ship’s cook—as well as an expert sailor, as he assures her, but it’s his cooking skills that he’s most concerned about.

“If we don’t do it,” he says mock-grimly, “Aileen or Janssen might, and then we’ll be in for it.”

So Emma once again finds herself fishing off the side of the boat, and gutting fish under Lynch’s direction. It’s nice to have a job to do, even if she’s not the biggest fan of fish. For the first time since she came aboard the Hawk, she doesn’t feel like she’s in the way as she sits on deck while everyone goes about their own tasks.

Killian is nearby, working in the rigging with Janssen. Emma is busy trying to keep her eyes away from him, so she’s staring out at the sea when the ship dips and she catches sight of something out there. A dark, triangular shape is breaking through the surface of the water, not very far from the ship. Even as Emma watches, another two show up nearby.

“Lynch,” she says, trying not to betray the way her heart is suddenly pounding. “Is that—sharks?”

“Hmm?” He looks over, thoroughly unconcerned. “Oh, no. Dolphins.”

“Dolphins?” Emma all but scrambles over to the railing. Another dark fin cuts through the water, then another, but Lynch is right: they aren’t the sharp triangle she remembers from Jaws. Moments later, she catches sight of a sleek grey body emerging from the waves, a fine mist of water as the dolphin exhales. There are at least five of them, moving smoothly through the water as if they’re part of the waves.

“Hey, kid!” she calls over to where Henry is crouched with Jim. “Look! Dolphins!”

Henry scrambles to his feet and takes one hurried step before he seems to remember the “no running” rule, and walks as fast as he can to the railing.

The dolphins have come closer by the time Henry reaches her. One breaks through the water and leaps, and Henry lets out a yelp. “Look!”

Emma feels a smile stretch across her own face. She has never seen dolphins in person before. “I didn’t think they came so close.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lynch says, his tone far less impressed. “They’ll do that. They like the waves we make—and the company.”

As if to illustrate his words, another dolphin leaps out of the water, half-turning as it does to splash back into the waves. “Mom!” Henry exclaims. “Did you see that?”

“I saw it, kid,” she assures him.

“They’re saying hello,” comes Killian’s voice from beside her as he joins them. He’s breathing hard from working, his eyes bright, and somehow he seems larger than life in that moment. He has left his coat in the cabin, and while his shirt is so loose that it shouldn’t show off his physique, the way the fabric drapes over his arms is very distracting. Not to mention the way he never buttons the damn thing properly, and the glint of the necklace he wars keeps drawing her eye down to his chest.

He goes on, “And probably hoping you’ll share your catch.”

He’s looking at Emma as he says that last, but she’s lost. Is he calling himself a catch? But he doesn’t look like he normally does when he spouts innuendo at her. “What?”

“The fish,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” That’s right, she’s been fishing. “Yeah, well,” she rallies. “I don’t share.”

He grins at her. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“But what if they’re hungry?” Henry asks.

“They can catch their own fish, trust me,” Lynch assures him. “This lot just wants to play and show off.”

Killian gets back to work, and Emma reluctantly turns her attention back to hers, but Henry stays at the railing, cheering when a dolphin leaps from the water and shouting reports about their antics. When they fall behind, he’s disappointed, but sits down nearby and starts peppering them with questions about dolphins. Emma is almost no help, but for once, she’s almost glad of it, because Killian is. And when he’s answering her kid’s questions, she’s got the perfect excuse to look over at him.

It’s all kinds of appealing, too, him going on about dolphin behaviour while hauling on ropes, muscles flexing under that shirt of his.

Not that she’ll ever, ever, admit that.

“Why’s it called a school?” Henry asks.

Killian lifts his eyebrows. “Where else would they learn how to be dolphins?”

Emma tries her best not to laugh; Henry groans, though he’s smiling. “No, really.”

“I’ve no idea,” Killian says. “It’s simply the term people use. Like a murder of crows, or a gaggle of geese.”

“Oh.” Henry makes a face, presumably at the idiosyncracies of the English language, and falls silent. For a while, the only sound is the wind and the ocean, the creaks of the ship and the now-familiar crackling sound that the ropes make as they stretch, and the occasional comment from Lynch.

After a while, Henry says, “Hey, Killian.”

Killian twists around to look at him. “Hmm?”

Henry is barely holding back a smirk. “Why did everyone forgive the dolphin when he did something wrong?”

Killian looks confused for the briefest moment, before catching on. “Enlighten me.”

Henry’s smirk becomes a full-blown grin. “’Cause he didn’t do it on porpoise!”

Killian rolls his eyes with a good-natured groan as Henry bursts into delighted laughter. Lynch and Emma chuckle, and Henry looks around at them all, so proud of himself for his dumb joke. Emma exchanges a look with Killian, sharing a moment of amused pride.

The silent understanding flares between them, that connection that seems to keep happening where they’re somehow on the same wavelength.

It’s the kind of moment she would—and arguably should—have with Neal. Except Neal would say something, some wisecrack about how Henry gets his terrible sense of humour from her, or how they need to work on his jokes.

Killian just shakes his head, chuckling, and says, “Well played, lad.”

Henry beams with pride. Killian turns back to his work, and so does Emma, silently berating herself. She shouldn’t be comparing him to Neal at all. And she’s not, not really.

It’s just making it clearer to her why those moments with Neal always made her want to pull back, to break that connection before it could break her. The impulse is there with Killian too—it’s there with everyone—but it feels different. It’s habit, not instinct.

Maybe the problem isn’t just with her after all.

Mentally shaking her head at herself, Emma pushes the thoughts away and stabs her knife into a fish.

Gutting the fish they caught is a gross job, but she doesn’t mind. Life at sea, she has found, requires you to change or leave behind any ideas of “gross”. There’s no shower, no mirror, and very little privacy. Her hair is a lost cause; she has braided it back to keep it out of the way and under control in the wind, and she’s doing her best not to think about it. Or how she probably looks in general.

She spent enough time living rough that it doesn’t bother her—or at least, it shouldn’t. It’s familiar. It doesn’t matter.

But she can’t help feeling a little self-conscious at times, especially when Killian’s around.

Which is ridiculous.

If a little grime puts a guy off, she reminds herself firmly, he isn’t worth it anyway.

Besides, since when does she care whether Killian is put off or not?

Since Neverland, a little honest voice at the back of her mind answers.

She scowls at it.

Across the deck, Wes breaks into song. The crew does that on occasion, singing to keep the rhythm as they work on the sails, or simply because they want to. It’s something Emma never thought about; without radios or mp3 players, the only way to have music is to make it yourself.

The one Wes is now belting out is a rowdy song about a young man and his drunken adventures. Various other crew members join in the chorus—and this time, for the first time, that includes Killian.

Emma does her best to take it in stride. He certainly does, still focused on his work as he sings along almost off-handedly. She had no idea he could sing, but he carries the tune well.

He’s got a nice voice for it, too.

For the first time in a long time, Emma wishes that her mother were here. No, not her mother; Mary Margaret, her friend. The first woman Emma met who she could actually talk about boys with—not that she herself did much talking, about anything, but she could have.

Because she would really like to talk to someone about this. This man who explains things to her kid and makes dumb dad jokes and gives up his ship for her and sings drinking songs with a voice like that.

She probably still wouldn’t talk to Snow about it if she were here. But she can’t help wishing that she could.

Wes is still singing; the young man in the song has made his way to the bedroom window of a nobleman’s daughter, and there’s a punchline about her father wondering about the size of his daughter’s boots. Henry wrinkles his nose as Lynch whistles and some of the others laugh. “Why did she get bigger boots?”

“Ah.” Killian abandons the chorus and smirks conspiratorially. “Because they aren’t her boots, they’re the young man’s. But her father is blissfully unaware that he’s in the room with her, you see.”

Emma’s first thought is that things like this are surely lost on a kid Henry’s age; her second is that she should probably have stopped Killian from explaining it.

But Henry’s eyebrows rise, and he says “oh” in a way that makes her realise it’s too late to try and preserve his innocence. He might not know exactly what the young man in the song is up to, but he clearly knows it’s more than just a sleepover.

Regina is not going to be happy. Learning about dolphins is well and good, but learning about this… oh, boy.

Then again, maybe Henry simply recognises the insinuations from everyone’s comments and looks back in Storybrooke. It’s not like Regina herself is exactly blameless in that regard. Maybe she shouldn’t have made so many damn comments about Emma and Killian.

Serves her right.

Wes finishes the song with a flourish, catching Emma’s eye as he does. He grins, winks—and begins another song, which prompts Lynch to bark out a laugh as he recognises it. The cheerful tune belies the words, which tell the story of the prettiest girl in the village who stole and then broke the singer’s heart.

And Wes is singing it to her. That much is obvious, from the way he keeps grinning at her in between pining looks. Emma tries and fails to fight back a blush. Of all the dumb, ridiculous…

Lynch takes the cue—or maybe the challenge—and throws a little drama into his performance as well, batting his eyelashes at her. Even Inga, keeping the rhythm by tapping her foot on the deck, sends her a few dramatically lovelorn looks in between bouts of laughter.

Once Killian realises what’s happening, he gives an amused little laugh—and joins in.

It’s embarrassing. It’s like being in a damn Disney movie. But they’re joking, and having fun with it, and it’s… nice. Even with Killian, there’s none of the lingering heaviness she might have expected during a song about unrequited love. No, he seems to be treating the whole thing as a joke, playing up the drama, and enjoying himself.

And that makes it easier for Emma to give in to the part of herself that isn’t embarrassed, the part of herself that likes having a bunch of people sing to her. Maybe it’s the fairytale part, the one she usually tries to suppress or ignore, idealistic and even romantic and everything life has taught her not to be.

But she’s in fairytale land now, quite literally. And she’s not Emma Swan. She’s a lady from the royal court, who is probably used to this kind of thing.

So she laughs, and shoots Wes and Killian wry looks that make them grin, and blows Inga a kiss that has everyone cheering, and enjoys the moment.

 *  *  *

 She has to go belowdecks a little while later to help Lynch cook the fish they caught. It tastes better than she expected, and she takes her own lunch back up on deck, along with portions for Henry and Killian.

Henry takes his food and wanders back over to Jim, who begins telling him a wild story about the time he and the others escaped from the Navy.

“Don’t take it personally, love,” Killian says with an amused smile, glancing over at the two boys. “I gather the lad has always loved fairytales.”

Emma laughs. “Smugglers escaping from the Navy? You’ve got a weird idea of fairytales.”

“It’s close enough,” Killian assures her. “It seems that Jim has yet to learn the difference between embellishment and lie.”

“Oh, there’s a difference?” Emma asks, smirking.

He levels a look at her that says that he knows she knows. Chuckling, she asks, “You think he’s making it up?”

“Of course he’s making it up,” Killian says. “A group of smugglers, taking out a Navy boarding party and then running? Impossible. What he could get away with is a story about a bumbling lieutenant who failed to find their hidden compartments, and was persuaded to let them go. What likely happened...” It’s his turn to smirk. “I’d wager that a bribe blinded the lieutenant to said compartments, and both parties went on their way satisfied.”

Emma has to laugh. It sounds about right, and she’s spent enough time around Neal and others like him that she knows that’s exactly how these things go. “Doesn’t sound nearly as impressive, though.”

“No, indeed. One of many reasons not to become a smuggler.” He winks.

“Might have to tell that to Henry,” Emma says wryly. “He sure seems impressed.”

Killian grimaces theatrically. “Well, if he considers it as a career, we might have to set him straight. If he comes out of this with the ambition to become a smuggler, Regina might murder me.”

“Or me,” Emma says. Then she considers it. “Or both of us.”

“I thought she might be inclined to blame me, but thinking about it, you might be right,” Killian agrees. “Best to avoid it. Perhaps I ought to tell him some stories of my Navy days, chasing down foolish smugglers.”

She smiles at that. “Is that what you did?”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “Not often, but I can spin a better tale than our young friend.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Emma bites back a request for a real story from his Navy days. He rarely even mentions that part of his past, and asking him about it feels personal in a way she should probably avoid. Yes, she’s asked him before, but that was when she didn’t know him as well. Back when they were simply tentative allies. Now…

She’s been trying not to think about it. About him. But it’s hard not to when she’s lying in her hammock and can hear him breathing a few feet away. It’s a little pathetic, actually, just how much of her thoughts he takes up. They aren’t even spending all that much time together at the moment. It just feels like she’s constantly seeing new sides to him.

Or rather, frustrating little glimpses of those sides that have her curious for more.

“I think he’s a bad influence,” she says wryly, trying to get her own thoughts off that track and back to the conversation. “Henry can’t wait to get back to the others so he can tell them all about our dramatic escape from pirates.”

Killian makes a face. “Dramatic indeed. Some stories need no embellishment, I suppose.”

“I think I prefer it when the stories are made-up,” she says. “That whole based on real events thing isn’t so great when the real events are happening to you.”

“Aye.” Killian gives a rueful shake of his head. “It isn’t nearly as fun from this side, I must say.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

It’s not until he smiles back at her that she realises he did it on purpose this time, bringing up his past. Not his Navy past—that, he’s still close-mouthed about—but his past as a pirate. That’s something he’s been doing more and more, and she has wondered why. She can’t help thinking that it’s a test, to see how she reacts. To make sure that she knows who he is.

No trickery.

She swallows. But she can’t help seizing the opportunity. “So that’s what you did, huh?”

“Aye.” He makes a face as he reconsiders. “Well. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I was better at it.”

She rolls her eyes at the ego display, but smiles. “Right. Of course.”

He shoots her a smug grin. “I have the gold to prove it, love.”

“Uh-huh.” She returns the smirk and settles back against the railing. “So, tell me how to be a better pirate than Blackbeard.”

“I never went after smugglers, for starters,” he says. “Bloody stupid, trying to run down vessels made for outrunning the Navy.”

“Makes sense. So who did you go after?”

“Merchant ships, mostly,” he says. “Those flying Navy colours.”

She arches her eyebrows. “Isn’t that riskier, attacking ships that are under Navy protection?”

“Oh, aye.” His grin widens as he warms to the topic. “But that was the point. To hit the king where it hurts—his royal coffers. Riskier, aye, but also far more rewarding.”

Emma can just imagine him in a tavern somewhere, impressing some girl with tales of his exploits. She isn’t that girl—she refuses—but she can’t resist asking, “And what about the Navy?”

“Oh, we tangled with them a few times, too.” He says it with a defiant sort of pride. “And sent them running.”

She smiles. “And how much of that is... embellishment?”

He shakes his head. “Embellishing is for when you’re trying to impress someone, love, and I know better than to try and impress you.”

“Really,” she says, with a tone and expression that should tell him exactly how much she believes that.

He grins again. “Well, perhaps not. But I know better than to try and do it with lies.”

Because she’d see through them. And, she suspects, because it would be dishonourable, but he isn’t big on admitting that. “Good,” she says, refusing to dwell on why exactly it’s good. “So… how many?”

He looks startled. “What?”

“How many ships?” she asks. There’s a challenge in her voice, and she knows it. But she feels like he challenged her first, by bringing up his past. So she meets his gaze, calm and curious, and waits to see if he’ll answer.

He does. “Thirty-four in all,” he says evenly. “Three of them Navy ships.”

Emma has no point of reference, but thirty-four ships sounds like a lot. And she doesn’t want to ask, but the question comes out anyway. “Did you sink them all?”

He shakes his head. “We sank two of the Navy ships and left the other derelict. I don’t know what became of her.”

There’s no apology or regret as he says it, but it inches onto his face afterwards, much as he tries to stay stoic. Emma has no point of reference for this either, but the numbers seem odd. “What happened?” she asks, playing a hunch. “After the second one?”

She catches the surprise flashing across his face at that; a rueful smile follows. “I realised that the men on those ships were men like me—men who thought they were serving a noble cause. Men who had no real choice but to be there.” He shrugs casually. “They hardly deserved to die for that.”

“Ah.” Emma has no idea what to say; he’s right, of course, but now her mind has snagged on no real choice. Together with other comments he’s let slip, it makes her wonder how exactly he wound up in the Navy in the first place.

She’s starting to understand why he rarely talks about his past in detail. She thought it was out of shame or a reluctance to admit to or revisit his crimes, but that’s not it. He doesn’t shy away from that. But there’s a lot of pain hidden behind those easy words, that determined smile.

He’s so open about everything else that it’s a bit puzzling. He’s not a man who’s scared of how he feels, nor of admitting it, but this… this is different somehow.

She understands all too well that the past can be painful; her own is hardly a picnic. It’s just never stopped her from talking about it.

She’s not really sure, now she thinks of it, why that is.

“I was hell-bent on vengeance, for my brother,” Killian goes on. “It’s not an excuse, of course, but that’s what drove me at first. I lost sight of things for a while. Or rather, I simply didn’t think it all through.”

Emma nods. That much, she understands. Killian is smart as a whip, but she knows how aggressively single-minded he gets when he’s riled up.

“And as I said before,” he goes on, in a light tone that tells her he’s determined not to let this conversation get too heavy, “a pirate crew demands treasure. So all things considered… we focused on taking merchant ships. I won’t pretend no one ever got hurt, but it was never the object. We took their cargo, not their lives. Of course,” he grins, and it’s only a little too bright and determined, “that had the added bonus that they were alive to talk about me.”

“Which I’m guessing they did,” she says, smiling back.

He gives a thoroughly unconvincing humble shrug. “They did indeed.”

“So you get a reputation,” Emma says, nodding, “which makes the next time easier, because if people are scared of you, it’s easier to convince them to surrender?”

“That’s about it, aye.” His grin is more genuine now. “You were right about having it in you. You’d make a good pirate captain.”

“Thanks,” she says drily, “but I think I’ll leave that to you.”

 *  *  *

 As the crew settles in to the new routine after the attack, Emma finds that Wes has discovered a new hobby: flirting with her. Mostly, it takes the form of teasing and elaborate courtly compliments—or at least, his idea of courtly compliments. Emma has a suspicion that the gentlemen at court aren’t supposed to be this forward, and from the way Wes smirks, he knows it too.

Thankfully, Emma has plenty of experience with keeping guys like him at a distance, and she’s never shy of an answer. Spending so much time with Killian has really helped to hone her wits, and it’s fun, shutting Wes down and getting laughs from the rest of the crew while she does it.

And to her mild surprise, Killian shows no sign of jealousy.

A few days into the voyage, Emma is ambling along the deck when she catches sight of Killian and Wes, standing on a clear few metres of the deck. Both have their cutlasses out, and as Emma watches, they clash into a bind, but their movements are slow and telegraphed.

“No,” she hears Killian say as she approaches, “you use the short edge, turn it into the—” He breaks off and looks at Emma. “Emma! Just the woman we need.”

She eyes him warily. “Oh, yeah?”

“Aye, you remember the trick for levering your opponent’s sword from his hand?”

She nods, still wary. “Is that what you guys are doing?”

“Trying to do,” Wes says ruefully. “I can’t get my head around it.”

“If you have a moment,” Killian says, “would you mind helping me demonstrate?”

Emma agrees, feeling unaccountably proud of herself at being good enough at this to show it to someone else. Killian runs through the move with her a couple of times, before pairing her off with Wes and having him do it, with Killian watching and correcting his stance.

“Thanks,” Wes says when he’s finally got the hang of the move, sending Emma’s blade skittering across the deck. He winks at her when she has retrieved it. “If you want me to show you a few moves, you know, return the favour...”

Emma winks back. “How about you show Hook, and I’ll watch you guys and make sure you’re doing it right?”

Killian bursts out laughing. So does Wes, shaking his head dramatically, and that’s the end of that.

“You’re hell on the ego, milady,” he says, still chuckling.

Killian pats him on the shoulder in feigned commiseration. “You get used to it.”

As Wes heads off to talk to the captain, Emma hands Killian back the blade. He takes it, and then he grins and nudges her shoulder with his arm. “It appears you have another admirer, love.”

She makes a face; Wes is a charmer, and she knows exactly what he means by all his little grins and comments. “I wouldn’t call it that—and what do you mean another one?”

He frowns as if it should be obvious. “In addition to me.”

Her heart gives a frankly stupid little flutter at that, and she laughs to try and cover the equally stupid smile that wants to spread across her face. “Oh come on, that’s—”

But she cuts herself off, because what is it? Different?

It is, and she knows it—Killian can be every bit as charming as Wes, but it’s not a fling he’s after, and there’s a hell of a lot more depth to the way his eyes linger on her. But knowing that and saying it are two very different things.

“Ridiculous,” she finishes. “He’s just—that’s just how he is, I think.”

“Oh, aye,” Killian agrees, and it occurs to her that she kind of just said exactly what she didn’t mean to say. “You’ll find that with sailors. Perhaps I should have warned you.”

Emma laughs again. “You’ll find that with men. Trust me, I don’t need to be warned.”

He inclines his head, still looking amused. “A fair point.”

She notices movement at the corner of her eye, and looks over to catch Ria looking right back. The captain is still talking to Wes, and she makes no acknowledgement, simply keeps talking to her quartermaster like she didn’t see anything.

But it makes guilt flare inside Emma. Guilt, and the heavy, hot feeling of being caught that she’s all too familiar with.

Ridiculous. She wasn’t doing anything. They were just talking. That’s allowed.

She ignores the little voice pointing out that she’s been telling herself that awful lot lately.

 *  *  *

 The forest isn’t as comforting as Regina hoped. It’s the best she can get, given the circumstances, and it’s good to get away from the castle. She was right about that.

And she was right about nobody missing her, too. Nobody asks her where she went when she makes her way back.

She goes again the next day, and she can already see it becoming a new habit, her daily—or almost-daily--escape.

The problem is that it leaves her with nothing but her own thoughts for company. And she keeps coming across things that make her think of Henry. A deer running across a clearing in the distance. A rabbit burrow. A cave. A fallen tree that looks perfect for climbing.

Henry would love it here, and her heart aches with the thought. She’d give anything to have him here. She’d even let him explore that gross-looking cave if he wanted.

She’s sitting on the fallen tree, staring at the endless leaves and branches and undergrowth, when she hears a twig snap. One, then another, and another. Something, or someone, is approaching, and not being very careful to avoid notice.

Regina gets to her feet, gathering magic to her.

Moments later, she lets it go again, because there’s more rustling and a figure comes into view. A small figure, movements clumsy, eyes wide under a mop of dark curls.

“Roland,” she says, and the boy starts and almost falls as he comes to a stop.

There’s no more noise. So he’s alone. That can’t be good.

“What are you doing out here?” she asks, keeping her voice as light and friendly as she can, and flashing a smile for good measure.

Roland just stares at her, and she knows she has to be careful. She’s never really interacted with the boy before, so he barely knows her. The look he’s giving her is a mixture of fear and irrepressible curiosity.

“Did you come all the way out here by yourself?” she asks. “Are you running away?”

Roland shakes his head, sending his curls flying. “There’s a rabbit,” he says. “I wanna see the rabbits.”

The ‘r’ sound gives him a little trouble. It’s kind of adorable. In fact, he’s adorable all around, with those curls and big dark eyes and the dimples that flash when he smiles.

He got those from his father.

Regina pushes away the thoughts of Robin’s dimples and feigns thought. There’s no way Roland is out here alone with Robin’s blessing, or indeed his knowledge. She needs to get him back home. “I see. You know, I’m pretty sure I saw a rabbit’s burrow earlier. Do you want me to show you?”

Roland’s eyes grow wider.

“Come on,” she says, holding out a hand as she takes a step towards him. “I’ll show you.”

Roland still looks unsure. “Papa says I can’t go with strangers.”

“And your papa is right,” she says. “But you know me, don’t you? I’m a friend of your papa’s.”

She’s stretching the definition of “friend” to breaking point with that; she’s pretty sure that Robin doesn’t like her, and their relationship is more like “mutual tolerance for the sake of the cause”. But Roland is all of five. There’s no way he’s noticed that.

“And you know my name, right?”

“Regina,” Roland says, with a nod and another one of those half-mangled r’s.

“That’s right.” She gives him another encouraging smile. “So we’re friends, too. Come on, I’ll show you where the rabbits live.”

She can’t help noticing as she says it that this is exactly the kind of thing she’s warned Henry about. Stranger danger. Don’t ever go with anyone unless you know them. It’s the kind of thing an Evil Queen would do, lure children to come with her under false pretences. It’s the kind of thing she has done, come to think of it.

But Roland really shouldn’t be out here alone, and there’s no one else around. Her only other option is to just grab him and return him to his father, and that would terrify him.

Luckily, Roland nods. “Okay.”

He takes her hand as she reaches him, and she begins leading him back towards the castle, keeping up a steady stream of talk as she does. She tells him about the rabbits, asks him what other animals he likes, and whether he’s seen the birds nesting in the stables. Within moments, Roland is chattering away happily, and she has a moment of pity for Robin. His son is clearly the kind of kid who will just forget all the warnings as soon as he sees something interesting, or gets an idea in his head.

They haven’t quite made it to the road yet when she hears a voice. A familiar voice: loud, male, and strained with worry. “Roland!”

Roland comes to a stop, eyes widening again. “Uh oh.”

Regina tightens her hold on his hand a bit, just in case. “That’s your papa, isn’t it? I think we’d better tell him where we are.”

Roland looks reluctant, but Regina says, “We don’t want him getting lost, right?”

That clearly hasn’t occurred to him. He nods.

Regina draws breath, and shouts. “Robin? Over here!”

Robin is rather louder than his son as he comes crashing through the undergrowth, breathless and pale, eyes wide. “Roland--bloody hell.”

He falls to his knees before his son and snatches him into a hug. “Where the hell were you?”

“Papa!” Roland complains, little arms pushing at Robin’s shoulders. “Let go.”

“Not bloody likely,” Robin says, letting out a deep breath. Then he looks up at Regina. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” She’s immediately on the defensive, casting around for the right words to justify herself, to explain. She feels like that a lot around him. She doesn’t know how he does it, but she hates it. “I was just out—for a walk. And Roland showed up. Alone. I figured he probably wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Definitely not.” Robin gets to his feet, still holding onto Roland.

“Papa!” Roland squirms. “Let me down!”

“What did I tell you about going into the forest alone?” Robin asks, his voice taking on a stern tone that Regina knows well.

Roland shakes his head, lips pressed together. “Down!”

Robin is unmoved. “I’ll let you down, but you hold onto my hand, and not one word out of you.”

“But I wanna see the rabbits!”

“Then you should have asked someone to go with you,” Robin says. “No wandering off alone, you know that. Come on.”

Roland’s lips quiver, but he seems to know that tone, because he doesn’t try to argue any more. He lags slightly behind his father as they walk, steps dragging, but Robin says nothing, just keeps a tight hold of the boy’s hand.

“Thank you,” Robin says, turning back to Regina. “I swear he was right there, and I turned my back and he was gone. I don’t know how he does it.”

“I’m pretty sure kids have some kind of magic like that,” Regina says, a wry smile coming to her face before she can stop it. “It gets better when they get older.”

Robin raises his eyebrows. “You have a son, don’t you? Snow mentioned as much.”

“Snow needs to learn to mind her own business.” She snaps the words as the mention of Henry brings pain boiling back up.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Robin says, a note of impatience in his voice, “she mentioned it to try and explain your behaviour.”

Regina feels her eyebrows rise. “My behaviour?”

“This,” Robin says, gesturing at her. “The rudeness. The way you snap at everyone all the time. The things they all make allowances for, not that you seem to notice.”

“I am not—” But she is, and she knows it. She’s being rude to him right now, snapping at him for asking a simple question.

What does he mean, making allowances? No one ever makes allowances for her. They just make demands.

“No?” Robin says, still sounding a little impatient. “You reckon they all treat you the way you treat them?”

That gives her pause, and she hates it. Because he’s got a point, and that’s even worse.

“Of course not,” Regina says, doing her best to sound disdainful. “They’re far too good for that.”

As clapbacks go, it’s pathetic, and she knows it. Good isn’t an insult, in fact if anything she’s just called herself out for not being good.

Well, big newsflash there.

For a moment, they walk in silence, Regina trying to think of a better retort, Robin giving nothing away.

Then he says, “I don’t know what happened, but I gather it’s a painful subject. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

He apologises like it’s nothing, like it costs him nothing. After all the times they’ve butted heads, all the glares, that comes as a real surprise. She’s so surprised that she almost forgets that it really is a painful subject.

She doesn’t know how to respond, so she just keeps walking in silence. Robin is silent, too. After a minute or two, she can’t take it anymore.

“He’s in another realm.” She swallows, and shrugs. “I’m his adoptive mother. He wasn’t born here. He’s—when the curse brought us all back here, it left him behind. He’s with his birth mother now. Emma.”

“Snow and David’s daughter,” Robin says, nodding as the pieces fall together. “I didn’t know—that sounds complicated.”

She smiles again, like her heart isn’t broken. It’s a well-practiced smile, and she hates it. “We were figuring it out.”

“Right.” He hesitates for longer this time. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” It’s not all right, but the last thing she wants is this man’s sympathy. Or anyone’s, for that matter.

She hopes he’ll drop the subject, but he doesn’t seem to be done yet. “What’s his name?”

She smiles despite herself. “Henry.”

“A good name,” Robin says, nodding.

“He ran away a lot,” she says, to get them back on track. And then, more quietly, “From me.”

She has no idea why she says it. She doesn’t know why she’s talking about this at all, except that he’s asking, and listening, and it’s not like she can say anything to lower his opinion of her. It’s weirdly freeing.

“Ah.” Robin doesn’t look like he understands, exactly, but there’s no judgment in his eyes either. “Roland doesn’t run away, really. He just gets these ideas in his head, and it’s so exciting that he forgets about the danger. And the situation being what it is...” He trails off.

“You have to be a little stricter,” she says, nodding. She can’t judge anyone for being strict with their kids. She was, with Henry—too much so, probably. Or at least for the wrong reasons. “Sometimes it’s hard to keep them safe.”

“Yeah.” Robin smiles at her—an actual smile, not one of the sarcastic smirks she usually gets. “I’m very glad you found him. Thank you.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, she manages something halfway between a nod and a shrug. “Of course.”

He’s still looking at her, so she arches an eyebrow. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re just something of an enigma, that’s all.”

She doesn’t like the sound of that. Enigmas are things to be figured out, and she does not want this man to try and figure her out. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just having a hard time reconciling this woman with the Evil Queen,” he says. A hint of a smirk tugs at his mouth. “Or with the woman who yells at me every time I make a suggestion.”

“I don’t yell at you.”

He laughs. “No? What do you call it?”

She huffs. “You started it last time.”

“I don’t think I did,” he says with a smug grin.

“See, that right there,” she says, pointing, “that’s what I mean by starting it. You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re haughty and conceited,” he shoots back. He’s still grinning.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asks acidly.

“Yes, actually,” he admits, and he doesn’t look abashed or the least bit sorry. “It isn’t often I get to tell a member of the aristocracy exactly what I think of them.”

“You could tell Snow. She’s a lot more forgiving than I am.”

“Yes, she’s very gracious. I like her a lot. And I have in fact told her so.”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed and at the same time feeling strangely… light. “Of course you did.”

They bicker until they get back to the castle, because Robin has an answer for everything and Regina can’t let that stand, and it takes her until they get there to figure out what the odd feeling in her chest is.

When she does, she scowls harder than ever, especially when Robin leaves with a cheery wave that’s not quite insouciant enough to prove.

She’s stuck in Misthaven, without Henry, without her things, with Snow and Charming and a whole host of do-gooders.

She is not enjoying herself.

*  *  *

Tag list - I think this is everyone who’s actually interested in this fic and asked to be tagged, but let me know if you want to be added or taken off! @optomisticgirl​ @mariakov81 @courtorderedcake @spartanguard @winterbaby89​ @kday426​ @sals86​ @superchocovian​ @pirateherokillian​ @scientificapricot​

#cs ff #cs au #ouat ff #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fic #fic: given the choice #oh boy it's been a while huh #is this thing on?? #hi!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

#in our enclosures!! #video linked as source; which i'm glad to see already has a million views and is trending. That's Right #lackadaisy #WHICH i have been reading since at least '07 when i was thirteen my god b/c this animation is based on the ongoing webcomic #like does its influence show up Directly in some Discrete way i can point to in my art? not very easily probably. And Yet. #the inspiration....i wasn't able to be Regularly Only for at least another year / art done Nonprofessionally Online was novel to me #like wow ppl can make & post fanart of w/e they love huh....didn't know webcomics were a thing & i never really read that many since but. #good god the quality of Lackadaisy at its onset is like this is superb?? this person putting in all their talent and effort??? #and Then you get years & years more art and i don't even know what superlatives to throw out abt its quality as it evolves. obsessed w/it.. #if i see a new lackadaisy comic page i Will be acting out. obviously this animation is a delight & also stunning. and fascinating to also #juxtapose as a Translation / Interpretation of the comic in a different medium & standalone snippet of Story #and that we're not even quite there in the comic timeline; Taking Notes abt character info we get distilledly here....genuinely love like #take it back to '07 i'm like oh boy can't wait for the dream team to assemble. then a decade later when it did? Oh Boy. that is payoff lol #namely hooray for stitches and mudbug at the field office for every passing gangster. killing one marigold associate but not the other #which seems like a promising start to shootouts w/the other dream team triumvirate. i adore that in canon so far mordecai freckle & rocky #have met but only over a nice brunch. re: all intentions anyways. anyways i'm like Gifs Must Be Made while i'm also so riled afresh abt the #comic that i've been sooo hype for for over fifteen yrs now babeyyy Deservedly. i've done a couple of rereads & ought to do another.... #For Interest it'd probably take a few sittings to catch up from the start but there is much to be engaged over....this ongoing story that's #historical fiction prohibition bootlegging cats with plenty of focus on characters & several Mysteries. which i'm better at parsing now lol #like one of the more recent rereads like Oh Of Course x (probably) accidentally killed his y & z took the fall & that's a binding secret... #Not [oh of course] abt the circumstances surrounding a's death & how b & c were involved. nor the ''what's marigold's damage'' mystery #which is great. love to not know things. love that we can readily follow all the emergent drama everyone's wading in nowadays. hell yeah #anyways admire my organized approach to gifs here. four shots each Expressions Atmosphere Action Groupshots #sure might've muddled through gifmaking for this anyways but fr being a huge lackadaisy comic enjoyer for now most of my life helps #and its very Overall Inspiration like. just really getting the [you can really just draw stuff out here] going. fr the art's detail & skill #and that enrichment like i'm gonna have a great time following this. And I Have #you don't expect a crowdfunded indie animation in the mix back then but hell yeah fellas #SIGH ok removing a 4th gif that's broken / not displayed despite reuploading then entirely remaking it. if it's a bug i'll try again later

[snoweylily]

Give me a call if you ever get lonely I'll be like one of your girls or your homies Give me a call if you ever get desperate I'll be like one of your girls

#james bond #q #00q #007 #james bond x q #oh boy #it sure has been a while #since i made a 00Q video huh? #i first heard this song only two days ago #and i was SEIZED by inspiration #to all my fellow queers #this song is an absolute BANGER #move over lady gaga #we've got a new queer idol in town #Youtube

[mitsundere]

@benbaroweek2023 : day 1 - varsity years

#oh BOY this took a lot of time #my art #tgaa #dgs #the great ace attorney #dai gyatuken saiban #albert harebrayne #barok van zieks #benjamin dobinbough #benbaro #benbaroweek2023 #i wanted to export it in higher quality but they took 19.4 MB of space oh my god #based albert's hare on some of his concept art!! #alternate ending: barok becomes an impromptu poet when complimenting albert's eyes (and albert is like Huh.. *processing*) #honestly not satisfied with how i drew albert i feel like i didn't give his prettiness justice!!!!! #also sorry if the format is confusing #it's been while since i made any comics #now if you'll excuse me #*passes out

[shiraishi-an-official]

[When An goes to sleep that night, she’s back in SEKAI like she was earlier in the day. Nagi is ahead of her, walking away like she did all those times before.]

nagi-san…! wait!

[An runs after her again, and the same scene plays out. She’s yelling, and she trips, landing face first on the hard concrete. Only this time… Nagi doesn’t stop. She keeps walking.]

wait… no… come back! wait!

[An runs again, only to notice Navi’s disappeared entirely. She turns around, hoping to see Miku in the same place she was before, waiting for her. Only to see nobody. Nobody was there with her. Her teammate, Miku, her aunt, nobody. An shrinks, suddenly feeling tiny in the huge open area.]

nagi-san? miku…? kohane? akito, toya?!

anyone…?

[An shoots up, gripping her blankets and the stuffed bear Mizuki made for her in an iron grip, trying to stifle the tears threatening to spring forward.]

#// hi. i had a vision #// oh boy it’s been a while since an’s had sad hours huh #// anyway i’m going to bed. goodnight chat sleep well with this <3 #// this cat can fit so many abandonment issues #an posting

[achairwithapandaonit]

Can't believe my current hyperfixation broke me out of my month long streak of being unable to write anything just to write a potentially long ass byler fic when I never write romance. I'm so fixated on the idea of will getting to have something good happen to him

#stranger things #byler #and the worst part is (i say as if this isn't the thing i find fun) that my brain gets obsessed with character dynamics #and currently i belive the theory that mike has been a closeted homosexual this whole time and has been pushing his feelings for will onto #el (tho i'll be psyched if it turns out he's bi. it's just that the closeted homosexual theory seems to have more evidence pointing towards #it) #so because of that there's more than just will and mike to consider #el needs proper closure and understanding of the situation #and mike needs to confront that maybe he's never liked girls and that he can love el and it doesn't need to be romantic #and i also need to throw in will subtly coming out because mike was prodding into the idea of him having a crush on someone ELSE (gasp! #shock! horror!) #and guessed max of all people just cause she was the only girl in hawkins he could think of. and like he's just a fucking idiot huh #and then he thinks oh yeah maybe will likes boys and he's so fucking stupid that he can't see what's right in front of his face #even when will is like uhhh no?? i don't like lucas like that u idiot?? but would it be a problem if i like boys? #and mike is like oh fuck is that an option while in his head. and saying no that'd he great. cause he's so fucking gay #and he's just so dumb. he's a mess. i'd love to study him. i mean i am technically. isn't that what writing a fic from mike's pov is about #sorry for the rant my brain hasn't shut up for over a week #and then after all of this i'm gonna have to keep going huh #i'm gonna have to vecna SOMEONE #what is this gonna be??? like a 10K one-shot??? PANDA??? #if i never finish this i'm literally gonna be so mad

[hey-hermy]

.

#next stop is mood drop city #oh boy i am not feeling good #what to do when ur best friend tells you to your face you're not good enough ?? that you haven't been good enough for a long while ?? #i am feeling a little devastated a little in pain a little like im edging a panic attack a little like im going to throw up #she is still my best friend and we'll get through this #but right now i feel like ive been shot #n like im really rather quite alone actually #life really is just me and myself huh #sometimes i very very violently cba #someone idk #send a hug #its bad enough i hold myself to impossibly high standards i can't live up to but to hear the same thing from a friend ? its too much #its irrational to think but how the hell am i meant to live knowing im a serial disappointment to everyone around me ? #how does good enough exist when ive been shown time and fucking again that if im not perfect im not good enough and will be discarded #im rambling now but really im just hurting and i need to talk to the void for a bit

[synthaphone]

at whatever the stage of grief is when i stop judging myself for not being sad enough and instead judge myself for being TOO sad

#tw: death #i learn about grief and how this can happen and then it happens to me and im like damn #knowing about it doesnt stop it from happening huh #i wasnt super duper close with my grandpa but i did love him and of course at 2am my brain is like #’remember when you used to go to big boy with your family and grandparents??? grandpa loved big boy’ #like fuck!!!!! its 2am #personal #grandpa used to love to drive his car to this convenience store and we’d see his orange car parked there while driving by and be like #’oh grandpas at the supercenter!’ #and then a couple years ago i brought it up and they were like ‘yeah its been years now hes not well enough to go there whenever anymore’ #and it was like damn. i hate how quickly time went. all the years post high school have like. blurred together for me so i forget #that next year it will have been a DECADE since i moved away to college

[willynillynonsense]

*pops head in*

Hey Glitchtrap, I just wanted to check in and see if everything is going well at the moment for you? Will and one of my friend's are currently having a pretty long convo and I had some free time

So, THAT’S where that little s c a m p is hiding. Thanks for finally giving an answer.

*My guy, I’ve literally been… visiting an AU while you’ve been vibing in the darkness. What kind of revenge trip are you on?*

A very strong one.

#meanwhile with glitchtrap and pond #glitchtrap #mod pond #in character #ask answered #atlas #ooc: #been a while huh #oops #been a long week for me so #oh boi #sorry for not picking up the boys’ convo

[actualtoad]

today was such a day (negative, mostly)

#it’s my sisters birthday #she’s been really stressed because of my parents being so actively vehement at each other all week. she’s okay rn though #um #my friend teacher she/herred me like three four times while introducing me to somebody!!!!!! #and then???? my next hour teacher deadnamed me in front of the entire class because she doesn’t understand having multiple names in multiple #classes and yesterday she was bringing up how a different teacher had called me ari and i was like oh huh yeah okay i go by many names #like trying to be funny and vague about it but then today you know what she did? she called me ari-arthur-anya #she called me two school names and my FUCKING deadname because she doesn’t GET IT and im so FREAKING mad at her and she does NOT get a card #im so pissed im so mad at the two teachers that i thought were probably the most accepting teachers that i’ve ever KNOWN and now here they #BOTH of them on the same day one after another an hour apart!!!! im so pissed!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #and i know that mr hidaka didn’t MEAN it he’s talked to me about gender and stuff like!!!! i know it’s not representative of all of him but #it just hurts really bad that people who i know and love who are SO important to my feeling even a little safe at school #it hurts really bad knowing that they don’t even think of me as myself. that mr h can just forget to use my pronouns makes me want to cry #im so tired of it being something that people have to remember to do. im so tired of this other everything being the default #i need a fucking beard or something i guess. give me some time please!!!! i want to be a teenage boy please!!!!!!!! im so tired!!!! #i had a good morning with mr hidaka mostly like. basically i skipped my first hour class i couldn’t do it today i didn’t want to be there #and i couldn’t do it. so i went to his room how i do. and i said can i stay here. and he said of course i could but i would get marked #absent from my first hour but as long as i was okay with that i could stay. and so i did and i was working on stuff. and then #another teacher showed up. and okay something you guys for sure don’t know about my friend teacher is that he’s a frisbee coach at my school #like he’s in charge of the ultimate frisbee team shdhdf. he’s really into it it’s not really a sport feeling thing but it seems like fun #so anyway the other teacher was like hey (hidaka first name) me and some guys from the team are gonna go throw some frisbees do you want to #and mr h was like. yeah sure!! and he gave me the option between i could stay if i wanted but i could come with too and i said i’d come with #but i cant do frisbee. so it turned out to be the kids from the team and the other coach were doing fancy stuff together and me and mr h #just played some catch and he showed me how to do it and it was really fun and nice and it was really good #so it sucked when then the other teacher was like. so who’s this lovely person anyway? (exact words he said) #and my friend teacher mr hidaka said oh she skipped her first hour so shes here with me #and that hurt my stupid feelings pretty bad!!!!!!! i didn’t say anything though #and then the rest of the day happened. and now im home #all i have left for the rest of the school year is just my chemistry final so im not doing homework tonight #im still making finishing his book into a high priority it’s higher than the project

[fairy-angel222]

“𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘”.. 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐏𝐈𝐄 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo finds out that you’re baking a pie for some stupid co worker of yours, shows you that he’s the only one deserving

pairing: gojo x fem! reader

content: smut, tit slapping, pussy slapping, degradation, hair pulling, belly bulge, breeding, finger sucking, spit swallowing, mean teasing

When Gojo strolled into the kitchen to find you baking one of your signature cream filled pies he hummed. Pressing up against you with his arms around your waist while placing soft kisses to your neck.

“That smells delicious baby, who’s it for?” He had seen the text from your coworker asking you to bake one for him.

“Oh thanks baby! It’s just for some coworker at work. Been begging me for one of my pies for a while now.” You shrugged. “Hmm.. and would that co worker happen to be the same one who’s been flirting with you for ages?” He whispered when his lips reached your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin as you swallowed hard.

—

“Don’t fucking run from it baby, take it all like a good girl.” Gojo growled out, a grin spread across his face as his cock drilled meanly into your cunt. His hand in your hair yanking your head back to look up at him. Blue eyes seemingly darker when he groaned.

“My little slut’s so fucking pretty.” Grinding hard against your ass, a loud mewl escaping your lips when his tip grazed roughly into your gummy spot. “You feel that?” He rolled his hips again, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand pressed against the bottom of your stomach. “Feel me deep in you baby?”

You let out a shaky cry, your body being jerked back and forth with each of the man’s harsh thrusts. His hand pointing out the bulge of his tip against your skin. “Nngh— Satoru.”

“Open that pretty little mouth for me.” Gojo breathed, your back arching deeply as you sniffled. Doing as told and opening your mouth with a whimper, allowing Gojo’s spit to fall onto your tongue with a hum. Two of his slender fingers finding their way into your mouth, resting on the back of your tongue before he was lightly thrusting them down your throat.

“That’s it. That’s the good slut i know.” he smirked, your lips enclosing around the digits as your eyes closed with the shiver of your body.

Your loud moans were muffled as Gojo bullied his fat cock deep into your tightness. Eyes pooling with tears as your stomach burned with heat. Gojo’s hand finding its way to grope at your tits, pinching at your hard nipples making you let out a choked whine.

You yelped when your boyfriend’s large hand landed softly on your breast, mewling messily around his fingers when it landed harder on the other one. Your body trembled as Gojo’s finger trailed down your stomach, stopping at your clit to rub on the sensitive nub. Pulling out a string of moans followed by a cry when he slapped down at your clit.

“Gonna show you a real cream pie baby. Gonna stuff that pussy full of me.” Gojo grunted, one hand remaining on clit while he removed the one in your mouth with a string of salvia still attached. Using it to knead the flesh of your ass, red from the constant slamming of his hips onto it.

“S-satoruu, you’re so mean— ahh,” you mewled when you felt a harsh smack stinging through your skin. Your boyfriend’s hand reaching to your neck as he pulled you close, increasing the speed of his thrusts with a chuckle.

“Hmm, am i? Could’ve decided to leave this pussy wet and needy if i wanted to.” Pressing his chest flush against your back, his breath hot on your ear. “Could’ve left you to go bring you that stupid pie to that stupid boy, baby.” He scoffed in faux offense. “I’m hurt, i’d say i’m quite nice don’t ya think?”

You could only whimper as you felt yourself getting close, pussy clenching around Gojo’s cock when his grip on your neck tightened.

“O-oh, Satoru— ‘m close,” you cried, your eyes rolling back and your legs shaking.

“Thought i was mean huh? Why’re you coming on a mean man’s cock?” he teased, his finger’s movements on your clit speeding up to drive you over the edge.

Cumming hard with the scream of his name, your sopping pussy gushing onto his cock. Gojo groaned deeply, his thrusts noisy as heavy balls slapped against your folds. Basking in the feeling of your perfect pussy before he was bottoming out in you.

“Gonna stuff this pussy nice ‘n full with my cum.” His movements stilling as he pumped ropes after ropes onto your walls. Painting them from red to white with a smile. “Look at that, greedy pussy’s swallowing it all.” Pulling out of you ever so slowly and watching as his cum spilled in tiny spurts as your hole spasmed.

You let out a breath, allowing your body to fall limp into the sheets as you panted. You should have seen that coming.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you

[lov-3-rs]

“Show me some fuckin respect”

part 2

ghost and you have been at each other’s throats all day because apparently you don’t give him “enough” respect.

He walked up closer to you having you back up into a wall and even only inches away from your face, under the mask you could hear the grinding of his teeth and feel his hot breath seething out of it.

damn you really pissed him off

“give respect get respect” you say in a tone that would most definitely get your own ass whooped by your parents.

his eyes darkened and his hand moved so fast to grab your jaw you didn’t have time to react, “I am YOUR lieutenant, YOU listen to ME and YOU will do what I say without any questions or backtalk, do YOU understand private?” you were still so caught off guard by the grip he had on your jaw you couldn’t speak and…

and.

oh fuck this turned you on.

you couldn’t help but smirk in his grip which only became tighter “Answer me now” he shook you a little causing you to come back into reality “yes sir i’m sorry it won’t happen again” you groaned, Ghost tilted his head looking at you and even with the mask on you could see he was wearing a smirk through his eyes “you like this shit? huh? you like me grabbin you like this?” you moaned nodding your head yes and squeezing your thighs together.

god this really turned you on.

Ghost slowly let go of your jaw and his deep british accent “get on your knees private” you stand taken back a little.

my knees? why would he wan-

oh

oh

You slowly get on your knees still looking up at him, “go on then show me how sorry you really are” your heart is beating so fast right now “sir are we even allow-“ ghost grabs the back of head grabbing a handful of hair and forcing you to look up at him fully “what the fuck did i just say about questioning what i tell you?” you can feel yourself dripping through your fucking pants by now “not to do it” he loosens the grip on your hair “look at you listening for once” you tilt your head back down to the massive bulge in his pants that’s in desperate need for attention and release, you unzip his pants for his fat cock to slip out.

will this even fit in your mouth?

His dick is hard and veiny with pre cum leaking out of it, you grab the base of his shaft and start stroking it while you put your mouth on his pink tip and lick up the pre cum “Fuckin hell” his grip on your hair gets tighter once again as he pushes your head further down his cock “Fuckin look at ya, you’re a fuckin minx” drool was dripping from your chin down your neck and on his cock, you could feel the tears running down your face from the gagging you were doing, Ghost groaned and face fucked you till your lips were nice a swollen “sh-shit i’m gonna fuck that little hole of yours after I cum in this bratty fuckin mouth you got” your jaw was sore and your panties were soaked but you kept sucking and swirling your tongue around his dick “shit i’m gonna cum” he pushed your head all the way down to the bottom of his cock and painted your throat with his warm cum, after a couple of second sitting like that you finally pushed yourself back so you could finally breath. You were a mess with your hair knotted, drool and tears streaming down your face but god he loved it, Ghost zipped himself up kneeled down to you “come on It’s my turn to show you how sorry I am”.

and oh boy.

did he have a way of showing it.

#call of duty #cod smut #cod #ghost smut #ghost x y/n #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty

[ldrfanatic]

Oh Bella

Italian!Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

synopsis - 3 times the reader teases Theo’s Italian roots + 1 time she celebrates them

cute, lazy fluff, no angst just happy vibes for a happy christmas :)

slytherin boys masterlist navigation

warning - internet translated Italian

(got these ideas from Ben and Fabio on instagram they’re so funny)

It wasn’t easy to date Theodore Nott. It was always rewarding but it wasn’t always easy.

For starters, Theo grew up in Italy and has one of the thickest Italian accents you’ve ever heard. There were a few times over the course of your relationship that you had to ask him to repeat himself a few times. Like when he was trying to tell you that Draco had invited you out on a double date with himself and Hermione.

You had just woken up from a nap when Theo walked into the Slytherin common room after quidditch practice. He flashed you a breath taking smile and all but skipped up to you as you rubbed your tired eyes. You felt your heart melting in your chest at the sight of your adorable boyfriend.

“Buongiorno Bella.” (good morning beautiful) Theo swooped down and delivered a soft kiss to the side of your face before plopping down next to you on the couch. “Guess what?” You hummed in response as you snuggled deep into his side.

“What’s up Theo?”

“At quidditch practice today, Draco says that you and I, we can go out double with them.”

In your tired brain, Theo’s words made even less sense. You sat up from his side and stared at him with your brows furrowed. “Huh?” Theo stared blankly back at you. He brushed a piece of your hair away from your face.

“Still asleep, Bella?”

You shook your head lightly but it didn’t convince either of you entirely. A chuckle rumbled through Theo and his chest vibrated in laughter.

“Draco says we can go double out with Herminone.”

Now it was your turn to laugh at the way Theo pronounced Hermione’s name. You’d all been friends for about two years now since she and Draco had started dating, but he still couldn’t quite pronounce her name correctly.

Finally deciphering his thick accent and slightly broken, but still cute English, realization dawned upon you. You tried to smother a smile as you stared at your boyfriend in pure adoration. “You mean he invited us to double date with them?”

Theo looked at you for a few seconds before standing up and sighing a little dramatically.

“Mio dio Bella, that’s what I said”

“Mmm of course, Theo.”

So, dating Theodore Nott was not without its challenges. But it also wasn’t without its fun.

1.

It was Mattheo’s birthday so of course the Slytherin common room was filled to the brim with drugs, alcohol, and probably the sluttiest girls in all of Hogwarts. Theo was sitting at a table off in the corner with both of your guys’ drinks and was noticeably uncomfortable in such an environment.

You’d gone to get ice for your sex on the beach when you had a mischevious idea. You scooped a little more ice into the cup and started making your way back to Theo.

You caught sight of Mattheo what was sitting on one of the large couches dead center in the room. He had three girls all over him right now and Lorenzo was giggling uncontrollably as he passed him a joint. Mattheo caught your eye and winked playfully. He liked to flirt with you to rile Theo up a little bit every once in a while.

You finally made it back to your table where Theo was swirling a deep red wine in a glass. His lips quirked up in a small smile as you took your seat next to him. Without speaking, he reached out and pulled your chair impossibly closer to his before throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Ciao Bella.”

Your entire body bloomed at the sound of his thick accent over his husky voice. Warmth settled over you like a fluffy blanket on a snowy morning.

“Ciao Theo.”

The surprise on Theo’s face was more than enough to make you happy that you’d taken up Italian recently. You practiced with Lorenzo in some of your free time and he was a pretty good teacher. You made eye contact with Theo and winked before settling into his side.

Theo immediately became suspicious as you were known for your antics.

“What are you up to Il mio piccolo piantagrane, hm?” (my little troublemaker)

“Nothing Theo, relax.”

He stared at you suspiciously for a few seconds before his body finally loosened.

The opportunity was too great to miss.

You leaned over both of your drinks and dumped ice into your sex on the beach before then dropping a few ice cubes into Theo’s wine.

His reaction was nearly instantaneous.

“Oh! Bella, no! No, no, no!” His lips turned up in disgust and multiple muted expressions left his mouth in what you assumed were Italian swears.

“Che diavolo? Ghiaccio nel vino? No! Il vino è sacro.”

(what the hell? ice in wine? no! wine is sacred.)

A large hand came and ran through his messy curls and the laugh you’d been surprising burst suddenly from your chest. Theo’s eyes snapped to yours and you recognized the mischievous glint.

A squeal left your mouth as you leapt up from your seat and took off around the common room with him hot on your tail.

2.

The second time that you decided to make your poor sweet Italian boyfriend question all decisions to be with you was at dinner one night. You weren’t intentionally teasing him at first as you stared down at your empty plate trying to think of what you wanted.

You glanced over to Theo’s plate next to you and saw a mouthwatering pasta that he’d conjured. You tugged gently on the sleeve of his green sweater and his attention found yours immediately.

“What’s wrong, bellissima?”

“Can you get me some of that, please Theo?”

“Of course.”

He took your plate in his hands and after a few seconds his dish was sitting in front of you. You noted how he made sure there were no tomatoes in yours like there were in his. Theo knew you hated tomatoes. It was so sweet it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do to his little Italian heart.

Almost.

Theo picked up his fork and started to dig into his food before he stopped abruptly. Lorenzo too stopped eating his own food and the pair stared at you incredulously as you shoveled the pasta into your mouth.

“Oh Bella.”

He seemed more horrified than anything else. You loaded more food into your mouth being careful to eat as much as a lady as you could.

“No.” You stared at him blankly with a sheepish look before resuming your meal. “Bella, no. Twirl. Like this,” Theo picked up his fork and expertly swirled the noodles around before bringing it up to his mouth.

You offered him a gentle grin before promptly resuming what you were doing before. From across the table Lorenzo started whisper screaming at Theo in Italian.

“Theo, Cosa c'è che non va nella tua ragazza? Lei mangia la pasta come una bambina!” (what’s wrong with your girlfriend? she eats pasta like a child!)

Theo stared at you astounded as redness crept up his face. Then it finally dawned on him that you were teasing.

“Bella per favoreee.” He dragged out his words with a small smile on his face at your teasing. You both knew that you knew the proper way to eat pasta.

“No more teasing love.” You nodded through your giggles and Theo wrapped a thick arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.

3.

So, you knew that you promised Theo no more teasing last week but when you overheard him and Lorenzo complaining earlier in the most adorable stuttered English you couldn’t help yourself. You were walking down towards the common room to get lunch with the boys.

Theo, Lorenzo, and Mattheo were sitting in the common room all having a discussion. Suddenly you heard your boyfriend’s sweet Italian symphony of a voice shift into one of astonishment. You peeked around the corner and saw both him and Lorenzo staring at Mattheo like he’d just said the most offensive thing ever.

“What do you mean you have the cappuccino in the afternoon, huh?” His fingers came to rub at his temples and you had to stifle your laugh behind your hand. “Puah! cappuccino è solo per la mattina.” (Cappuccino is only for the morning).

Mattheo stared blankly at the two. Finally you decided to step in before the vein in Theo’s forehead burst.

“Theo? I’m ready.”

By the time that you made it to the Great Hall, the boys seemed to have forgotten about their earlier conversation. Mattheo walked quietly in step next to you while Theo and Lorenzo conversed in Italian so quickly your head was spinning.

“Psst. Y/n I have an idea on how to make that little Italian boy of yours blow a fuse.”

(“Maledizione Lorenzo, non credi che se sapessi cosa regalarle non andrei fuori di testa?”)

You cursed yourself that you couldn’t understand what they were saying. After staring at the side of Theo’s handsome face for a few moments longer you let out a disgruntled noise and turned to Mattheo.

“Fine! What?”

And that was how you found yourself in this situation.

Trying your absolute hardest to keep a straight face without looking at Theo at all while you sipped on your cappuccino that you’d conjured in your cup.

“Oh Bella.”

Theo’s familiar distressed tone rang out from next to you. “You cannot be series, amore mio.”

“Do you mean serious, Theo?” Mattheo chimed in with an amused smirk.

Theo made a dismissive Italian noise and waved Mattheo off. He swore under his breath before grabbing the side of your face and turning it to him. “Bellissima, it is too late for a cappuccino!”

You smirked up at your distraught boyfriend and pressed a quick kiss to the softness of his cheek. “I know, amore.”

Theo stared at you before throwing his hands up in the air and turning back towards his lunch. Mattheo’s deep laugh burst out and you couldn’t help yourself but to laugh along with him.

You were so busy laughing you hadn’t noticed that Theo was staring at you with a smile. He was so very in love with you.

+ one time you celebrated Theo’s Italian roots

April 25th was meant to be celebratory. La Festa della Resistenza. And Theodore Nott was stuck at quidditch practice.

Meanwhile, you were scurrying around the common room with Lorenzo trying to set up the perfect surprise for Theo. With Italy’s Liberation Day approaching, you’d noticed Theo had been a little down lately. You knew that it was because he was missing his family.

Normally, his mother would prepare a big feast and the family would sing the song of the resistance, Bella Ciao. You’d taken a floo to his home in Italy and gotten some recipes from his mother directly, all his favorites. And now, you were trying desperately to teach a group of first year Slytherins how to sing the song that you’d been practicing for weeks.

You sighed deeply as you realized the little buggers you bribed with a few galleons each were not at all going to get the song down in time. You conjured your purse and shelled out a few galleons to each child before shooing them out of the common room.

By the time Theo got back from quidditch practice, everything was perfect. You were standing in the center of the room in a deep red dress that you knew was his favorite. When he saw the spread, Theo thought his heart might stop. You looked nothing short of stunning.

“Oh Bella.”

It didn’t hold any of the distress that it normally did. This time his tone was thick with adoration. Theo felt a lump moving up his throat that caught tears behind his eyes. His heart clenched in his chest. This was one of the most thoughtful things that anyone had ever done for him.

Just when he was certain you couldn’t get anymore perfect, your sweet voice rang out in an impossibly beautiful symphony that rivaled Pavarotti.

“Una mattina mi sono alzato

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

Una mattina mi sono alzato

E ho trovato l'invasor.”

Theo held you closer to his chest and pressed his forehead against yours as he joined for the next verse.

“O partigiano, portami via

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

O partigiano, portami via

Che mi sento di morir.”

The two of you swayed as Lorenzo joined and the three of you sang the rest of the song together. When you finished, you all made plates and sat down in the common room.

“When did you learn all of this, Bella?”

You smiled gently at Theo while he stared at you like you were the most perfect being in the world.

“I took a trip to Italy to see your mother a little bit ago. She told me about La Festa della Resistenza the Celebration of the Resistance. She talked about how important it was to Italy’s history and that it marked the Resistance victory in the Italian Civil War. Then when I saw how sad you were to be away from home at this time I knew I had to do something.”

In that moment, Theo knew that there wasn’t anybody he’d ever loved as much as he loved you. He took your face in both of his hands and pressed a deep kiss to your lips.

“This is perfect, bellissima, thank you so much.”

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire #Italian Theodore Nott #slytherin boys x reader

[sttoru]

‘the markings engraved on the wood hold unspoken memories; ones that will last forever.’

☀︎｜tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. you’re married. based on a request i got a while back; reader and toji marking megumi’s changes in height throughout the years to record how much he’s grown.

“oh, it’s already time to do that stuff ‘gain, huh?” toji grunts as he was lazily slumping back on the couch — rough hand cradling the head of his three year old son.

megumi was surprisingly quiet whilst laying on top of toji’s chest. the reason why probably being the dancing fruits and vegetables on the television. those videos was pure entertainment for the little guy.

toji’s eyes follow your movements as you grabbed a sharpie and walked towards the door of the living room. you had purposefully grabbed the special sharpie that existed only to fulfil one, sole task;

which was to mark megumi’s current height on the doorframe.

“yep.” you nod enthusiastically. you were excited to see how much megumi had grown since the last time you measured his height. it was a fun thing to do, yet also bittersweet.

toji looks down at the little boy on his chest. he grins like a proud dad once he notices how content megumi was in his embrace, “c’mon, bud. y’r momma wants to see how much bigger and stronger you grew.”

megumi’s attention was instantly drawn to you at the words uttered to him. in a sudden burst of energy, he jumps off toji’s torso — running your way. he was bouncing up and down like his favorite candy was about to get handed out.

“alright, alright.” you giggle softly and tenderly rub megumi’s cheeks with your fingers. toji gets up from the couch and joins the two of you, crossing his arms over his chest whilst leaning against the wall.

your husband’s focus was elsewhere; his gaze following the previous records that were left on the wooden jamb. there were dates assigned to each line — each holding a precious memory of their own. toji lets out a deep breath, closes his eyes and allows all the happy memories to flood back into his mind for a good moment.

he can’t stop the fond smile from forming on his face as he squats down to megumi’s level, “i bet ya grew a lot considering how much veggies y’ve been eatin lately.”

“yeah! big boy!” megumi grins back at toji — his playful grin resembling your husband’s. his tiny hands pat his belly, causing both his parents to laugh at his actions.

you pull off the cap from the sharpie and properly align your toddler against the doorframe. toji helped megumi stay still for the sake of measuring his height as accurately as possible.

you try to get the perfect dot right atop of megumi’s head. once you get it, you draw a straight line from that point to the end of the jamb. it’s then that you notice the difference between the previous blue line and the newest one you had just placed on the wood.

you stay silent for a few seconds after taking the tip of the sharpie away from the door jamb. there it was; that bittersweet look in your eyes. one that toji knew very well. he understands your emotions and doesn’t ever invalidate them since he feels the same deep within.

that beautiful and proud yet also surprisingly sad feeling. the one you get when you realise just how fast time flies.

“mama! mama! look!” megumi excitedly points out the obvious difference between the two lines, clapping his hands out of pure delight, “i’m shtronger! bwigger!”

the pure face of joy that megumi made, was enough to put a smile on your face as well. you instantly scoop your son up in your arms and hug him tightly to your body. megumi’s nose scrunches up, left cheek squished against your chest with a faint giggle escaping his lips.

toji’s expression was one of content in the meantime. a content man whom had finally found the reason as to why life was worth living.

his hand reaches out, index finger curling around the collar of megumi’s shirt from behind. he gives it a small yank as if trying to catch the boy’s attention. once toji gains exactly that — he opens his arms and motions for a hug;

“what ‘bout papa, kid?” your husband raises an eyebrow. he tries hard to fake a pout, though only ends up looking quite silly, “can papa get a big ol’ h—”

before toji could finish his sentence, megumi unexpectedly jumps into his arms. this causes toji to actually stumble back — falling out of his squat and into a sitting position on the floor. that was quite the surprise, but, a pleasant one it sure was.

the dark-haired man rolls his eyes before nuzzling his nose into megumi’s hair. his strong arms engulf the toddler completely—not wanting to let go any time soon.

“y’re gonna need to eat a lot more so you can grow up ‘n be as tall as me.” toji teases after a few seconds of comfortable silence. he squeezes megumi’s cheek and looks down at him fondly, “i’m sure you’ll even outgrow me ‘n your momma one day.”

the mention of your son one day growing up and becoming taller than you makes that solemn look return to your eyes. your bottom lip sticks out and your eyebrows furrow.

toji notices and regrets saying what he said whilst already knowing you were in a sentimental mood. plus, you always got even more emotional when talking about how quick megumi was growing up. it was like he was a newborn just yesterday.

“wah! mama. . .”

even megumi notices the change in your expression and he huffs. his eyes dart back towards his dad’s and his tiny fists (softly) land on toji’s chest twice. like he was giving out a punishment for ‘upsetting’ you.

“papa make mama sad! papa bad!” megumi sticks his tongue out at toji and runs back towards you — tiny arms circling your neck as he clings onto you in hopes to make you feel better.

your son’s cute antics were enough to lighten up the mood, causing both toji and you to laugh again. even if a tear had already rolled down your cheek from before.

you were about to wipe it away yourself, though was stopped by two hands: a large one and a small one. one belonging to toji and the other to megumi.

“aht aht,” toji narrows his eyes at his kid, “i’m the one who made y’r momma cry, so i gotta be the one comfortin’ her to make it right.”

“no! papa made mama sad. i make mama happy ‘gain. not papa.” megumi does the same back, though adds fuel to the fire by sticking his tongue out like earlier.

and. . . there they go again.

your husband and son go back and forth about who gets to wipe your tear away and comfort you. you knew toji was competitive - even with his own son - but it was funny to see how he still argued with a three year old like it was some serious business.

you couldn’t even be sad any longer as the squabbling makes you giggle — though also leaves you with a giddy feeling in your chest.

time seems to slow down when you’re engrossed in rememberable moments like these.

and all you could do was wish that they would last forever.

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk x y/n #toji x y/n #BLEGH i hate the ending but.. 🤷🏽‍♀️

[bimbobaggins69]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌.

virgin eddie munson x experienced fem reader

summary: you go into the boys locker room with a plan to steal the polaroids your now ex boyfriend took of you to show off to his friends, but the last thing you suspected was to be met with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and his very big friend.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ minors dni, no use of y/n (use of pet names), non consensual sharing of nudes, reader technically cheats, big dick eddie, slight fingering, oral (m receiving) unprotected p in v, cream pie, fluffff.

authors note: I feel like I haven’t written a one shot in awhile, so…hope you like. As always thank you to my lovely beta’s @take-everything-you-can & @xxhellfiregirlxx <3

wc: 3.4k

You are fuming, absolutely seething with rage.

You couldn't believe your boyfriend, scratch that ex boyfriend would do this to you. How could someone swear to be ‘so in love’ with you but turn around and do this? It just didn’t make sense, but you only have yourself to blame.

All of your friends warned you about Andy, said he was a pig and would just use you as another notch for his belt, but you wanted to believe you were different or that maybe you could’ve changed him. Instead you allowed him to take very x-rated polaroids of you, that he in turn showed to all of his basketball buddies, who told their cheerleader girlfriends, who then told you he’d spent all of gym bragging and showing them off in the locker room.

So…you’d devised a very impulsive and hell bent plan; while they were all outside running the annual mile, you decided you would sneak into the locker room, find Andy's locker, then you would break into it and steal the polaroids back. It was a fool proof plan… or so it seemed in your frenzy of rage.

But as you walk into the quiet, cold, sterile room filled with green lockers. You quickly realize you're not alone.

“Oh my god!”

“Oh fuck!”

Was said in unison as you and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson locked eyes, but they didn't stay connected for long as yours roamed his body, all the way down to the biggest cock you had ever seen in your life. Not that you’ve seen so many, but you’ve had your fair share of hook ups and I mean c’mon you're not a prude, you do watch porn.

But, even so… his cock was still bigger than anything you’ve come in contact with, albeit on screen and off.

“I’m so sorr–”

“What are you do-”

You both say again, voices overlapping as Eddie catches the wide eyed stare you're giving his flaccid manhood.

He quickly covers himself with his hands, his cheeks pinkening in embarrassment.

Eddie was rather dense when it came to his size, considering he was a virgin and he’s been using the locker room while it was empty since he started at Hawkins High, not wanting to give the jocks anymore fuel for their relentless fire. He didn’t have much to compare it to, nor did he want to participate in any dick measuring contests. The only porn he had hidden under his bed were his dirty fantasy magazines but all the dicks in there were monster cocks, literally.

“What are you doing in here?” Eddie huffed in annoyance as your eyes continued to burn a hole into his now covered groin.

“I um, I–” You couldn't even find the words to explain why you were in the boy’s locker room, not one that would make any sense to him, anyway.

“You what, huh? Spit it out.” Eddie didn’t mean to snap at you, but he was already in a foul mood. He had been present when Andy was showing off your goods to his ogling friends, who all agreed he was a ‘lucky guy’.

Eddie patiently waited for them all to retreat out and onto the track so he could finally shower and get dressed back into his all black attire. Eddie, oh lovesick Eddie had been nursing a mammoth sized crush on you since your freshman year. So, to say he couldn't help but roll his eyes and clench his fists at not only the thought of all these other dudes getting to see you, but also the fact that you even picked a shit stain like Andy Clayton to give an ounce of your time to, really pissed him off.

“I came to try and get something back from my ex.” You bashfully murmur as your eyes once again find the metalheads.

A remorseful look passes over Eddie's face at your revelation, as you both continue to stare at each other you quickly notice his wet hair has been dripping down onto his tattooed chest, the scene makes your breath hitch and you want so badly to clench your thighs from the heat that's been ignited in your center.

Eddie’s confidence begins to grow as he notices the flush of your cheeks and the way your breathing went ragged as your eyes wandered.

“Ya’ know, if i didn't know any better i'd say you’re checking me out?” He declares with a cocky smirk.

“What? I-I’m not-” You stutter before shutting your eyes tight, as if it’d shield you of your utter humiliation. You quickly exhale in an attempt to rid yourself of the mix of arousal and embarrassment that has simultaneously filled your body.

“Okay, I was… but I didn’t mean to, I'm sorry.” You whisper as your eyes meander the tiles under your black loafers and white slouch socks.

“You didn't mean to check out my dick?” Eddie says in bewilderment as his brows raise, disappearing behind his shaggy, wet bangs.

He’s surprised he has the confidence to stand so close to you with his dick literally in his hand, but watching you stutter and squirm has got to be the highlight of his whole high school career.

Well this and that time he, Gareth and Jeff left that flaming bag of shit on Mr. Higgins doorstep. Yeah, watching that old fuck struggle to put out a burning bag filled with dog shit was definitely up there.

“I mean, I did mean to, it’s just– nevermind, I'm sorry. I’ll leave.” Your words fly out of your mouth before you begin to turn and leave, back out the way you came without fulfilling the mission you were on just five minutes ago.

You didn’t even make it two steps before Eddie was gently grabbing your bicep, his hands no longer covering his cock that now grows hard between his scrawny thighs.

“It’s just what?…Color me curious sweetheart.” He says as his calloused fingers slowly run down your arm and back to his side.

Sweetheart, you liked hearing him call you that. Jesus, what is happening?

“Well um, your dicks like really big.” You say as your eyes fall back to his package, you lick your lips at the sight of it twitching at your words.

“Really?” The way he questions you is confusing because there is absolutely no way he doesn’t know he’s hung like a goddamn horse.

“You’re joking right? You’re gonna act like you don’t know your cock is massive?” You say with a tilt of your head.

His eyebrows shoot back up in amusement, the cocky smile on his face a complete rival to his rapidly beating heart.

You move closer into his space, looking up into his innocent looking doe eyes.

Eddie Munson is anything but innocent, right? I mean he sells drugs for fuck sake! You’ve even heard about him grabbing a cheerleader's tit during a drug deal, of course she was trying to get him to lower the price, but still…well now that you come to think of it, that's really the only sexual thing you’ve heard about him. There’s no way he could be a… yeah right.

“Can I ask you a question?” You whisper as you move in even closer, moving a now damp, stray strand of hair behind his reddening ear.

“S-sure.” He whimpers when your long nails lightly scratch down his jaw, which he quickly covers with a cough.

You bit at your lips trying to hold back a giggle at the noise that went straight between your legs.

Okay, fuck those pictures! What better way to get over a guy than to get under a new one…right? Especially one your ex hates…who has a huge cock…I mean this shits a no brainer… you’re gonna fuck Eddie Munson.

“Are you a virgin?” You question sweetly as you ‘innocently’ play with the hem of your plaid dress, the white turtleneck underneath making your already hot and bothered body, burn more with the intense electricity radiating between the both of you.

“I uh, how’d you know?” He sighs as his shoulders drop in exasperation, not at you but at himself for being so fucking obvious.

“Well, with that third leg I never would’ve guessed…but you have this innocence in your eyes that’s kinda telling.” You giggle as your eyes meet his still hard cock, and all you wanna do now is wrap your hand around it and watch him lose his mind.

Eddie throws his head back and laughs into the open air of the now humid locker room. He whispers third leg to himself, nodding his head as if he was hearing that term for the first time. He was.

“Do you wanna stay a virgin, Eddie?” You whisper as the tips of your fingers gently trail over the patch of hair on his lower stomach, just above the spot your hand is aching to touch, that he’s aching for you to touch.

Two things in this moment make the metalhead equally lose his mind, he might actually cum untouched if he’s being honest. Your hand is so close to his throbbing cock, just a few centimeters down and you’d be brushing against his pink, sensitive tip. And hearing you say his name. Wait, you know his name.

That alone is an aphrodisiac for him.

“No, I-I don’t.” He admits before swallowing hard, his damp Adam's apple bobbing at the motion.

“Can I kiss you?” He surprises himself as the question leaves his mouth.

“Please.” you whine with desperation, making Eddie groan as his lips find yours in a frenzy.

Your fingers slowly trail down, finally wrapping your dainty hand around the sheer girth and length that is Eddie’s cock.

Another whimper falls from between his pretty lips, but this time it's unashamed and without a cough to cover it up. No, he wants you to hear what you’re doing to him.

“That feel good, baby?” You murmur into his mouth between the smacks that echo off the barren walls.

“Fuck, yeah mhm, it does.” He rushes out awkwardly, making you giggle into the kiss.

He wraps his arms around you, in an air of confidence and pulls you in closer, chests now flush as your hand continues to softly tug at his cock.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Eddie?” You whisper as you lean your forehead against his, wet bangs be damned.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for a very long time, princess.” He admits without much thought.

You break away from him, eyes boring into his as you take in his confession. You step back and Eddie’s heart shatters as he curses himself for opening his big, stupid mouth and scaring you off. But before he could get down on his knees and grovel for you to just ignore him and stay, keep paying attention to him. You take his hand and lead him to the wooden bench towards the back of the locker room.

He follows you like a lost puppy before you’re gently pushing at his chest, a silent instruction for him to sit down. He quickly takes the hint, clumsily plopping down onto the stiff wooden bench.

He looks to you for direction, those innocent eyes blinking up at you and goddammit if it doesn't chip away at the walls your now ex boyfriend has helped you build. But, that's a thought for another day.

You fall to your knees, cold tiles digging into your skin as you wrap your hand back around his cock in a wildness that you’d never felt for any of your previous partners.

“Holy shit.” Eddie spits out in disbelief. This has to be a wet dream, there's absolutely now way this is happening to him…he’s never this lucky, and in typical eddie cynicism, he looks around to make sure no one is filming or waiting to pop out and laugh at him or better yet, to tell him this was all some elaborate prank, get the freak all riled up just to leave him high and dry.

The thought is quickly extinguished when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, gently sucking before you're removing your soft, pillowy muscles that are now coated in his precum, you alluringly flick your tongue across them gathering it all, just to get a good taste of him. His soul just about leaves his body and you've barely even started.

You take him back into your mouth, but this time without mercy as you relax your throat, slowly moving down inch by delicious inch as you try not to gag, his tip now bullying your uvula like his own personal punching bag.

“Oh, oh fuck, please. I-I…” He stammers as his hands flex and clench beside him, too afraid to run his fingers through your hair like he so badly wants to.

You fuck his aching cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down, over and over before you’re popping off of him, placing a sweet kiss to his tip then standing back up onto your feet, your knees burning from the pressure that was placed on them, red indents now take their place leaving very little mystery as to what you’ve just done.

“I need your cock so bad Eddie.” You moan into his mouth before kissing him, it’s deep and needy and you never want to kiss anyone else like this for as long as you live.

“Use me, please. J-just fuck, just use me pretty girl.” Eddie whimpers, before he begins attacking your neck, sucking hard before soothing the skin with his tongue. You couldn’t care less if he leaves marks, in fact you want him to mark you up, make you his.

You thread your hand into his still damp hair, pushing him closer as he begins to suck at a particularly sensitive spot, just below your ear.

Eddie places one last tender kiss there, before he removes his face from your neck. He confidently lifts the hem of your dress up and over the tops of your thighs, exposing your slick soaked, red panties. The metalhead swipes a finger over the thin, lace fabric that clings to your hips.

“Can I take these off?” He asks as his eyes continue to bore into the growing wet patch in the center of your covered slit.

“Mhm.” A high pitch whine escapes from the depths of your throat at how harshly he tore them off from between your legs. Needy boy.

“Fuckin’ aye.” Eddie murmurs to himself at the sight of your glistening cunt right in front of him, so pretty and wet just for him. He wanted to run his fingers through the damp, trimmed coils on your mound but quickly decided against it, he didn’t want you thinking that was weird.

“H-have you ever seen a pussy before?” You chirp up, bashful as you grab his hand and move it towards your soaked slit.

He clears his throat before answering- “just in magazines.” He admits as his cheeks tinge a pretty shade of pink.

He’s embarrassed by his revelation, but you can’t help but think that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You work his fingers through your slit, rubbing at your own clit with his hand and it all just fuels that fire growing deep in your belly.

“Oh!” You moan as your eyes gently roll back, you swipe his finger through your wetness again, “you feel that? Feel how wet you make me Ed’s?” You whisper as your eyes now hold his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful! I-I need to fuck you or im gonna cum. You can’t just talk to me like that, princess.” He mutters as he loses all resolve, not that he had much to begin with.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper into his ear before you’re placing a gentle kiss there. You turn around, hand grabbing onto his still hard cock, you lower yourself into his lap, pink tip already prodding at your hole as your back becomes flush with his chest, you lay your head back against his shoulder and burrow it into his neck, both of you moaning in unison as you sink onto him, slowly.

He’s so big it’s like he's ripping you in half, but you welcome the burn. The pleasure and pain of it all makes your cunt drip even more, further creating less pain and a whole lot more pleasure.

“Mmf.” Eddie moans into the side of your face, as you’re finally seated flush in his lap, cock buried deep inside your aching pussy, you clench around the intrusion, making Eddie gasp and whine.

You smile back at him before you’re doing it again.

“Fuck, do you want this to be over before it starts? Huh?” He says threw his teeth, as he grabs your chin to reprimand you. And you want nothing more than to play further into that dynamic.

Andy was a shit lay compared to this, Eddie Munson a virgin is fucking you better than your ex, and if that doesn’t speak volumes as to how the relationship was. The thought makes you feel stupid.

Before you can fester anymore on your dumb mistake, Eddie begins to fuck up into you, all his patience seeping through the air vents that you now realize are on and blowing, creating a chill throughout the room and goosebumps to trickle over your body.

His big hands grab at your waist, roughly bouncing you up and down on his cock as he follows the same rhythm. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths as you bring your hand to the nape of his neck and holding on, as you get absolutely railed in the boys locker room.

Not only is the location turning you on but the thought of being caught by anyone, especially Andy, has got your cunt dripping and making a mess of the metalheads balls.

“Shit, you’re so wet and warm and so fucking tight, baby.” Eddie huffs as his words begin to spill out with no filter, theres no fucking way he can think about what he’s saying before he says it with you clenching around him like that.

“I remember the first time I fucked my fist thinking about you; you wore that little jean skirt with those fucking red cowboy boots a-and the tightest little white shirt, I could see your nipples perfectly. Didn't even bother to wear a bra, just wanted everyone to see, didnt you? Mmm, bad girl.” He starts his confession out whiney and whimpering until he gets to the bad girl with a growl and an extra hard snap of his hips that make your eyes cross in complete carnal delight.

“That’s so fu-ucking hot that you think about me when you jack off, fuck.” You stutter as your body continues to be used as Eddie’s personal little fuck toy.

“Yeah? But I don’t have to do that anymore do I? You’re gonna let me fuck this tight little cunt whenever I want, aren’t you baby?” The confident rasp in his voice is a complete 360 to the awkward, innocent boy he was just seconds ago. But, the way your pussy tightens around him tells him you fucking love it, so he files that information away for next time.

“Yes, yes whenever you want Eddie!” You wail as your legs begin to shake, your cunt clenching around him as your nails dig into his thighs that continue to slap up into the backs of yours. The sounds were filthy, but they egged you both on as your highs so quickly approached.

“Ed- I’m cumming, oh my god!” You sob, fully convinced someone has had to have heard you both by now. But you don’t care, how could you when the most intense pleasure was coursing through your body, turning you into a twitching mess.

“Fuck, me too baby, wher-” He doesnt even get to finish, before you’re begging him to cum inside you. Of course he obliges, eyes rolling back into his head and cock throbbing as his heavy load shoots deep inside you.

“Goddammit.” He whispers into your neck after you've both come down from your panting highs. The breath he exhales tickles you, making you giggle. His arms wrap around your front, holding you tightly before burrowing his head deeper into the skin between your jaw and clavicle, he blows a raspberry and you can't help the shriek that leaves your mouth as he continues to tease you.

“So, you want help getting those pictures back?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #virgin eddie munson