#people are dropping their ao3 links and everything

[penny00dreadful]

So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️

We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!

AO3 link for those asking! 🖤

Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.

That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.

The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.

And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.

If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.

But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.

Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.

The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.

A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.

Her people.

Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.

The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.

“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.

The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”

The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”

“Eddie, what-”

Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.

“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”

Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.

Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.

“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”

“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.

“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”

“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”

“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”

“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.” 

“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.

Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.

“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.

“Oh shit. This is your friend?”

Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“He’s… he’s really pretty.”

That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”

“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”

Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”

Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”

“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.

“Okay.”

“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”

“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.

“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”

“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”

“Inklings? Is that the place?”

Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.

“Is it far?”

“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”

“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?

“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered. 

“I think… I think I just want to get home.”

“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.” 

He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it. 

This fucking guy.

He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.

“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.

“Likewise.”

“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.

“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”

“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.

She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.

“Shall we?”

Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.

"So."

"So."

"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"

“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”

“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it because of a bad ex?”

Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”

Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.

Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.

“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”

Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.

Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.

He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.

“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.

“Yeah, sure.”

They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.

She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”

Robin, where are you?

Are you okay?

I’m on the way.

Please be okay.

Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.

“Robbie.”

Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”

“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”

“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.

Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’

Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’

#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #fanfic #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fic #stranger things fic #modern au #eddie and robin #platonic stobin #robin and steve #finding safety in people through pride flags #I am SUPPOSED to be TAKING A BREAK from WRITING so I don't BURN OUT #But THIS would NOT leave me ALONE #what's the ship name for platonic eddie and robin? #is there one? #THERE IS ONE #platonic edbin #safety fic

[starryeyedjanai]

bad boys do it better

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: modern au tags: dating apps, innuendo, bad flirting read on ao3

✿

Eddie finally opens Tinder after downloading it in a fit of desperation.

He's tried everything but these stupid apps—bars and clubs and pottery classes and rock climbing—trying to find someone he can connect with.

But he's mostly found guys that string him along with whispered sweet nothings and half-promises they don't intend to follow through on.

So he makes his profile and then promptly fumbles and drops his phone because— no fucking way.

There's no way this is real life.

There's no fucking way the first guy to pop up is Steve fucking Harrington, his unfortunate and longest lasting crush in high school.

He picks up his phone and sees Steve's face staring back at him, unassuming, a bright, cheery smile on his face.

Steve, 28 2 miles away "Hope you like bad boys because I have it on dvd and vhs" Interests: baseball, basketball, live music, movies

He taps to get to the next photo and lets out a shaky breath—the shorts of what can only be his Halloween costume are so short, exposing hairy thighs that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.

The next photo is a snapchat picture of him grinning wide, cradling what might be the world's ugliest dog, the text across the screen reading my nephew is so handsome 🤩🤩🤩.

The last is an obligatory shirtless mirror pic, not showing off washboard abs, but the soft, toned skin of his stomach.

He closes the app, sets his phone down, and breathes through his nose.

This can't be real, right? In what world would Steve be the first person in a sea of profiles in San Francisco of all places?

Eddie expected him to chase after Nancy Wheeler when she went to Boston, but he didn't stick around long enough in Hawkins to find out if they ever rekindled their will-they-won't-they relationship.

Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he found his match and just forgot to delete Tinder. Because there's just no way Eddie has this kind of luck.

He opens up Instagram and searches for Steve and finds him right away because they're probably still Facebook friends.

He scrolls through his profile and deflates a little, because all of the pictures on Tinder are from his Instagram. Which means it's probably much more likely that someone is catfishing using Steve's pictures.

Because the Steve from high school wasn't into men. And he's hot enough for someone to use his pictures to scam people or whatever.

He opens up Tinder again and his thumb is swiping right before he thinks about what he's doing.

It's a match!

Okay, now he knows it's a catfish. Or maybe it's a bot.

There's no world in which Steve Harrington would swipe right on him in the twenty minutes it's been since he created his account.

He types a message to "Steve" saying so are you a bot or just a catfish?

He doesn't get a response right away, so he clicks out of the messages, looking at profiles of what are hopefully actual people he can connect with.

His phone buzzes when the message from Steve comes in.

Hi3 Eddiems, cl!ck th3 linkin my proffile to . achat I am waitin9

He rolls his eyes and goes back to perusing profiles. It's not like he thought it was really Ste-

His phone pings with another message and he clicks back into the chat immediately.

That was a joke. There's not even a link in my profile

Eddie's heart beats a little faster, his fingers typing out a response.

So a catfish then?

Why do you think I'm a catfish?????

Because I know the guy in those pictures and there's no way hes into men. That guy was a jock extraordinaire in high school and very straight

You're awfully judgey for someone who was so anti-conformity in high school. Whos to say I haven't changed?

Or like, learned new things about myself?

Eddie's breath stutters in his throat.

Also you didn't really know me since we never talked.

Okay, I mean. It's pretty easy to guess that I was counterculture in high school by looking at me. So I'm still on the fence about the catfish thing

How about we meet up then? So you can see me in all my nearing-30 glory

And watch bad boys on dvd and vhs with you?

Dude, I am not inviting you to my house on the first date

That's a third date kind of thing

Oh yeah? Is it a back-to-back feature? We start with the vhs then move to dvd?

He can't believe he's entertaining this. A catfish wouldn't offer to meet up unless they thought Eddie wouldn't call their bluff. He kind of wants to see where this is going.

No see, we start with the dvd playing in the living room and then when we inevitably start being bad boys🥵 in the middle of the movie, we can pick it back up on vhs in my room later

To be clear, we stop the movie, right? I'm not sure bad boys has a soundtrack meant for the kind of activities we'd be doing

Oh for sure. I'd even put on my "let's get it on" playlist. As a treat.

Eddie can't help but grin. Even if this guy is a catfish, this is maybe the most fun he's had talking to someone in a long time.

Are you serious about meeting up?

Uh yeah, I can't have you thinking I'm a catfish forever

What's your favorite brewery?

Cellarmaker

Wanna do tomorrow afternoon at like 2 when it's not busy?

That sounds perfect

He isn't sure if it's really Steve or if he's going to be met with someone else or stood up, but at least he'll get to drown his sorrows if it doesn't work out.

Well—he's unsure until he gets the 'stharrington started following you' notification on Instagram a few minutes later.

He screams into his pillow so loud his neighbor thumps on the wall.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddieholidaydrabbles #st ficlet #janai.doc

[melannen]

How To Make Your Own Fanfiction Archive, In Just Ten Easy Steps

As the go-to "person who knows about AO3" for quite a few people who read fanfic but aren't really linked-in to wider fandom culture, I've fielded a lot of questions about how to do certain things on AO3 to which my best answer is "you should really start your own archive!" I think, in general, more fans starting their own small archives would be a net good for fandom. AO3 was never meant to be the only archive for all fandom, or even the main archive, and the more spread out and backed up we are the more resilient we are.

But of course I have to be reminded that a lot of fans these days don't really have any idea how little "you should start your own archive!" really involves. (Also, that I should practice what I preach.) So I am now making my own fanfiction archive, and writing up this post as I do it to tell people how to make theirs!

Go to https://neocities.org/ and sign up for an account. It only needs a username (which will also be your website address), password, and email. Pick a username that will be related to your archive's title!

Choose the free account option (if you ever need more than what the free account offers for a text-only archive, you should probably look into graduating from neocities.) This should take you to a menu of "how to make a website" tutorials. You should do them! They're useful skills. But let's get your archive running first.

Hit the big red Edit Site button, or open the menu under your username and select "Edit Site".

Select the "Index.html" file to edit. You're now in an HTML Editor. Congrats, you're a web developer c. 1999!

Find where it has text between the < title> tags. Delete the filler text, and put in the title of your new archive. This text will be what shows on the tab when people go to your archive.

Find where it has text between the < h1 > tags. This will be big header text at the top of your page. Put the title of your archive here again. If you have no experience with HTML, you should read over the other sample text. It covers the basic basics very well! Once you've done that, you can delete everything else between the < /h1> tag and the < /body> tag. Save your index.html file.

Get an HTML file for a fanfic you would like to add to your archive. If it's on AO3, you can use the html download option built into AO3. If you have it as a word processor/google docs file, you should have the option to save as an html file. Save that html file to your computer.

Go back to Edit Site on Neocities and go to "upload". Find the html file you saved and upload it. (You can also drag and drop files to upload.)

The file you uploaded should now be showing with your other neocities files. Right-click on the title and select "copy link".

Go in to edit index.html again. Under where you put your header text, type < br> < a href=" . Then paste in the link you copied. Then type "> Then put in the title of the fic. Then type < /a> . Then save the index page again when you're done. You can do this for every fanfic you have.

Congratulations! You now have your very own personal private fanfiction archive that you are 100% in charge of and make all the rules for. It's at least as good as half the ones I was reading on when I started reading fanfiction and will serve its function well as a way to let people read your fic. You can link to it from anywhere you want! (Including your AO3 profile.)

Blogpost version, with FAQs and discussion

Anyway, here's my beautiful new fanfiction archive made using this tutorial:

Melannen's Fanfiction Archive

(I am honestly way more disproportionately proud of finally making that than I expected to be. It's nice to have your own archive.)

If you make one, share it here ! I want to see!

#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic archive #how-to #tumblr what are you doing to my angle brackets #why would you do that what's wrong with you

[cybrsan]

Light It Up! — K.HJ, P.SH

STORY SUMMARY: The year is 2077, and the world is a lawless dystopia where tech giants and major corporations hold all the power. Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa are an infamous criminal duo who have made names for themselves fighting against the "techno brainwashing" of society. Discovering they're on the brink of getting caught, they decide to go out with a bang—and who better to help them than their favorite plaything?

PAIRING: Kim Hongjoong x F!Reader x Park Seonghwa

RATING/GENRE: M ; smut ; criminal / cyberpunk / dystopian AU

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Arson, breaking and entering, clubbing, alcohol + drug use, pet names (doll, precious), rioting, violence

NSFW WARNINGS: Choking, creampie, cum stuffing, cunnilingis, deep throating, exhibitionism, fire play, fingering, free use, hair-pulling, knife play (light), multiple orgasms, play party, public sex, spitroasting, sub drop, threesome, overstimulation

A/N: Don't blame me, blame the MATZ m/v.

LINKS: Masterlist, cross-posted on AO3.

“And… there!” 

After days of meticulous planning, organizing, and making shady, back-alley deals, it’s finally done. The last camera is in position—everything is ready for the big event. All that’s left for you to do is step back and admire your work.  

Switching on your illegally procured holodeck, you press a few buttons and watch as the space around you completely transforms. What was once an abandoned warehouse is now a club that could rival any in the city center. Neon lights pulse to heavy synth, serving bots whiz from place to place,  and the makeshift bar looks inviting enough with rows of expensive bottles on display. Whether or not the liquor in the bottles is worth the price, well… Hopefully people will be too distracted to notice. 

The focal point, the one thing you are most proud of, is the transparent stage that extends at least 15 feet above the dance floor. Taking in the grandeur of it all is more than enough to get you excited for what's to come. You're certain that Hongjoong and Seonghwa will put on the performance of the century. 

Today is incredibly important for both of them, and the fact that they have trusted you enough to include you more than makes up for the long hours and strenuous work. They’re currently out setting up their "grand finale," which they have been painstakingly cryptic about. You have your suspicions, not that you need or even want to know the specifics. 

A low whistle pierces the air. "You really outdid yourself this time, doll." 

You turn to look at Seonghwa as he enters, and your heart practically skips a beat when you take in his appearance—he must have changed in preparation for the big event. His hair, pulled away from his face, lets you focus on his features; dark eyes, full lips, all beautifully accented by his smoky makeup. His outfit is one you haven't seen on him before, but it suits him perfectly, from the gold chains hanging around his neck to the deep cut of his silk shirt.  

"Thanks, Hwa," you reply bashfully, dusting off your hands on your jeans. "Just trying to do my part." 

He approaches you, a smirk tugging at his lips. The way he stares at you, drinks you in… it makes you feel like a prey animal who has found itself in the sights of a predator. You blush and cast your gaze to the floor, suddenly fascinated by the specks of dirt at your feet. 

"And you have done it spectacularly." He lifts your chin with his pointer finger, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "I think you deserve a reward." 

Seonghwa drops his gaze to your lips for just a moment before he leans in, closing the space between you with an almost agonizing slowness. The kiss is gentle and commanding all at once and you shiver, immediately pulling him closer. The fatigue, the stress—all of it melts away.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling on it with just enough force to make you gasp. His tongue slides expertly against yours, the taste of him something sweet and darkly rich, like cherry liquor. It’s addictive. But the moment ends too soon for your liking, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Seonghwa doesn’t pull away entirely, resting his forehead against yours as he lifts a hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. He lets his touch linger as he traces a path down your neck, lithe fingers playing with the necklace dangling above your chest. Three dainty, silver hearts. One for you, one for Seonghwa, and one for—

The rev of a motorcycle engine cuts through the air, and your head snaps toward the sound just in time to see Hongjoong park his bike at the door. He takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair which you’re surprised to see is freshly dyed. It almost makes you laugh; of course even as he’s out running errands for his coup de grâce, he finds time for fashion.

“Not starting the party without me, I hope?”

Hongjoong’s heeled boots click pleasantly atop the concrete flooring as he walks over to the two of you. His synthetic fur coat is a bright orange, the complete opposite of what one might expect a criminal on the run to wear. But both he and Seonghwa have never been ones for hiding.

“Never,” Seonghwa replies, clapping a hand on the back of the younger’s neck. “Did you get it done?”

Hongjoong scoffs in a teasing manner. “Did you doubt I would?”

“Of course not.” Seonghwa squeezes Hongjoong’s neck once before letting go and clapping his hands together. “Looks like it’s time for the show.”

A few hours later, the party is in full swing. The once-empty warehouse is now filled to the brim with people dressed in cloaks and masks for the sake of anonymity. Some are on the dance floor, grinding against each other, while others have drifted toward the bar, downing shots and laughing.

Toward the back of the room, there's a group huddled around a table, huffing glitter, black lace, and who knows what other kinds of drugs. Meanwhile, others are tangled together on couches, lost in the throes of ecstasy. The air is so thick with the smell of smoke and sweat that it almost makes you dizzy.

A hand wraps around your neck from behind, pulling you against a warm body, and you gasp. “That’ll be us later, precious,” Hongjoong whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear. Your nervousness ebbs away, immediately replaced by eagerness.  “Do you like watching them? Or maybe you’d prefer to be the one being watched?”

You lean back against him, the hand around your neck a welcome pressure. “Both,” you breathe.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “Good.” 

He separates from you, and you turn to face him. He seems so confident, so excited, that it’s hard to believe he and Seonghwa are about to paint targets on both of their backs. Hit by a wave of anxiety, you lean forward and kiss him. He immediately reciprocates, nipping at your bottom lip and eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

Kissing him is always different than kissing Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s kisses are controlled, with a hidden power brewing behind them. There’s always a promise of more, a hint at what is to come when he finally lets go. On the other hand, Hongjoong kisses with reckless abandon. He is uninhibited, always ready to devour you whole. When he pulls back, a string of spit hangs between you before snapping.

“You nervous?” You nod, and he gently tweaks your chin between two fingers. “Don’t be. Those tech bastards have no idea what we have in store.”

“I just want the two of you to be safe.”

“And we will be,” he assures you. "After everything goes up in flames. Trust me, precious. Trust us.”

“I do.” And it’s true. You trust them with everything that you have.

“That’s our girl.” He kisses you again. “It’s time to go live.”

You take out your holodeck, and with the click of a button, all the cameras you set up switch on. You hurriedly switch channels through all the local stations, thrilled to see that it worked and the entire club is being streamed live to every device in the city. 

You stop the music and make the lights go out, causing a hush to fall over the crowd. You shine one beam of light directly onto the stage and you watch as Seonghwa steps out to address the throng of people below. He is captivating and has no problem commanding all of the power in the room. 

“Welcome one and all,” Seonghwa begins, voice booming over the speakers. “If you’re here, it means you are brave enough to fight against the corporations that enslave our society!”  

Hongjoong steps up next to him, and while he’s smaller in stature, he exudes no less power. However, he stays silent as Seonghwa continues, “We will not be silenced any longer. Tonight, we raise our voices in defiance; we will no longer bow down to those who seek to control us!” 

The crowd explodes into thunderous applause but immediately falls silent when Hongjoong raises a hand. "But tonight isn’t just about the revolution—it is also a celebration of our freedom, our individuality, and our unity. So let loose because everyone in the city is watching and we all know that, deep down, they wish they were us!” 

Cheers and shouts fill the room once again as everyone raises their glasses in solidarity. Your heart swells with pride as you take it all in. You have become a part of something far greater than yourself and, just like your boys, you are willing to do whatever it takes to see it through to victory.

You switch the music and lights back on and the party resumes in full force. People seem to go even harder than they were before, playing up their hedonism for the cameras. Seonghwa and Hongjoong have disappeared into the crowd, likely to mingle and spread their message one-on-one. 

Seonghwa favors the dance floor, hypnotizing those around him as he moves. A contented smile tugs at the corner of his lips as his hips sway to the beat, as beautiful as he is provocative. He flits from person to person, holding them close as he whispers into their ears. He occasionally catches you watching him, always making sure to tease you with a wink. 

On the other hand, Hongjoong stalks the perimeter of the room, moving from group to group. His skill lies in charming people with his words, and tonight is no different. Everyone who speaks to him smiles and laughs, completely enamored with everything he says. He shakes hands, claps shoulders, and you have no doubt that if people weren’t loyal before, they will be when he’s through.

You stick to one of the quieter corners of the room in order to keep an eye on the cameras. You need to make sure that everything is running smoothly both in and out of the club; the last thing you need is for someone to reveal your location or try to hack into your network and ruin everything. You also keep a close eye on your boys, making sure they stay safe.

It’s past midnight by the time they come and find you. Hongjoong sits on your left, placing a hand on your thigh as he leans toward you and kisses your cheek. His lips linger a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he purrs, “You should be out there, dancing, having fun.”

“I am having fun,” you say, taking the champagne glass offered to you by Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa sits on your right, throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “You would be having even more fun if you put down the holodeck.” 

“But—”

Hongjoong takes it from you, throwing it haphazardly onto the cushion beside him. “Don’t argue.” 

He leans forward again, this time lightly nibbling your earlobe with his teeth. You gasp, knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip on your glass out of instinct. Seonghwa watches the two of you with half-lidded eyes, his hand trailing down your side and slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to trace patterns over your flushed skin.

“It’s a night for celebration, doll,” he murmurs. “You have done your job. The only thing we need from you now is… well, you.” He squeezes your hip and you jump slightly. “The badges will be here in a little over an hour according to one of my sources. While not as long as I’d like, it gives us just enough time to have a celebration of our own.”  

Your thighs clench in anticipation—you know exactly what he’s hinting at. 

"Lead the way, then," you say, setting your half-empty glass down.

Seonghwa’s gaze meets Hongjoong’s over your head, an unspoken agreement passing between them. They stand up and pull you toward the dance floor, surrounding you, one at your front and one at your back. You sway between them to a slow, seductive rhythm, closing your eyes as you let yourself enjoy their attention.

Seonghwa’s hands rest on your waist, pulling you against him as he starts to move his hips in tandem with yours, grinding against you. Meanwhile, Hongjoong cups your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip. His eyes are dark and intense as he captures your mouth with his own in a searing kiss. 

Seonghwa’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he watches Hongjoong devour you. He keeps one hand on your hip while the other snakes around to cup the back of Hongjoong’s neck, causing the younger to moan into your mouth at the touch. Now with a possessive grip on you both, Seonghwa gets to work nipping and marking the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

The room seems to disappear around you as they continue to explore you, their mouths and hands feeling like they are everywhere at once. It's intoxicating, even more so than the champagne you were drinking earlier. You feel Seonghwa’s hand trail even lower, disappearing under your waistline, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin.

You gasp and Hongjoong laughs against you, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Let’s give them a good show, hm?” 

You let the two of them drag you onto the stage, cheeks ablaze as you realize exactly what they’re planning. You’re hyper aware of the fact that you are being watched; even though most of the club-goers are lost in their own pleasure, the viewers that are steaming have nothing better to do than keep their eyes locked on you. 

Seonghwa clicks his tongue, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “Look at our girl, acting so shy.” His fingers find your heart necklace, tugging at it just hard enough to make you gasp. “As if wearing this doesn’t mean we can do whatever we want to you, whenever and wherever we want.” 

Hongjoong takes a switchblade out of his pocket, flipping it open with a maniacal grin on his face. He uses it to cut away your clothes, exposing your body for everyone to see. Your knees shake and whether it is out of anxiety or anticipation, you can’t tell. 

He traces the tip of it against your skin, the cold metal leaving goosebumps in its wake. “We know you love it, precious,” he says. “Don’t you want everyone to see how good we make you feel? Think of all the viewers out there that will feel oh-so-scandalized but still won’t be able to look away. Not to mention all the greedy whores who will be getting themselves off to us, wishing they were in our places.” 

Seonghwa pulls you against him just like he did on the dance floor, once again letting his fingers tease his way down your stomach. But this time, he lets them travel even lower, dipping into your folds. 

“Look how wet you are just from this,” he remarks, bringing his fingers back up and spreading them so you can see the evidence of your own desire. He then extends them to Hongjoong who greedily laps at them, sucking them clean. 

You whine, trying to keep your legs closed from embarrassment, knowing anyone below the stage can look right up at you and see exactly how aroused you are. But Seonghwa won’t let you, shoving his knee between your thighs. Almost instinctively, you grind down on it, letting another pathetic sound slip past your lips. 

Hongjoong’s eyes glint with wicked delight at your reaction, his own hands reaching out to cup your breasts. “Someone’s eager,” he teases, tweaking a nipple between two fingers.

You hear a few wolf whistles from the crowd, a few lewd comments being thrown your way, but they only make you more excited. 

“I…” You’re panting heavily, making it hard for you to speak. You have to take a deep breath before trying again. “I want you. Please.”

“Anything for you, doll,” Seonghwa coos, returning his attention to your core. He pushes in one finger all the way to his knuckle with no warning and, if it weren’t for his hold on you, your legs would have buckled. 

“Fuck.” The curse slips from your lips, half whimper, half moan, as he continues pumping his finger inside your wet heat. 

Hongjoong lowers his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as he pinches and tugs at the other. You grip his shoulders for purchase as your head lolls back to rest on Seonghwa’s chest, whining at the onslaught of sensation. The feeling of Seonghwa inside of you while Hongjoong lavishes his attention on your breasts is unlike anything you have ever felt. 

As Seonghwa adds another finger, Hongjoong’s lips mark a path from your breasts, to your stomach, and then lower as he sinks to his knees in front of you. He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your skin, just as his tongue finds your clit. His tongue draws figure eights around it as Seonghwa continues to pump his fingers relentlessly inside of you. 

“T-too much…” you gasp. But neither of them slow down—if anything, feeling how close you are makes them double down on their efforts. Hongjoong sucks your clit into his mouth at the same time Seonghwa adds a third finger, curling them inside of you. 

Seonghwa kisses the back of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs. 

That small bit of praise is all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge, eyes rolling back as your body goes taut with pleasure. Hongjoong eagerly laps up your release, only prolonging your orgasm. Seonghwa gently removes his fingers from you and you hear rather than see when he brings them to his mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. 

Hongjoong pulls back, licking his lips to clean them of your release before his trademark smirk returns. “I think it’s time for you to return the favor, precious. Don’t you think, Hwa?” 

Seonghwa trails a hand down your spine, humming. “I don’t know if she can handle it.”

“I can,” you gasp, eager to please them just as they did you. “I can, I promise. Anything you want.” 

You almost jump from surprise as some spectators in the crowd start yelling their vulgar suggestions as to how exactly they think you should please your partners. You’re sure if you looked at your holodeck, the live chat would be filled with similar comments as well. 

Hongjoong laughs, grabbing your face in his hand. “Don’t worry about them. You can have us however you like.” 

Blushing, you say, “You choose.” 

His eyes light up and he immediately looks behind you to Seonghwa. Just like earlier, some sort of silent communication passes between them, and then you feel Seonghwa’s hand on the small of your back, urging you to bend over. 

“Why don’t you show our Joong what that pretty mouth of yours can do while I fill you up, hm?”

You barely have enough time to nod your agreement before Hongjoong is unbuckling his belt and freeing himself of his constraints. You nearly salivate at the sight of his cock, red and wanting. He grabs your hair and pulls, tugging you forward as much as he can with Seonghwa’s bruising grip on your waist keeping you in place. Tears prick at your eyes but it’s as pleasurable as it is painful, and you take him into your mouth eagerly.

The head of Seonghwa’s cock teases your folds before he finally pushes forward into you. He starts moving at a slow, torturous pace, pulling out of you before slamming right back in. Each thrust propels you forward, forcing you to take Hongjoong deeper into your mouth. You feel so full, so used. It’s incredible.

“Look at her,” Hongjoong coos, staring down at you. “Look at how well she takes us.” 

Seonghwa just groans, grinding into you so deeply that you have to choke back a moan around Hongjoong’s cock. He’s gotten quieter, his thrusts sloppier, a telltale sign that he is losing himself in his own pleasure. Meanwhile, Hongjoong’s grip tightens around your hair, guiding your head back and forth on his length. Each thrust cuts off your air supply, making you see stars.    

Seonghwa’s hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit. You moan again, and Hongjoong echoes you as the vibrations travel up his cock. 

“Shit,” he curses. “So fucking good.” 

Seonghwa’s thrusts grow increasingly erratic and you hear his breath hitch; instinctively, you clench around him, and he spills into you. His release sends you spiraling into your second orgasm of the night, walls fluttering around him as you milk his cock of every drop. 

Hongjoong pulls out of your mouth not long after, squeezing the base of his shaft to prevent himself from following the two of you over the edge. The second Seonghwa steps away from you, he is taking his place, forcing himself inside of you before any of the elder’s cum can drip out. 

“Hongjoong,” you gasp, nearly falling forward from the force of his thrusts. Seonghwa maneuvers himself so that he can support you, holding you in his arms as Hongjoong pounds into you with bruising force. 

“Gonna fill you just like Hwa did,” he growls. “Make you mine. Ours. You’re ours.” 

“Can’t… can’t…” Words escape you, your mind going blank. 

“Yes, you can,” Seonghwa says, stroking your hair. “You can take it. You can come for us one more time.”

His voice is comforting, but you also hear the command in his tone. You choke out a sob, nodding weakly as Hongjoong guides your hips back against him again and again. You can feel another orgasm coming on already, the coil tightening in your stomach. Seonghwa continues to murmur words of praise, stopping only to pepper kisses along your heated skin. 

The coil snaps and you cry out as you come undone, Hongjoong’s cock still buried deep inside of you. His hips stutter and he curses, his warm release mixing with Seonghwa’s. He slowly pulls out and you can feel as some of their cum trickle down your thighs. You collapse against Seonghwa completely, no longer able to stand on your own two legs. 

You feel light-headed and blood pounds in your ears, muffling the cheers you assume are coming from the crowd. You’re too far gone to be embarrassed, and a lazy smile tugs at your lips—the three of you surely gave them the show of a lifetime. 

Suddenly, you feel heat lick at your skin, and you snap back into yourself fully, cringing away from it. Your eyes focus, and you see Hongjoong flicking a lighter open and closed, open and closed.  

“There’s our girl,” he remarks. He brings the lighter to your skin again, just close enough for you to feel the heat of it without it burning you. “I think we were a bit rough with you, precious. You were totally out of it, shivering and everything.” 

Seonghwa is behind you again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. You press further against him, squirming as the heat tickles your skin. 

“Back with us?” Seonghwa asks.

You nod. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” 

“Okay. Hongjoong—enough.” 

Hongjoong stops immediately, flipping the lighter closed with a tsk. “Fine. It’s gonna get hotter in a minute anyway.”

Now that you’re focused, you finally hear the shouting and crashing coming from below. The very people who were just watching you on stage are now rioting, destroying the warehouse and everything in it. The cameras, the bar, all of your hard work—now there is just destruction, everywhere you look. 

You shoot up, hurriedly dressing yourself so that you are no longer the only one naked as panic begins to take hold. “What’s going on? Seonghwa, Hongjoong, we need to—”

You waver on your feet, nearly tripping. Luckily, Seonghwa catches you. “Calm down, it’s okay,” he says, hushing you. “This is all part of the plan.”

Hongjoong gestures to the crowd, pointing out some things you missed. “See how some of them are drenching the place with gasoline? We’re gonna light it up.” 

Maybe you’re still delirious from your multiple orgasms, but you are having trouble understanding what the two of them mean. “Why? I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“This was all a distraction,” Seonghwa explains. “The club, the livestream, us putting on a show. We did it so that all eyes would be on us, and all the badges would be wasting their resources trying to find our location.” 

You nod slowly as the pieces begin to come together. “So, while I was setting all of this up…”

“We were out there. Planting bombs at some of the biggest tech headquarters in the city.” Hongjoong smiles, spreading his arms wide. “Our coup de grâce, just like we’ve been saying.” 

Despite all of your suspicions, this is something you never would have been able to guess. Before you can even begin to truly comprehend the magnitude of what they’ve done, sirens pierce the air. Everyone screams and begins to run out of the warehouse. Seonghwa grabs your hand, and nods to Hongjoong. “Now!” 

Hongjoong throws his lighter to the ground below and flames erupt instantly, devouring everything in sight. Luckily, most of the crowd has already escaped, and you feel confident no one should get caught in the aftermath. Still, it’s pandemonium, and smoke fills your lungs as Seonghwa pulls you closer, shielding you with his body as he hurries toward the nearest exit. 

Hongjoong follows after you, but lags behind as he keeps looking over his shoulder at the fire with a sadistic grin on his face. “That’s how we do it,” he yells, voice barely audible over the blaze.

“Get yourself together,” Seonghwa barks. “We need to get out of here before the cops realize what’s going on and find us.” 

Suddenly, Hongjoong trips, his foot catching on some loose debris. Seonghwa reacts instantly, yanking him back to his feet and throwing an arm around his waist. The three of you continue onward as the heat of the fire licks at your back. You crash through one of the exit doors, and stumble away into the night, disappearing into the sea of masked faces. 

All across the nation, devices light up with the same headline: “City in Chaos as Blazing Inferno Distracts from Large-Scale Bombing of Tech Giants.”

“Nation-wide manhunt underway. Suspects Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa believed to be connected to an underground criminal group called The Black Pirates…” 

NETWORKS: @cromernet @kflixnet @pirateeznet

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie @nebulousbrainsoup @ad0rechuu @sanniesbunnie @seonghwaddict @fruitcakebin @kickti @abby-grace @fireseo @yunhofingers @ohflorah @oiminho @baekbao @byuntrash101 @hyukssunflower @thatnerdytomboy @straykidsholicleigh

#cromernet #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #hongjoong smut #ateez au #ateez fic #park seonghwa x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #seongjoong x reader #seongjoong smut #ateez imagines #kpop smut #ateez hard thoughts #my fic #fic.liu #park seonghwa smut #kim hongjoong smut

[slut4thebroken]

Little Black Dress

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | Neil stands behind a stranger in a crowded subway car.

Warnings | Smut, non con, 18+, sexual content, non consensual everything lol, Neil being a creep, reader is unaware, public masturbation, a lil misogyny.

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | The amount of fic ideas that I’ve gotten from watching porn is… too many💀 Also I wrote this in one day so I’m sorry if it’s bad🫣

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You stood in front of him, so close that he could smell your hair. His gaze trailed down your body, eyeing your exposed arms and the swell of your ass beneath the tight dress you wore. And then down your long legs, leading to your strappy heels. You must be going out. He lifted himself up on his toes a little bit and leaned forward the slightest amount— he was already much taller than you so it didn’t take that much effort. He had to bite his lip to stifle the groan that almost escaped when he saw your tits. The dress you wore flattered them nicely… as in.. they were almost spilling out of it. 

He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to get a grip. He could already feel his cock fattening up in his pants. When the subway turned, you stumbled into him a little, your ass pushing into his crotch. 

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly, turning around to give him an apologetic smile as you stepped away from him again. 

Fuck— your face. You were wearing makeup, but not the trashy kind that makes women look worse. This just complimented your features in a subtle but pretty way. And your lips… His cock throbbed at the thought of them wrapped around his length. 

“No worries..” He chuckled awkwardly, no doubt blushing by now. 

His breathing picked up and when he looked down, the tent in his pants was obvious. He was just glad he was hidden behind you. Reaching down, he tried to subtly adjust himself, but all that did was give him a taste of the stimulation he could have, making him even harder. 

He cleared his throat and looked around, trying to see if anyone was watching, but everyone was either on their phone or engaged in conversation. So he hesitantly took a step forward until his cock just barely brushed your ass. It wasn’t enough pressure for you to notice it, but it was enough to make his lips part in a silent moan as his brows scrunched together. He moved his hips side to side a little, just barely touching your ass, trying to get a little more stimulation. 

He wanted to grab it. He wanted to turn you around, take your ass in both hands, and roughly grope you, pulling you into him as he rutted against your clothed heat. But he knew he couldn’t. So he settled for this. 

For a while, he kept teasing himself with barely there touches. But then the subway stopped and the doors opened and more people were flooding in, pushing you back into him even more. He could smell your perfume now too. 

You cleared your throat and tried to step forward once you noticed how close you were, but there wasn’t anywhere for you to go. You were close enough that he could feel your body heat through his clothes and he could see over your shoulders without needing to raise himself up. He stared at your tits from above as he breathed heavily, trying to control himself and not buck his hips forward. He had to be subtle about this or it would end far too soon. 

Suddenly struck with an idea, he grabbed his wallet from his pocket and “accidentally” dropped it so that it landed in front of you. 

“Excuse me?” He rasped, voice thick with arousal. He cleared his throat and you turned your head a little to look at him. “I dropped my wallet. Could you grab it for me please? It’s just right there.” He pointed to the floor in front of you and you gave him a small smile. 

“Sure.” You leaned down to pick it up and his mouth fell open when your ass pushed into his crotch because of the tight proximity. He wanted to grab your hips and grind his cock against you with abandon. With you bent over like this, he could just barely see the lace panties you were wearing under the skimpy dress. The train jerked and he used the opportunity to buck his hips forward, making you almost lose your balance. You leaned back up— far too soon— and let out a heavy breath of exertion as you handed it to him. 

“Here you go.” He took it with a shaky hand and gave you a shy smile. 

“Thanks.” He noticed that because of you leaning down, gravity made your tits fall up, causing them to spill out of your dress even more once you stood again. He pocketed his wallet then took out his phone and “accidentally” dropped it at his feet. “Such a klutz today.” He chuckled, trying not to sound suspicious as he squatted down to pick it up, but you didn’t even notice that he said anything. 

He stayed down there and pretended to tie his shoe as he looked up your dress, getting a better view of your panties. He wanted to know what you smelled like— what you tasted like. Feeling bold, he slowly moved closer, being sure not to breathe on your leg so you stayed unaware. Once his nose was brushing your dress, he moved a tiny bit closer, then inhaled deeply, trying not to moan out loud at your scent. He didn’t want to push his luck, so he moved back and stood up again, palming his bulge. 

Keeping his phone out, he opened the camera and took a few pictures from his point of view, showing the curve of your ass. Then he moved the phone down and pointed it under your dress, taking a few more. He hesitated for this, but looked around to make sure no one was watching, then quickly brought his phone up to his eyeline to get a picture of your tits. He lowered it quickly and looked around again, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he saw that he hadn’t been caught. 

He looked through the pictures, his hand moving more purposefully over his bulge now. They were perfect. He took a few more under your dress, wanting to get as many angles as possible. When he cursed under his breath, you turned over your shoulder to look at him.  

“Did you say something?” 

“No— no sorry.” He cleared his throat again, giving you a reassuring smile, and you turned back around. He was practically jerking himself off through his clothes now, getting more and more desperate, but he paused when he got another idea. 

Releasing his cock, he stepped closer again until it was brushing your ass, then took a few more pictures. Once he was satisfied, he quickly resumed fisting his cock, getting closer to his orgasm. 

He wanted to come on your tits, maybe even on your face or your panties. He wanted you covered in his seed— marked… owned. Plus, you’d look so pretty wearing his own personal pearl necklace. He could feel himself getting closer just thinking about it. 

He wanted to turn you around and shove you to your knees so that he could hold your head still and hump your face instead. Forcing you to smell his musk, feel his hardness. It was your fault anyway. He wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t push your barely clothed ass on his cock and get him hard. He wouldn’t be doing this if your tits weren’t out. 

If you actually wore shorts under your dress, he wouldn’t have had to take pictures. Why else would you wear such skimpy, lacy panties if you didn’t want him to do that? 

His breathing was growing more and more ragged as he got closer to his release. He looked through the pictures of your panties, focusing on your mound under the see through fabric. He wanted to see what your bare pussy looked like. Were you wet? Would you get even wetter if you knew what he was doing? Your clit probably gets so red and swollen when you’re all needy. 

He imagined what your cunt would look like when he was done with it. Probably red and puffy, your hole gaping as his come slowly trickled out of it…

He could barely even finish the thought before he quickly freed his cock and started properly jerking himself off, closing his eyes and letting his head drop down as he finally came. White ropes of come covered your black dress and anyone who saw it would know exactly what it was. He stroked himself until his orgasm was finally finished, then cleared his throat and looked around again— people’s lack of situational awareness almost amazed him. 

Lifting his phone, he took a few pictures of him rubbing the last bead of come from the tip onto your ass, then tucked himself away. He took more pictures of your ass, getting different angles and trying not to groan when it started dripping down the fabric. He pocketed his phone, then let out a heavy sigh. 

Before he even had the chance to consider doing more, the subway was stopping again and you were walking out the doors. He watched your come covered ass sway with each step and felt his cock twitch at the sight. But his enjoyment was cut short by the doors closing and the subway continuing on. 

Part 2

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @madeinuk

#neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #cillian murphy

[tiannasfanfic]

Conviction

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

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Summary: Life takes an unexpected turn when a one time fling with your best friend leads to an unplanned pregnancy. Will years of friendship be enough to build a solid marriage off of...or are you destined for heartbreak due to a wandering eye like the town rumor mill predicts?

Rating: Explicit 18+

Author Note: Afab Reader, no pronouns used. Angst with a happy ending.

CW: Town gossip; bullying; unplanned pregnancy (no details); marriage; mentions of cheating; mentions of alcohol use; smut (p in v, fingering, kissing, dirty talk); consensual role play of a non-con situation.

Word Count: 8,332

Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore

con·vic·tion - noun: a firmly held belief or opinion.

If you were to ask the people in Hawkins, life for you and Eddie Munson turned out exactly how they expected.

Eddie was branded an outcast while he was a child thanks to his dad. Edward Munson Sr had long been known in Hawkins as a hard-working criminal. Your car was stolen? The cops always checked out Munson’s place first. While no one blamed Eddie for his father’s mistakes, no one really wanted their kids to be around the son of a no-good common criminal either. It honestly surprised no one when Ed was finally put away for a long time due to car theft, which led to his parental rights being transferred to Wayne.

But despite Eddie going into his uncle’s care, the unfair reputation he’d gained during childhood followed along after him. He wasn’t a bad kid, by any means, nor did he get in much trouble. But once the town thinks of someone a certain way, it’s hard for them to break free of that. And, by this point, he’d taken a liking to heavy metal and playing the guitar, which further cemented his outcast status in their minds. Then his interest in fantasy led him to D&D, which led to the rumors of Satan worshiping. He evolved from being seen as just a mere outcast into a full-blown freak by the time he hit high school.

You, on the other hand, managed to fly under the towns radar for quite some time. While the two of you met the year before middle school and became fast friends, people only began to notice how your close friendship was during sophomore year. That’s when a spotlight finally found its way over to you. The rumor mill went absolutely crazy. Even though you weren’t dating Eddie, and this was a known fact, that didn’t really matter to anyone. You got labeled as his and the bullying began almost immediately.

After a while, Eddie tried to save you by severing the friendship, and made a big production of it in the cafeteria, much to your horror. But the damage had already been done. The teasing only got worse when people thought he’d grown tired of you. You weren’t even good enough for the freak, they said. It ended up being a miserable two months for both of you before you finally reconciled your friendship. Fortunately, the whole thing brought you two even closer together afterwards.

After that, the town knew exactly what was going to happen to you two. They predicted Eddie would have you knocked up before senior year and that you’d drop out of school. They seemed split on what would happen after that though. Some said Eddie would run off right away and leave you a single mom. Others said he would stay but would cheat and run off on you later, leaving you a single mom. They were quite surprised when you graduated high school without a baby in tow.

Since people in town didn’t expect Eddie to amount to anything, it surprised no one when he had to repeat his senior year twice. They felt vindicated in their beliefs when it was rumored Eddie was dealing drugs. The murder charges were a bit of a surprise, but nothing actually changed in the way the town thought of him once he was absolved of those. Eddie was still an outcast and a freak, just not one that was wanted for murder.

But that Spring Break led to everything changing between the two of you.

Once his name was in the clear and he had graduated, Eddie’s new group of friends combined with his old ones to throw him a party to celebrate. Everyone was able to cut loose and relax at Steve Harrington’s huge house, so a fun time was had by all. Sometime during the night, feeling both happy and a bit on the horny side, you made a drunken pass at Eddie. His response was favorable, which led to a romp in the back of his van.

It was an impulsive thing, nothing that had been planned or talked about or even thought about beforehand. Neither of you had really spoke about it afterwards, which you took as an unspoken agreement. It was a onetime thing, a moment of physical connection fueled by alcohol and a much-needed reminder that you both made it out of everything alive.

Three weeks later, a little white stick turned blue.

Once the shock wore off after a few days, Eddie became determined to do the right thing. He asked you to marry him. Not knowing what else to do, but knowing he was a good man and you could do much worse, you said yes.

That first eight months of your relationship was a whirlwind. Between planning and executing a small courthouse wedding, getting ready for the baby, and the pregnancy itself, you two didn’t get the opportunity to breathe much less get to enjoy each other’s company and feel each other out as a couple.

Once the baby was born, a baby boy you two named Eddie Wayne, life only got crazier.

Now that the expenses for a baby were added into the budget, money got tight with there only being one income in the house. Childcare was too expensive to justify you working, so Eddie picked up as much extra work as he could, working even longer hours at the garage where he was a mechanic. It was the only way to keep up with bills, but this meant he was away from home even more, sometimes not getting home until well after you and Eddie Wayne were already asleep.

And that was how it quietly went for almost two years. You kept up with everything in the house and the baby, and Eddie brought home the paycheck. It was a routine you both fell into, barely seeing and talking to each other except in passing, even on his rare days off. While you missed your best friend and the friendship you had before, you thought this was just how life went for new parents.

But then the people in town started to notice how often Eddie wasn’t at the house. People saw his van parked up at the garage until all hours. People noticed how you two were rarely seen together anymore.

And so, the rumor mill started up again.

Your relationship was on the rocks, they said. You two had grown apart, they said. You both were too young, they said. It was only a matter of time before this happened, they said.

You did your best to ignore it, like you always did.

But as the months went on though, you noticed the random looks you normally got from strangers became increasingly sympathetic looking. You noticed people whispering around you more. Then, oddly, people actually began approaching you to speak with you. It wasn’t idle chitchat, like you do when you bump into someone, but instead were asking you specific questions about how you were and how life was going. They seemed to be checking in on you with genuine concern, though that was a bit baffling since no one had bothered to care about you before now. You kept the interactions polite but couldn’t help wonder what their ulterior motive was.

It wasn’t long before you finally heard the big rumor that was prompting such a response from people.

Eddie was cheating on you.

They said that’s really why he was up at the garage so late, said it was the only place he could get away with it since you were always home. They said he actually had several girlfriends on the side, and never had to be with the same one twice in one week. And his poor wife, they said. Stuck at home with her head in the sand, blissfully ignorant to her husband’s nightly activities.

It angered you at first. Not what they were saying, but why they were saying it. It struck you as petty and juvenile. You couldn’t help but wonder if they had anything better to do, if their lives were really so dull that they had to focus on yours instead. Despite the way you two ended up together, you doubted Eddie would actually cheat on you. Eddie Munson was many things, but a cheat in any capacity had never been among them. The town was always wrong about him before, and they were definitely wrong about this.

But as the weeks went on, the rumors persisted and you heard them more, it began to gnaw at you. And, once the shred of doubt was planted in your mind, it steadily grew into suspicion and paranoia. You really didn’t want to believe it, but now you had a little voice in your head asking you, what if? It’s not like you were up at the garage to really know what was going on. And why would they be saying it so much if it wasn’t true, if someone hadn’t seen something for sure? The more time that passed, the more it drove you crazy and the more the very idea began to hurt.

You began to really pay attention and notice things after that. Whenever you tried to engage Eddie in conversation, his responses were always short and to the point. He didn’t talk about his day and didn’t really ask about yours except for things relating to Eddie Wayne. While there may have been distance between you two, Eddie never stopped doting on his son.

And the distance was clear now that you really thought about it. There wasn’t even that much affection between you two. He barely touched you and sex was a rarity. Often weeks would pass before one of you would initiate it, and, even then, it seemed halfhearted and tired. It felt more like a routine rather than something either of you really wanted to do. Even the kiss he gave you before leaving every morning was brief and chaste, given without hardly a glance as he did it.

One thing piled up on top of the other in your brain until one afternoon when the gnawing paranoia finally bit down and made you snap to attention. It wasn’t anything big or out of the ordinary that caused it. It was a Saturday afternoon and Eddie called you to let you know he’d be staying at work well past closing. He didn’t give specifics, just that he needed to get some things finished and that you shouldn’t wait up for him.

This kind of thing happened all the time, but you decided you couldn’t take the suspicion any longer. It felt more like you were more roommates than spouses by this point, and it was eating away at you. You had to find out if the rumors were true.

You knew getting into the garage to surprise him wouldn’t be hard. A long time ago, Eddie had proven himself trustworthy enough for the owner to give him his own key to the place, as well as a spare to keep at home. While Eddie always had his key with him, you knew where the spare was since you’ve had to take it up there to Eddie a couple times when he accidentally locked his keys inside the building. With that in hand, you’d have no problem getting in after closing without having to give Eddie a heads up.

But, at the same time, your gut was telling you to be cautious and think this through carefully. A large part of you was still convinced your husband wouldn’t betray you like that. He had been your best friend for years and had never tried to deliberately hurt you before. You didn’t want to just barge in and interrupt your husband at his job with accusations flying when all you had to go on was the town gossip. You wanted to have an actual excuse for going up there if this all turned out to be nothing.

Since Eddie Wayne was a little over 18 months old at this point, Uncle Wayne had been offering to keep him overnight sometime so you and Eddie could have an evening alone together. He was overjoyed when you called to finally take him up on that offer and he picked up his grandson for a sleepover shortly afterwards.

Once your son was off with his grandpa, you got a quick dinner made. It wasn’t anything fancy, just spaghetti with a small splurge of meatballs, but it was something cheap and easy that you and Eddie both loved. You made two lunch containers of it, then stored the rest of the leftovers away in the fridge. You packed up both lunch containers, some silverware, and napkins into a paper sack, and then headed up to the garage where Eddie worked.

On your way there, the nerves started building. You were nauseous with them by the time you pulled into the parking lot. You identified Eddie’s van right away, but as you got out of your car, you realized there was no way to tell if he was alone before you went inside. The parking lot was half full of vehicles, and you had no way of knowing which ones were there to be worked on, or if any of them belonged to a late-night visitor.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to prepare yourself for anything as best you could and let yourself into the front door.

There was no bell overhead to announce your presence as you walked inside, so your arrival was thankfully quiet. It wouldn’t have really mattered had there been a bell though, you could hear music drifting into the reception area from an open door behind the counter that led to the garage area proper. You could hear a song from Megadeth’s latest album drifting into the room.

Following the sound of the music, you stepped through the door out into the garage. You couldn’t see much since most of the bays had a vehicle in it and it was dark The only light you could see was coming from the far end of the building, near the back wall by the office.

You carefully made your way through the semi dark garage, being careful not to trip on any stray hoses or tools. As you got closer to the light and music, you still couldn’t see anything thanks to a few stacks of tires and a large, upright toolbox. But once you stepped around those though, you got a full, unobstructed view of the very last vehicle bay.

And what you saw made you stop in your tracks.

There was a Jeep was parked in that last bay, with its hood up and a light clamped onto it. Eddie was bent over under the hood at an awkward angle, trying not to get in his own light and stretched out as if trying to reach something at the very back. It was really hot here at the back of the garage, so Eddie had the top half of his coveralls down around his waist. He’d also shed the wife beater he normally wore under the coveralls, leaving him completely shirtless. His skin had a heavy sheen of sweat on it, and he was flushed from being under the hot work light. He’d gotten grease and dirt on his back from being under the Jeep, but rather than make him look dirty, the grime seemed to contour and enhance the lean muscle lines of his back.

Your jaw dropped a little, eyes widening.

Eddie stood up then and turned towards a wheeled cart he had next to him at the front of the Jeep, scowling at the wrench he was holding. Oblivious to the fact he was being watched, he started rooting through the various sized sockets on the cart, his brow furrowed slightly as he compared the sizes to the one he had on the wrench originally. The tip of his tongue was slightly poking out from one corner of his mouth, which is how you could tell when Eddie was really concentrating.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took him in from the front.

His hair was pulled back in a chaotic mess of a bun, his black bandana rolled up and wrapped around his forehead to keep sweat out of his eyes. Drops of sweat trailed down Eddie’s chest and stomach and your eyes couldn’t help but follow one as it rolled down the center of his abdomen. The top half of his coveralls were weighing down the bottom half, making them sag a bit in the front. This pulled them down just enough to display the front of his hips, the trim V cut of his lower abdomen on full display and perfectly framing the start of a dark happy trail that disappeared down into his front of pants.

In all of the chaos and stress of life, the turmoil of being new parents and newlyweds simultaneously, and all of the major change’s life had thrown at you two in such a short amount of time…

You had forgotten exactly how fucking gorgeous your husband is.

All you could do was stand there and gawk at him. The reason for your visit not entirely forgotten, but, for the moment, at the very back of your mind. It wouldn’t hurt to keep letting him work so you could admire the view for a little longer.

Eddie finally gave up trying to find the socket he was looking for on the cart and turned towards the upright toolbox. Halfway to it, he finally looked up to see you standing next to it. He screamed in surprise, dropping the wrench and socket he was holding as he jumped backwards. This in turn scared the hell out of you, making you scream and jump in surprise yourself.

Thankfully, you did not drop the food.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, wide eyed and breathing heavy after the jump scare you just gave each other.

And then, quite suddenly and unexpected, the distance you had been feeling between you two disappeared.

You both burst into laughing fits at exactly the same moment. It was that deep, soul cleansing laughter that’s sometimes needed just as much as a good cry. Eddie nearly doubled over, body shaking as he tried to get control of it. You felt your stress and anxiety melt away as tears sprang from your eyes.

As your tension and worry eased, a forgotten memory flashed through your mind from your senior year, which had been Eddie’s first. It was right after Hellfire let out and, since you didn’t have a car at the time, you had hurried to get home before it started raining. Unfortunately, after a brief trip to the restroom, you got outside only to discover it was pouring and everyone, but Eddie had already left. When you went back inside to ask him for a ride, you scared the hell out of each other then laughed about it, much like this.

Presently, Eddie scooped up the wrench he dropped, then went back to the cart to turn off his music. Then he turned to you.

“Jesus Christ, Princess!” he said, his voice filled with humor, and then he dramatically started clutching at his chest. “You could’ve given me a heart attack!”

“I’m so sorry, babe,” you said, giggling at his theatrics as you wiped tears from your eyes. “I wasn’t trying to kill you, I swear.”

His eyes looked down near your feet, then behind you, brow slightly furrowing in confusion.

“Where’s our little man?” he asked, and you realized he was looking for Eddie Wayne’s car seat or stroller.

“With his grandpa for the night,” you smiled at Eddie, then danced a little in place. “I’ve got the whole evening to myself.”

“Yeah?” he smiled at you softly as he finally made his way over to the toolbox, resuming his search for the correct sized socket. “Then what’s a beautiful girl like you doing messing around in a filthy place like this?”

Even now after all these years of knowing Eddie, whenever he was relaxed enough to fall into his old flirtatious demeanor with you, it still made your heart race just as much as it did back in school.

You briefly held up the paper bag you were holding and gave it just enough of a shake to make the silverware inside rattle around.

“I was just stopping by with some food for my amazing husband so we could have dinner together,” you explained, then a playful smile came to your face. “But then when I saw you, I couldn’t help but get distracted and forget my manners.”

You don’t know why you chose that wording in particular. It just popped into your head and seemed like a fun thing to say in light of how he just caught you staring at him like some love-struck teenager.

The irony of it wasn’t lost on you though. Here you were, down at your husband’s work for the sole purpose of seeing if he was cheating on you, but now here you were flirting with him as if he were just some random hot guy you were thirsting after rather than your actual husband.

While this wasn’t like any of the scenarios you had pictured in your head while on the drive over, you weren’t complaining. Scaring each other and the laughter that followed had put you in a relaxed, easygoing state. It was the perfect mood to put you in the mindset to flirt a little heavy handedly with Eddie.

His head lifted a little so he could look up at you, one brow raised in curiosity. He took you in for a moment, as if trying to figure out what your game here was. But then a playful glimmer came to his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a while.

He stood up straight, dropping the wrench he was holding into the open drawer of the toolbox with a clatter.

“Can’t say I was expecting anyone to come by tonight,” he said, dusting his hands off as he looked you over with an intense gaze that made your cheeks flush. “But you’re more than welcome to wait around in the office, see if he turns up. I’ll get washed up, then come keep you company.”

With a wink, Eddie began to head for the sink at in the corner of the garage.

You couldn’t help but blush slightly, then made your way into the office.

The small room was cramped and served as the office and break room. It contained a ratty couch against one wall with a coffee table in front of it, a table against the opposite wall that held a microwave and coffee maker, a desk near the window at the back of the room, and a full-sized refrigerator in the corner. There wasn’t much on the desk aside from extra office supplies but considering what Eddie has said about the owner rarely coming in, that wasn’t surprising.

Forgetting about the flirty banter since you thought that was over with for the night, you started to get dinner laid out for the two of you. You knew it would take Eddie awhile to get his hands and arms scrubbed clean like it always did, and that would give you plenty of time to get everything ready. After warming up the food and finding two sodas in the fridge, you arranged everything on the coffee table so that you two could sit on the couch together while you ate.

Right as you finished setting out the silverware, you heard the office door click shut and the lock twist into place. Smiling, you stood up and turned, your mouth opening in preparation to tease him about how long it always takes him to clean up. Before any words could leave your mouth though, Eddie’s lips crashed into yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

It felt like he was trying to devour you whole, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you before you had the chance to react. You gasped in surprise as his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you tightly to him. Once the surprise wore off though, your response was just as eager, lips moving with his to make the kiss even more intense. Your arms went around his neck, and you pulled him in closer. You softly bit his tongue and Eddie groaned into your mouth, his hips pushing forward against yours. Already you could feel him getting hard in his coveralls.

Since he responded to your choice of words so well, you decided to keep the little game going. You slid your hand up from the back of his neck into his hair and grasped a handful of it. Gently tugging, you used it to pull his head back away from you. He groaned as his lips left yours, letting his head move easily along with the pull.

“I told you I’m a married woman,” you said softly, lips inches from his. “What would my husband think if he were to walk through that door right now?”

It seemed like Eddie was enjoying the game now as much as you were. A tremble went through his body, and one hand slid down from your back to your ass, taking it in a firm hold. He pulled your hips even more firmly against his. Your grip loosened in his hair, and he tilted his head down to look into your eyes.

“Door’s locked up tight, Princess,” he said, his voice low and husky, with a slightly threatening tone woven in. “And no one’s getting through. It’s just you and me now.”

Holding onto you so you wouldn’t trip, Eddie started to walk you backwards. You gave no resistance, letting him lead you until you came to a stop against the edge of the desk. Your bodies were jostled a bit at the impact, your legs inadvertently opening into a wider stance. Eddie claimed the newly empty space by quickly stepping forward to stand between your legs. The firm press of his body against yours made you start to teeter backwards, but his arms squeezed your body tightly to his own, keeping you upright so didn’t fall back onto the desk quite yet.

“Please,” you whimpered, playing up the role of a helpless damsel by letting your head fall back, which only made Eddie bury his face in your neck. “My heart belongs only to him!”

The way you two were standing against the desk put him just at the right angle to grind himself against your entrance. Even through your jeans and his bulky coveralls, you could now feel exactly how much Eddie was liking this little role play with you. His cock was close to rock hard. The feeling of him pressed against you made you bite your lip, and you found yourself suddenly have to swallow a moan as he rolled his hips into yours with purpose. He had caused the seam of your jeans to bear down on your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Your legs jerked a little on either side of Eddie as he did it again, knees quivering as little bursts of electricity traveled through your body from the contact. He was quick to respond, stooping down quickly to pick you up by the backs of your thighs and set you up on the very edge of the desk.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rumbly and low as the tip of his tongue flicked out over the skin on the side of your neck as if he were tasting you. “If it’s only your heart that belongs to him, then your body is all mine for the taking.”

Eddie grazed his teeth on your neck, making you gasp and grip your fingers into his hair again. Falling further into the role, you slipped your other hand between your bodies to rest your palm flat against his chest in a playful attempt to push him away. At this point, Eddie had a firm grip on you and was steadily rocking his hips into yours, grinding his hardness into you over your clothes.

You tried again to push him away again, this time adding just a little bit more force into it. As you did that, your fingers tightened down again in his hair, attempting to pull his head away from you like before.

This time, Eddie wasn’t having it.

He pulled away from you of his own accord, but only just enough that he could grab ahold of your wrists, one in each hand. Keeping a tight hold on you, he then threw you backwards onto the desk, holding your hands above your head as he leaned down over you. You cried out in surprise as you landed. With your ass now hanging halfway off the edge of the desk, the sudden movement of your body caused your legs to lift as your body rocked backwards. You took advantage of this by hooking them around Eddie’s hips, trapping him against you as much as you were trapped against him. He grinned down at you, and you bit your lip to keep from grinning back.

After shifting your wrists so he could hold them in one hand, Eddie ran the tips of fingers all the way down your arm until he reached your chest. He softly squeezed one of your tits, playing with it for a moment, before continuing further down between your bodies, not stopping until he reached the front of your pants. Keeping eye contact with you, he slowly started working the buttons of your jeans open one handed.

“That’s it now, be a good girl and just lay back for me,” he cooed down at you, the tone of his voice almost sinful the way it turned you on. “Lay back and I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.”

As the last button on your jeans came open, you felt his hand slide into the opening of the denim, fingers caressing the fabric of your underwear.

You let your eyes drift open more, looking up at him and finally taking in his full expression. Eddie’s face was a mask of lust, his dilated eyes intent as he gazed down at you.

You could tell he was close to letting go. That fact alone was enough to make you even more excited. Your sex life with Eddie had never really been that wild, if you were being honest. There hadn’t been too many times that he had really let go of himself while being intimate with you. The first time in his van, the first time after giving birth once you’d healed, and a couple of random times after Eddie had gone out for a few drinks with the guys. You enjoyed the hell out of it every single time and only wished it happened more often.

This was definitely an opportunity you couldn’t pass up.

Jutting your chin out, you lifted your head up in a prideful way as you playfully glared into his eyes.

“Do what you will to me,” you said with a defiant tone. “But the only name I’ll be screaming tonight is Eddie’s.”

The grin that spread across Eddie’s face at that made your heart nearly stop.

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, then leaned down so his lips were just an inch from yours. “I’m fully counting on that.”

You weren’t given the chance to reply.

Eddie brought his lips down on yours, the kiss every bit as deep and intense as before. There was no pause this time before you were returning it, your mouth eagerly opening for his. You captured his bottom lip in your teeth, not biting hard enough to draw blood but more to make sure you had his full attention.

But you didn’t have to worry about that. As your teeth were sinking into Eddie’s lip, two of his fingers were slipping past your underwear to pull them aside. His grunt at the feeling of your bite was met by a soft moan from you as he ran his fingers through your folds and began teasing your entrance.

“Always so wet for me,” he muttered against your lips, sounding more like he was talking to himself.

Any reply to you could have given would’ve been lost on your tongue as Eddie slid his middle finger into you. It met no resistance, your wetness easily letting him slide in up to the third knuckle. Since you were already so worked up, he didn’t have to build up to it before starting to finger you at a steady pace. Your eyes closed as you moaned, head tilting back to give him access once again to your neck. He eagerly took advantage of this, his lips coming down to start kissing and sucking on the exposed skin. You could tell just from the pressure that he was deliberately marking you up.

Then, as he licked across the front of your throat to start making his way to the other side of your neck, he stopped the motions of his hand for just a second in order to sink a second finger into you.

You gasped, moaning loudly as your legs tightened around him to hold yourself in that position. He moved his fingers at the same steady pace, his lips sucking at this side of your neck now to leave marks that would match the ones now on the other side.

Being with Eddie as infrequently as you were made it was easy to forget just how good in bed he was. Even the halfhearted and tired sex that was the normal with him was far better than anyone else you’d been with. It wasn’t until this very moment as he curled his fingers inside you that you realized just how pent up you’d been. Getting yourself off for the last few weeks hadn’t cut it as much as you’d thought.

Thanks to the slow pace he had to keep due to the confines of your jeans, the heel of his hand was rubbing against your clit with every inward thrust of his fingers. It didn’t take long before your orgasm built, and you were about to crest its edge.

Right when your inner walls started to tighten around his fingers, Eddie ripped his hand out of your jeans and pulled himself completely away from you. You gasped, clenching around nothing, and aching from the denied orgasm.

“E-Eddie, please,” you gasped, near tears as your body lay trembling on the desk.

“M’sorry, I need you,” he panted, taking ahold of the waist band of your jeans. “Need to feel you clenching around me. Been way too long.”

Eddie quickly pulled your pants and underwear down your legs at the same time. Your shoes slipped off easily when he pulled them off, and the entire bundle was quickly discarded to the office floor. He stepped forward to stand between your legs again, his warm hands caressing your now bare thighs.

A soft sigh left your lips as he touched you, then you watched as he took one hand away to start working himself free of the coveralls. Eddie ended up struggling with them for a moment, having to really work to get one more button undone before he was finally able to push them down past his ass. You leaned up a bit on your forearms, watching as his boxers went next and his hard cock sprang free to lay along your slit.

You couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling, still sensitive from being so close to orgasm. He gave two slow rolls of his hips, dragging the length of his cock across your clit and electing a high-pitched cry from you. Eddie grasped the base of his cock then and tapped the leaking tip on your clit, making you jump slightly, before he slowly began dragging the head through your wet folds. You whimpered, your hips arching up off the desk towards him. He pushed you back down with one hand while he lined himself up with the other. With a slow, firm movement of his hips, Eddie’s hard length began to slide into your cunt.

A loud cry of pleasure left you as your head thumped back on the desk. Since he took his time, you could feel every inch of him. He paused halfway, shifting his stance, and lifting one of your legs higher around his torso before pushing in the rest of the way. You both groaned deeply at the feeling of him bottoming out. It had indeed been too long, your body had to adjust to him again. Luckily, it only took a moment, and as soon as Eddie felt you begin to relax, he began to move.

He started out with slow, but deep, thrusts, dragging his cock through your throbbing heat. You moaned, panting as you clutched at the opposite edge of the desk just above your head. Forcing yourself to keep your eyes open, you watched him as he stared open mouthed at where your bodies met, transfixed by the sight of his cock disappearing into your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he moaned suddenly, a shudder going through his body as he spoke. “S-so fucking hot. H-How’d I get so lucky?”

Eddie paused briefly to shift his stance and to move your leg up higher, over his shoulder even. Gripping your hips with both hands, he began thrusting with renewed purpose. This new angle had his cock hitting even deeper than before. You gasped as the head rubbed against your most sensitive places, including that one rough, spongy area that always made your toes curl.

“Fuck, God, Eddie, right there!” you screamed, already at the edge again. “I-I’m gonna cum!”

Not stopping this time, Eddie’s thrusting became faster, more frantic. One hand moved from your hip to slide between you, and he started rubbing circles around your clit with his thumb. You moaned a string of curses, feeling yourself starting to clench around his cock.

“J-Jesus, that’s it,” Eddie panted, leaning over so he had one hand resting flat on the desk next to your head, the other rubbing your clit faster. “Fuck! Cum for me, squeeze my cock with that tight cunt of yours.”

That was all it took to send you careening over the edge. You threw your head back and screamed as your orgasm washed over you, your cunt clamping down around him just as he wanted. Eddie wasn’t far behind, his thrusting growing erratic before he was cussing and groaning your name. With how sensitive you were, you swore you could feel his cock pulsing, then spurting as he came, painting your insides with his full load.

Eddie tried to fuck you both through your orgasms, but he had gotten too sensitive. It really had been too long. After a soft gasp that sounded close to a yelp, his motions stilled. Still buried deep inside you, his body trembled just as much as yours did as you both came down from your highs.

Once he had caught his breath, he moved to gently lower your leg from his shoulder to around his waist but stayed inside you. Leaning over, he bent down to you, one hand softly cupping the side of your face as he kissed you. The kiss was warm, tender; a loving contrast to the primal fucking that just occurred. He kissed you a few more times before sliding out of you and helping you up.

You both were giggling as you got dressed, grinning like idiots at each other and blushing. It was as if you were kids again and had just gotten away with doing something very bad. Which, technically, you did, you supposed. After all, having sex on the boss’s desk probably wasn’t looked highly upon, no matter the circumstances.

With appetites worked up, you both finally dug into dinner, with Eddie dramatically moaning in pleasure at the first few bites before you fell into an easy conversation. Eddie asked what you and Eddie Wayne got up to that day. You told him all about everything your son did, then he surprised you by asking specifically how your day was. He surprised you again when you asked Eddie about his day, and he actually started talking about it. That was a first. You had to ask a few questions here and there when he used a term you didn’t understand, but it was all pretty interesting.

Suddenly, in the middle of a story, Eddie broke himself off and smiled sheepishly at you.

“Sorry, Princess,” he said, looking like he was afraid you might be annoyed. “I know you don’t understand most of this. That’s why I try not to talk much about work.”

You blinked a few times in surprise, then shook your head.

“No, Eddie,” you said, looking at him warmly. “I love hearing about your day. If I don’t get something, I’ll ask about it if I’m curious enough.”

Relief came over Eddie’s features and he leaned over to give you a soft kiss.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence then as you ate. But that gave your brain the opportunity to go back to the original reason for your visit. Once it was back at the forefront of your mind, it began to gnaw at you once again, even in your post sex bliss.

Knowing this wouldn’t go away on its own, you decided it was time to just address it directly. The town could say what they wanted and didn’t need to know your business, but the air needed to be clear between the two of you, at least.

“So, I’ve been hearing a new rumor about you around town,” you said, keeping the tone of your voice playful, just like any other time you’ve filled him in on the latest gossip about yourselves. “And it’s a really juicy one this time, too.”

“Yeah?” he said, quirking a brow at you as he chewed a bite of food. “Do tell.”

You felt your nerves come up but didn’t let it show. Instead, you looked around conspiratorially and leaned closer to Eddie. Playing along, Eddie leaned closer to you too, tilting his ear towards you to listen. You cupped his ear with one hand, as if trying to keep a secret

“Word around the campfire,” you whispered, pausing for dramatic effect. “Is that you’re fucking around on me.”

Eddie snort laughed so hard he ended up choking on his own spit. As he lapsed into a coughing fit and you pounded him on the back, you couldn’t help but feel relieved already just based on his reaction.

“Those old bats, I swear,” he finally said, gasping for air as he wiped the tears from coughing off his cheeks. “I don’t have the energy to see you nearly as much as I’d like, much less the time to work in a side piece.” He paused to take a bite and continued on as he chewed. “When do they think I have the time? When I’m able to sleep? No thanks. I like what little sleep I do get.”

It was so casual the way Eddie spoke, not even thinking about what he was saying. There was no filter behind those words, nothing but the straight, stream of conscious Thoughts by Eddie. And so, it hit you straight in the heart, making it skip around a few times.

“That’s a very good point,” you said, unable to stop yourself from chuckling at yourself for even entertaining the idea seriously.

Eddie chuckled, then looked over at you with a grin.

“They say the same thing about you, you know,” he said, then took another bite as he watched for your reaction.

Now it was your turn to choke, though you choked on your food, and Eddie pounded you on the back until you got through it.

“For real?” you asked once the coughing fit was over. “When did those start?”

“Not too long after the wedding,” he replied, grabbing your soda to hand it to you. “Apparently, you’ve been fucking anyone they see come around the house, including the mailman, since day one.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. That was a new one on you. It certainly explained some of the flat glares and head shakes you’d occasionally gotten since you two got married. You never paid much attention to them when it happened, thinking it was about something stupid.

As it turns out, you were right.

“As if I’d really cheat on the guy I’ve been crushing on since the sixth grade,” you scoffed, then took a drink of your soda. “There would be no sense in it. Besides that, pretty much like you said, when would I have the ti-“

“Wait, what?”

You looked over at Eddie to find him staring at you with a shocked expression and his fork halfway to his mouth.

“What?” you asked, not sure what he was asking about.

Eddie tossed the fork into his bowl, set it on the table and turned to you.

“We’ve been married for,” he said, then stopped to think for a moment. “Just over two years now and this is the first I’m hearing about you having a crush on me?”

You blinked at him in surprise, your eyebrows going up.

“I didn’t figure it mattered once we were married,” you said, shrugging. “We’re together now, so I didn’t think it needed to be said.”

The expression of shock on Eddie’s face would’ve been funny had you not known it was completely genuine.

“Princess, that would’ve been really helpful to know a long time ago,” he said, the tone of his voice incredulous and slightly shaky. “I’ve spent these past two years worried about if I really made you happy. I honestly keep wondering if you really want to be with me, or if you only agreed to marrying me because you didn’t want the stigma of being a single mom on top of being the town freak’s whore.”

There was no trace of cruelty in his voice since Eddie wasn’t calling you that name to be mean. That was something people started calling you near the end of junior year. By senior year, it had stuck, and you got called it every day until graduation. Some of the old bullies still liked to shout it at you when they saw you out. It was part of the reason why you didn’t like to leave the house most days unless you absolutely had to for errands.

“Admittedly, that thought did cross my mind,” you said, then sat your own bowl on the table to turn to him. “But I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t really want to marry you, baby or no. If you were the type of man that would’ve made me miserable, I’d still be at my parents’ house.”

The smile that came to Eddie’s face then could’ve lit up the entire garage. One of his hands came up to softly stroke the side of your face as he gazed at you fondly.

“And I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t truly want to,” he said. “Baby or no.”

You moved one hand to rest it on his leg, giving it a soft squeeze, as he leaned in to kiss you.

As the kiss gradually started to ramp up from loving to more intense, Eddie pulled away slightly, looking at you with a worried expression.

“Does this mean I can touch you more?” he asked, sounding unsure of himself suddenly as he started to ramble. “I thought you didn’t really want me to, so I never do, but, god, it’s all I’ve wanted to do since ninth grade, and I want to so much it drives me fucking crazy sometimes.”

Your cheeks blushed a bright pink at Eddie’s admission. It was a good feeling knowing he desired you as much as you did him, and your heart soared knowing he felt as deeply for you too. This hadn’t been a marriage of convenience for either of you, after all.

Taking his face in both of your hands, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, pulling back at the end to gaze into his eyes.

“Baby, you’ve always been able touch me,” you said softly. “Whenever you want and in whatever way you want.”

A grin spread across Eddie’s face, the glint you saw out in the garage coming back to his eyes. His hands found their way up to your shoulders and he pushed you onto your back on the couch. Climbing on top of you less than a second later, he laid himself between your legs, his lips finding their way to yours once again.

Like always, the town rumors about Eddie had turned out to be nothing more than falsehoods thanks to bored rumor mongering. There was absolutely nothing wrong with your marriage apart from the fact neither of you had properly communicating your needs and desires. And that was something both of you recognized now. The two of you made a vow to each other that very night, right there on his boss’s couch, promising to be more open with your feelings and thoughts.

And, as it turns out, you were given the opportunity to put those newfound communication skills to the test soon enough. When you left the garage that night, you left with more than just hearts in your eyes and very sore legs.

Just over three weeks later, another little white stick turned blue.

Oh, how the rumor mill had a field day with that one.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #mechanic eddie munson #mechanic eddie #mechanic!eddie

[senualothbrok]

Enough

Summary: You agreed to help Astarion with the Rite of Profane Ascension, but you can't watch him go through with it. You interrupt the ritual, and Astarion turns on you. Now, you must deal with the aftermath of your actions.

Word count: 3.6k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Angst. Trauma and recovery. A very angry Astarion.

AO3 link

This is the first fanfic I have written for about 20 years. I should be working on my novel, but this story honestly possessed me. I hope someone out there reads and enjoys this! If not, it was therapeutic and cathartic to write it.

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

You have heard it a thousand times. The tales and the histories, all the songs you have sung. You are a bard, after all, and this story is as old and worn as your heart. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

You know this, and you have seen it. You have seen it twist kind men into savages, transform wary women into beasts. Your own family had suffocated you under its clutches, leveraging your gifts and talents for ever more power and influence. Stripping you bare, squeezing out every drop they could get from you. You were their very own song bird, pushed about and paraded until your fingers were raw and throat was hoarse, to grant them entry into the best parties and social circles. But you were never enough. You never sang sweetly enough, or got large enough crowds. Not enough people knew you. You should have been prettier, more alluring. All the things they made you do, but you never did enough. It was never enough.

When you had escaped from them, you had vowed you would never be like them. You had promised yourself you would never become the thing you fought against. You would be different. Better. You would be good.

And yet.

You are standing in Cazador’s palace. Blood spatters the smooth ivory of Astarion’s skin. In the nightmarish hue of the ritual chamber, he glows a strange green. His crimson eyes are all fear and desperation.

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

In that moment, you cannot say no. If it were anyone else, you would refuse. There have been many conversations with Astarion - around the campfire, in his tent, even as you walked around the labyrinth of Cazador’s living hell. You have talked to him at length about this moment. You have listened as he has confessed guilt and need and hesitation and rage. You have been kind and patient, always careful not to criticise him, not to push back too much, not to hurt him. You have been good. He must make his own decision, you have been telling yourself. He has suffered enough.

So you open your mind to him, because he asks you to. You feel his frenzied hunger as he devours the sight of every scar on his back, as though their cruelty is now beauty. You watch his features which you have come to know so well. You have seen them in sleep, in battle, in laughter, in pain.  You have seen them shrouded and masked, bare and open. You watch now as they contort into something that you recognise from so many other faces and times. And as you watch, you can barely hear Cazador’s deafening screams, or register the way his mangled mess writhes and gushes. All you can see is Astarion’s widening smile as he carves at Cazador’s back, his eyes dilating like sinkholes.

You think it, even as he whisks away Cazador’s mutilated body like a rag doll. Even when Astarion slams the staff on the ground and everything around you blazes red as the blood of his convulsing siblings and the seven thousand spawn about to be slaughtered. Even when Gale and Karlach cry out at Astarion to stop, that this is a mistake, that the cost is too great. Even then, you think to yourself: this is what he wants. It is his choice. It is his right.

But in the scarlet haze, you are remembering. You are thinking of his trembling voice when he promised a broken husk called Sebastian, just moments ago, that he would free him. You think of the way his soft eyes glistened when he had thanked you and clasped your hand, stunned with the realisation that he was not just a thing to be used. You feel the crushing weight of Vellioth and Cazador and the decaying dungeons and centuries upon centuries of madness and terror. And you remember the tenderness with which he had looked at you, not days ago, believing the power of the ritual would keep you both safe. That he would protect you with it.

“I can feel their power flowing into me!”

You stare at him, spreadeagled, monstrous.

Something has begun to well inside you, like a cracking of ice, a convulsion of tears. In that whispering, you remember the promise you made yourself all those years ago.  And you know, from a deep and tattered place within you, that that promise is greater than your yearning for his love.

The blade springs from your hand on its own. You watch it sing through the air and hit its perfect note in Cazador’s maimed gut. Astarion and his siblings crumple to the floor. The crimson mist lifts, and in the silence you know, with the certainty of death, that you have lost him.

You say something, but you know it is meaningless. Nothing can repair the mistake you have made. You could have refused to help him when he asked. You could have reasoned with him, urged him to stop and think. You could have told him, from the start, that you could not go through with it. And now, you have kept your promise to yourself, but not to the man you love.

When he rises from his knees and turns to you, it is the face of a stranger that you see.

“I was so close. I could have had it all, but you took everything from me.”

Hatred hardens in his every word. And then, a tide of despair.

“Cazador won after all. I’ll never escape the hell he built.”

You cannot bear it. Your failure rips through you, and you want to reach out to him, to beg and plead and weep. But you just stand there.

He looks down at the staff in his hand.

“And if I can’t escape, then no one can.”

He splits the staff on his knee. It makes such a small sound as it splinters, but it echoes through you like an avalanche. It is the sound of seven thousand spawn being condemned to death. It is the sound of their eternal suffering. And it is all because of you. The horror and guilt erupts inside you.

It happens so fast after that. There is no time to think, to feel, to act. There is the glint of a dagger raised. You are knocked back, and a searing pain slices through your shoulder as you stare up at bared fangs looming over you. Your limbs are heavy with shock, and suddenly you feel a surge of heat and the great arc of Karlach’s war hammer over you. You hear Gale shout out a spell, and you watch as Astarion topples to the side, frozen except for the furious twitching of his eyes.

“Don’t!” you hear yourself shout. “Please, stop!”

Karlach and Gale rush to your side, cradling you up, fussing over your shoulder. But you do not feel it. You do not really feel anything. All you can do is look from them back to Astarion, pleading, but you are not sure what for.

---

“You can release his hold now.”

You are back at camp, and you have recovered your voice. For a long time, you could not speak. Shadowheart and Halsin tended to your arm, speaking soothing words over you. Gale and Karlach came to sit with you, their faces creased with concern. Wyll, Lae’zel and Jaheira stood at a distance, arguing in hushed voices. All the while, you stared into the distance, thinking of the hatred in Astarion’s gaze, and everything you had done to deserve it.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gale says, frowning.  

“We can’t keep him like that forever.”

“The man turned on us. He tried to kill you.”

You look into Gale’s eyes. There is warmth there, streaked with pity.

“Can you blame him?”

Gale scoffs. “Yes, I can.” Then he pauses. His voice softens. “Well, perhaps in the circumstances, in the heat of the moment…” He shakes his head. “But he truly would have killed you, had Karlach and I not intervened. And that is inexcusable, after everything you – all of us - have been through with him. After everything you have done for him.”

Your vision blurs and stings.

“I fucked up, Gale. How could I have fucked up so royally? I should never have let him start the ritual. I should never have agreed with it. I’ve broken him. Seven thousand innocent people will die in agony because of me. Because I was…”

You are not used to burdening others with your emotions. You give and not take, even when you have nothing. When you are nothing. But now, you are afraid that you will break.

“…Because I failed.”

Without hesitation, Gale lays a hand on yours. It is a such a kind gesture that it chokes you. You have always been the one to look after others, to give them what they need. That is your role. It is what you exist for. If you cannot do that, what are you good for?

“Those things were never your responsibility, my dear friend. They were never your burdens to carry.”

“But he trusted me.”

“That does not mean that you must give him everything, or watch him destroy thousands of people and himself.”

You ball your fists. “Then I should have told him that, from the start. But I went along with it-”

“Because you love him.”

You have not spoken about this with Gale or anyone else. You know it is common knowledge that you and Astarion are entangled, but you have always wanted to hide the love you feel for him away. You have always known that whatever it was that lay between you was fragile. Astarion himself was not sure what you were.

Attachment does not come easily to you. You know that if you give people what they need, there is a chance that they will stay. But there is also a chance that they will snap their heads one day and no longer want what you have to offer. And then, they will go.

You have always tried to guard yourself against the pain of that departure. Even with Astarion.

“Many a mistake has been made for love,” Gale continues. “I understand this better than most.”

“This is a monumental fuck up,” you breathe. “Not a simple mistake.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Do you really want to start a competition about the magnitude and impact of our mistakes? Because if so, I believe that I would be a clear winner, and some others in our camp may also be worthy competitors.”

You are too weary to laugh. Too broken.

“Besides, I am sure if we knock our considerably enriched heads together, we can find a way to open those dungeons and release those prisoners. Especially with such a range of talented and well-resourced allies to draw on.”

You can see the questions taking shape in Gale’s head already. You give him a weak smile.

“You are only human, my friend. I know you try to be better than any of us, but even you are permitted to make mistakes.”

When he clasps you tightly to his chest, you let yourself rest into it. You want so badly to believe he is right, but you are not sure you can.

---

As you approach Astarion, you gesture behind you. You know the rest of them are all watching, wary and ready to strike at the faintest sign of danger. But you stand them down, and they linger at a respectful distance.

Released from Gale’s hold, Astarion hunches over slightly, like a cat backed into a corner. He knows he is outnumbered and vulnerable. He does not lunge towards you. His arms lie flat against his sides, his hands free of weapons. His fangs are hidden behind the tight line of his lips.

“What you did to me is worse than staking me. You might as well finish me off now.”

Every word is a cut. You flinch at each one, but you do not avert your gaze from his. Any gentleness, affection, and truth in those eyes is gone, locked behind blood-red walls. And in his abject contempt, you find a kind of freedom.

If he has already left, then you need not please him. If you are not enough, then it does not matter what you say. You have lost him already. He does not love you.

So you say what you wish you had said, from the moment that he showed you who he was, the moment you fell in love with him.

“The ritual would have killed you, your siblings, and seven thousand innocents.”

“Spare me,” he snarls. “You nodded and cooed at me, like you understood me, like you would help me. ‘I’m here for you, Astarion. I’ll help you Astarion. Tell me what you need and I’ll be there, Astarion.’ You fucking liar. You godsdamned hypocrite. You never understood me. You never wanted to help me.”

His fury is like a lash, but the pain is sobering. You brace yourself against it.

“I never said I would help you become Cazador, or let you kill thousands of people for power.”

“Please.” His laugh is vicious. “I told you from the start what I wanted. If you didn’t see that, then you’re blind. Delusional. A self-righteous idiot, living in a fantasy.”

“You wanted to be free, Astarion. To be safe.”

“You never wanted me to be free,” he seethes. “You liked me weak and broken, so I could come to you on my knees, and you could nod and smile and promise to fix me. Your own personal project, kept on a leash like a little puppy. Cuddly, harmless Astarion, healing from his hurts, all thanks to you. My saviour.”

Behind you, you can hear voices erupting and subsiding, a scuffle of shifting feet. You are grateful when no one interjects or rushes forward. This is for you and Astarion alone. It is your punishment to bear, and his truth to hear.

“You took all that power away from me,” he hisses. “It wasn’t your choice to make. It was my decision. You’re worse than Cazador.”

The words wound you like arrows, but you half expect them. You have called yourself worse things.

“Cazador would have just compelled me not to do the ritual. But you gave me a taste of what I wanted, then ripped it away from me. You’re the cruellest bitch I’ve ever known.”

You do not care that hot tears stream down your cheeks, and that your voice trembles. You let yourself say what needs to be said, not what you think he wants to hear.

“You’re right.” You take a step towards him. “I should never have let you do it. I went along with it, when I should have pushed back. But I wanted you to feel you always had someone on your side. Someone who understood. I wanted you to feel loved.”

His disgust does not deter you anymore.

“You think that this is all you are. You can’t see beyond it. What was done to you. What he made you do to others. But it isn’t. It never was. You were always strong. You can be more than what happened to you. You are more than what happened to you.”

“Like you?” he sneers. “A hero? Someone so chained to other people’s approval that you’re lost without a saving mission? That’s what you so desperately want to see when you look at me, isn’t it?”

“No.” You are surprised by the strength of your voice. “Only someone who won’t let thousands of people suffer just because you did.”

Jolts of anger course through him. “You have no idea what I suffered,” he growls. “No idea what I am owed. If you had the faintest idea of it, if you truly loved me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would be burning the world with me.”

You have listened silently before, when he talked about this. What he deserves after two centuries of agony. His comeuppance. You did not challenge him because you were afraid. Afraid you would offend him. Terrified that he would leave.

“Look around you, Astarion,” you say now. “Look at everyone here. We have all suffered. No, none of us have suffered what you have suffered, and I am so deeply sorry for that. But Cazador is dead and no one else will have to suffer under him. And now, no one will have to suffer under an Ascended either.”

A snide sound of disbelief. “You are so full of bullshit I can hardly breathe from the stench.”

Your tadpole rages, ramming into his mind. You expect the resistance of loathing, but he does not fight. He allows you in. And for the first time, you show him. You let him see him your parents, and your pain, and everything that was done to you. You open yourself up, the masks you put on that you recognise in him, the performances you too are familiar with in the economy of survival. You show him your promise to yourself, and your choices, and the failures you carry around with you like a noose.

He glares at you after it is over, but you think there may be less hatred in his eyes than there was a moment before.

“Why did you show me that?”

It is easier, now that there is nothing to hide.

“Because if we all burned the world because of our suffering, there would be nothing left. And because you said you wanted something real.”

He seems backfooted that you mention it. His first moment of honesty. Your first moment of connection. The beginning of your love.

“This is real, Astarion.” Your gaze is a waterfall. You cannot stop it. “Real love, messy and painful, with a real person who makes mistakes and tells you things that you don’t want to hear. Someone who sees who you really are and who you can be, the worst and the best of you, and still loves you anyway.”

He steps back, his features clenched in spasm. You think of how his hands felt on your skin, cold as ice to the touch, yet warming you inside out like summer sunlight. You remember the lilt of his laughter as you traded jibes and jests under the furs of your tent on cold nights. You breathe in his scent on the air for the last time, those hints of bergamot, rosemary and brandy that you could recognise anywhere. You are already mourning their loss.

“Then I don’t want it,” he spits out. “And I don’t want you.”

And then he leaves.

---

You are alone. You are lying in a clearing a short walk away from camp. It is spring, and the smell of earth and grass hangs around you as the sun streaks through the trees above you. Your ears are drunk with birdsong.

It has been weeks since he left. You would be lying if you said you did not miss him. Sometimes you feel his absence like a presence. It haunts and stalks you, and when the darkness comes, you cling to your pillow in your tent and weep through waves of grief that surge through you like labour pains. But at other times, you find a kind of solace in your solitude. You are not shackled by a desperation for love from a man so broken he is not capable of giving it. You are not trapped by your own brokenness in this yearning, this ache to fill the holes in his heart. And this freedom is worth the pain.

When you had asked Astarion what he wanted, he had never known. And perhaps that had struck you so deeply because you had never known either. You had never truly known what you wanted, who you really were outside of what you could do for others. You thought you were only a thing to be used, a tool to fill someone else’s need, whatever that may be. You could be good at that. You needed to be good at that. If not, you were nothing.

But you are learning. Since he has left, you are learning that you are more than that. You are learning that you can live with your mistakes. That you are enough, just as you are.

You find that you sing now, even when there is no one around. Even when it is not for a performance, or for support in battle. You sing for yourself, and you take pleasure in it, even when your notes are off key and you cannot remember the right words, even when no one is there to praise you or reward you for it. For the first time, you are enjoying your gift for no other reason than that you wish to. It is a gift, and it comes without dread or shame or conditions.

You are humming softly as you stroll back to camp. Scratch greets you with a frenzied tail, and you roll around with him, kneeling as he plasters sloppy kisses all over your face. The simple joy of this dances over the cracks in your heart. When Scratch suddenly stops, you are almost disappointed. You glance in the direction where he has bounded, an ecstatic flurry of delight. Then your eyes catch on silver shining in the sun, two bright rubies on white silk. Your breath halts.

There he is. He is different, but the same. You look at each other. And in that moment, it is enough that there is no hatred in his eyes, which flicker with uncertainty. It is enough that his mouth is not curled into a sneer, and his brow is soft and even. It is enough that you have both survived. You have shown each other who you are, and you are still here.

He reaches his hand out to you, and you take it.

---

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3

[lendeah]

The currents of destiny

Chapter 2: Power hungry.

Summary: G'Axir shows Astarion what his life would be like had Tav carried on with the Ascension ritual. Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav Word Count: 3.3k Tags: Heavy Angst, Psychological Trauma, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Psychological Torture (kind of), Emotional Manipulation, Verbal Abuse, but just chapter 2, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending.

[AO3 Link]

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

NOTE: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS/TAGS BEFORE PROCEEDING. DARK CHAPTER. THANK YOU.

Before Astarion could protest or question further, a blinding white light engulfed him and G'axir both. He felt himself being pulled through space and time, his body weightless and disoriented.

Suddenly, he regained control of his body. And his breath was caught in his throat: he was in front of Cazador, his master still alive and well. His companions were a few meters away, watching him with apprehension. In an incredible turn of events, he had been transported back in time to just a few hours earlier. He attempted to call out to them, but his mouth moved on its own before he could say anything.

"Help me do this, please"

Astarion's heart dropped as he realized what was happening. He was a helpless spectator, forced to watch his own actions unfold without any control. He watched Tav's face, the conflict swimming in her eyes.

"We would kill all these people... seven thousand, Astarion. Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

"These people died years ago trust me on that. All that's left a feral spawn, desperate for blood. If we release them how many people will they kill? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands?" he replied, but he sensed he was trying to convince himself just as much as Tav.

In the past, this was the point when Tav had refused to assist him. Now, however, she looked torn, her brows furrowed as she considered his offer.

"If I complete the ritual... think of the power I'll have. With me by your side we can we can save the city - we can save ourselves!" Astarion could hear the desperation in his own voice and he hated himself for it.

He could feel everything his mind was going through at that moment: fear, hunger for power, and a sense of desperate urgency. But amidst it all, he also saw the turmoil reflected in Tav's eyes. He could see the internal struggle she was facing, the weight of the decision weighing heavily on her shoulders, something he hadn't noticed before.

After a few seconds, he could sense the parasite quivering inside his mind, the telltale sign that Tav was opening her mind to him. The moment their minds linked, Tav's presence flooded his senses, and he saw himself through her eyes, standing in front of Cazador, his back to her revealing the intricate design of his scars. He felt her emotions; the trembling anxiety and deep concern, but also the unwavering trust she had in him.

Despite himself, he couldn't help but be curious about the potential outcome. The power and control that completing this ritual would bring were too enticing to ignore. And with Tav's help, he could finally get revenge on Cazador and be truly free.

After that, the vision blurred and flashed, a dizzying array of images assaulting Astarion's mind. He saw himself marking Cazador's back with the complex patterns that adorned his own back. Then, the image shifted and he was throwing his master into the very place that should have been his. In that moment, a blinding flash of red washed over Astarion and he felt an overwhelming surge of power coursing through his body. His senses were overloaded, his mind expanding to absorb all the knowledge and abilities that came with the ascension. It was like being struck by lightning, a rush that left him breathless and reeling. He repeated a series of words, an enchantment that felt unfamiliar on his tongue.

And after another flash, Astarion felt... nothing. No fear, no hunger, nothing at all. What is going on?

His surroundings slowly came into focus: the ground beneath him strewn with the bodies of his siblings, all lifeless and still. Blood stained the walls and floor, a stark contrast to the pristine stone that adorned them before. His body turned to look at Tav and his companions, who were still watching him from the sidelines. And they looked completely horrified at the sight.

"What have you done?!" Karlach screamed.

But his body, that other version of him, still didn't feel anything. The Ascended version of himself - stronger, more powerful than ever before – remained expressionless. A sickening realization hit him like a punch to the gut - his siblings, seven thousand souls, Sebastian, the Gur children... all dead because of him. And at that moment, Astarion felt a surge of guilt and shame wash over him. He couldn't believe what he had done. He had been consumed by his hunger for power, driven by his past self's desperation.

I didn't mean... I didn't think... Astarion stammered, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. But the words were lost in the void of his consciousness.

"Astarion…" Tav's voice was filled with disbelief and sadness. "Has this... really been worth it?" her voice cracked with disappointment, the sadness and guilt in her eyes too much for Astarion to bear.

He could feel the pain radiating off Tav. He needed to reach out, comfort her... but he couldn't. He was trapped inside his mind, a prisoner in his own flesh.

His body moved towards Tav slowly; reached out and cupped her cheek gently with its hand.

"I did it for you, for us," he whispered softly, running its thumb against her bruised and tear-streaked cheek.

And yet… as he saw the raw pain etched into her features; as he watched tears welling up in her eyes, spilling over and streaking down her cheeks; as he heard her whisper his name one more time – filled with sadness, disappointment, and an indescribable heartbreak – he felt nothing. His body felt nothing but pride and greed for more power. And the thought terrified him to his very core.

“Trust me, Tav,” His voice spoke on its own accord, before his consciousness was moving again.

He couldn't see anything else around him, just the overwhelming brightness that seemed to swallow him whole. When Astarion opened his eyes, the stone and debris had been replaced with pristine white walls adorned with elegant artwork. As he took in his new surroundings, a soft breeze tickled his skin and the gentle sounds of seagulls filled his ears. He was gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sparkling blue sea stretching out before him. He was no longer in the ruins of his past; he had been transported to a beautiful seaside bedroom.

Confusion filled his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Was this another vision? Or was this reality?

His body turned from the windows to the space next to him, and he realized Tav was standing in front of him, looking... tired. And bruised.

"I really can't believe you let me do that... killing all those people..." Ascended Astarion chuckled darkly, "such a pleasant surprise."

He saw the guilt etched on her face, the sadness. Astarion felt his stomach churn at the thought that Tav might hate him for what he had done. But I didn't mean to...

Astarion's body walked towards Tav, reaching out to cup her face gently in its hand. But instead of the usual warmth and tenderness he felt towards her, there was only disgust. His body was repulsed by her weakness.

"I... I just wanted what was best for you," she replied softly, looking at her hands.

"You sweet, sweet thing," His body spoke in a mocking tone, the hand that once held such tenderness now gripping Tav's chin tightly, making her look at him. "I want what's best for you too, of course. And... one wicked turn deserves another."

Wait, what? Astarion felt a cold and ugly realization seep into his mind. Could he really mean... No, he wouldn't...

"Isn't that what you want, pet?" his body continued.

No. No she doesn't want it. What is this?! Stop this! "I-I just want you to be happy. I want us to stay together," Tav's voice trembled as she tried to reason with his body.

"Is that so?" His body countered. "You're the one that I want, the one that I love and you could be so much more if you want it. One little bite, and you could be mine, forever..." his ascended version said. But Astarion could taste de lie on his tongue. He wanted to make her his spawn.

And at that moment, Astarion felt pure unadulterated terror like he had never felt before. No! No no no! Astarion screamed, clawing at the invisible bars of his conscience. Please, no! Not her! Astarion's screams echoed inside his head as he watched his body move closer to Tav, his eyes glinting with hunger and desire for control. But it was no use. He was trapped inside his own nightmare, forced to relive the horrors of his past as he became the monster that once ruled over him.

His body was now leaning towards her, close enough to feel her soft breath against his lips, close enough to see the fear in her eyes – a fear he could not respond to. "Say it, love," it cooed dangerously, its voice a haunting echo of seductive promises.

"I... I..." Tav stuttered, her trembling hands tightly clutching the front of his shirt.

"Are you ready to join me? To accept this immortal gift? Say yes..." a commanding whisper slipped past his lips against his will, dark hunger coursing through his body. Astarion felt his soul scream in agony, unable to alter the horrible course he had set them on. Because he already knew that look in her eyes, that determination. It was the look she had when standing up for him against his siblings, the one she wore while letting him drink from her every night, the look she gave him on the night she confessed her love. The look that said she would do anything and everything for him.

Slowly, her lips moved, and a small whisper escaped them. "I love you..."

No! Astarion's soul shrieked inside his mind, but the body wasn't listening. Astarion tried to push back against the darkness, to will his body to do something, anything, to stop itself.

As tears streamed down her face, she whispered a tearful "yes." He longed to comfort her, to promise that everything would be okay and to protect her from the monstrous version of himself.

But it was too late.

His physical form gave into a cruel grin as she submitted to his will, and Astarion could feel its disgust at her degradation, at her weakness.

"I knew you'd come around..."

His body gently captured Tav's soft weeping face between his hands, his thumbs brushing away the mournful tears on her cheeks. "Such a good girl," his voice was honeyed darkness, "You'll be so beautiful... everlasting... My dark consort."

His body slowly pushed Tav down to the floor, her back resting against the cold stone. It was a cruel twist of fate that the one person who had shown him kindness and acceptance would now become his first slave. Tav closed her eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. The irony wasn't lost on Astarion, he was giving her a lover's kiss before death.

As his body pulled away from the kiss, his icy fingers traced down from her throat to the collar of her shirt. He slowly peeled it off to bare her neck, not breaking eye contact. "Tonight I shall drink every drop of your blood, own your body, kill your mind. It will hurt a bit, but worry not; the pleasure will be far greater than the pain." his body said, grinning wolfishly at Tav who was paralyzed in fear, yet rooted in love.

She was heaving, fear evident in her features. "P-please, just... be gentle."

No! Please, don't kill her! Not her! Astarion's conscience screamed for him to stop, to save the woman he loves from this fate. But he was powerless, trapped inside his own body as it lowered its head towards her exposed neck. The scent of her blood, warm and sweet filled his nostrils. His fangs bore into her flesh and released a mouthful of hot crimson life that made Astarion's instinctual heart pound with excitement even as his soul recoiled in horror.

He felt completely helpless as he witnessed his own body draining the life from Tav, not even able to look away. He was forced to listen to her soft gasps and whimpers, unable to do anything to stop it. The person he loved more than anyone else was slowly dying at his own hands. He could do nothing but watch as she lay on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood, her once vibrant skin now pale and her lips lacking their usual rosy color. Those same lips that he had loved to kiss and watch curve into an easy smile were now still and lifeless.

If he could have shed tears, he would have wept in despair and regret. If he were in his own physical form, he knew he would be retching now. But he could do nothing but scream and claw, the pain all consuming in his soul.

After what seemed like an eternity, his body finally pulled away from Tav's neck and stood up straight. He wiped the blood off his lips with the back of his hand and looked down at Tav's lifeless body with a sense of triumph.

"You were delicious as always, dear," his voice echoed inside Astarion's mind.

And just like that, he was once again drifting through the vast emptiness of space. But his exhaustion and defeat were so overwhelming that he couldn't bring himself to care.

When the light faded after what seemed like hours, Astarion found himself standing in a familiar place - Cazador's Palace once again. But this time, it was... different. At first, he couldn't pinpoint it. But then, he noticed: the paintings on the wall didn't depict his former master anymore. He froze as he watched the stranger with white hair and red eyes watching him from the portrait. The man's face was unknown, but something about him felt...familiar. Remnants from another life.

He couldn't look away from those piercing red eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. His body stepped closer, reaching out a hand to touch the painting.

And he realized, it wasn't a stranger; it was himself. Older, more weathered, and with a haunting look in his red eyes. The first time he was seeing his face in 200 years. His finger slid over the canvas, feeling the rough texture beneath his touch. There was pride emanating from this version of himself and it sent shivers down his spine.

What is this? he whispered inside his mind, his voice cracking with emotion.

The realm of possibilities... that might have unfolded had you embraced ascension... your destiny left unfulfilled... G'axir's voice echoed through his subconscious.

Astarion's stomach churned as his body moved around the room. Everything had been changed. The furniture was placed differently, new artwork adorned the walls, but it still retained its eerie and dark atmosphere as it did with his old master. As he traversed down a never-ending corridor, his steps echoed loudly in the eerie silence. Servants scurried past him, their heads bowed in reverence. But there was something off about them, almost as if they were under some sort of spell. Their movements were stiff and mechanical, and their eyes lacked any emotion or life.

After what felt like an eternity, his body finally reached the grand dining hall. Two servants dressed in impeccably crisp uniforms opened the massive doors for him. The room was filled with the warm, flickering light of numerous candles, illuminating the extravagant decorations adorning the walls. A long table stretched across the room, set with elegant china and silverware that could only belong to a king. But there was no one sitting at the table, creating a strange emptiness in the room. His body continued past the elaborate table, towards a magnificent throne that now stood at the far end of the room.

No. No, no, no.

There, atop the throne, draped in garments more regal than his master Cazador had ever let him wear, sat Tav. Her skin was nearly translucent, veins snaking just beneath the surface like tendrils of a creeping vine. Her eyes radiated an unnatural crimson glow that revealed her spawn nature. Tav's face held no familiarity in its gaze; only vacant submission under her crimson eyes. She looked nothing like the woman he had known - stubborn, fierce, and full of life. Now all that remained was an empty shell drained of hope and vitality, turned into a puppet. The sight of it made his stomach flip. This could not be happening. It was a nightmare.

He watched, appalled, as his body ascended the steps to the throne with a predatory grace. She, on the other hand, stood from the throne, head bowed in submission. He took his place on the seat, pulling Tav onto his lap. She sat there silently, not moving or uttering a single word.

I'm so sorry Astarion whispered brokenly inside his head.

And then, horror upon horror, his body began to speak.

"My beautiful pet," he murmured into the hollow of her neck. "Isn't it a delight to see how far we've come?"

She met the gaze of her new master with an impassive face - a puppet on strings. "Of course. I couldn't be happier, my lord," she replied, though her face remained impassive, not even a ghost of an emotion flickering in her eyes. Her body seemed rigid, save for the slight tremble that shook her form.

She didn't fight back or resist, which only fueled the anger of his ascended self. He could sense its thoughts; how she was now dull and uninteresting, lacking all the fire and fight that she once had.

"Ah, so compliant..." his mouth whispers, tracing a thumb along her jawline - a horribly intimate act that made Astarion's heart lurch in revulsion. "But you've been very bad, trying to sneak out at night," his body continued, pressing its lips against Tav's neck in a mock kiss. "And you know what we do to naughty pets..."

Astarion's mind was filled with revulsion and disgust at the scene happening before him. His worst fear had come true: he had used and abused her feelings until there was nothing left of the person she used to be. He couldn't believe he had almost let himself become so consumed by power. He couldn't believe he had begged for Tav to turn him into this. Into... his master.

He had everything he had ever wanted: power, control, and Tav by his side. And yet, holding all this in his grasp, his body felt empty. Devoid of any emotion. The ritual had given him everything he had hoped for, and he had paid the price with his soul.

"Now," the voice continued, "I think it’s time you show your master just how truly sorry you are."

Ascended Astarion's hand tightened around her throat as he dragged her towards his lips. She struggled against his grip, clawing at his arm and gasping for air, but he was too strong.

"NO! Astarion, please!" She begged, out of breath.

Astarion was panicking, searching for a way out of this nightmare. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break free from his own body's control. As Astarion's mind reached its breaking point, G'Axir's voice echoed back in his head.

In your gaze... the aftermath unfolds... revealing the life consumed by an insatiable hunger for power. G'Axir supplies in his mind. Prepared to venture forth... into the next glimpse?

Astarion could feel his sanity slipping away as he pleaded, Stop this, I beg you! I will do anything but please get me the fuck out of here!

And finally, the vision stopped.

Note: Oof, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions, hard torturous version. I promise next chapters will be lighter than this one. Also, I think I have left my Astarion traumatized (even more). LMK if you want to be added to a taglist :)

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#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #astarion x you

[antimony-medusa]

How To Set Up An Ao3 Exchange

One of the first things I say whenever anyone asks me about running exchanges is that if you have more than about 30 people in the exchange, do NOT try to match it by hand. That is so much work and takes so much time. Use Ao3's matching algorithm. And people say sure, and then they look at how Ao3 works and they go uhhhhhhhhhh I think we can make a google form work. Because google forms are reasonably intuitive to make work, and Ao3 exchanges are— not.

But the thing is, once you understand the underlying logic for Ao3 collections, they are not that bad, and seriously I can't overstate the benefit of having Ao3 do the matching for you. That's like the difference between 80 hours of curating data as it comes in and then matching it (what happened with hand-matching 325 people for holiday exchange), or 2 hours of double-checking the matching (what happened with matching 125 people for 48 hour exchange). You have to put in extra work to get an Ao3 exchange set up, but it super pays off in the end. So! Here is an intro to how Ao3 exchanges work on the back end. This explanation assumes you know how to sign up for an exchange because I've posted ones like that before, for example, here.

Let's get into it.

THE COLLECTION

The first thing you want to do is set up your exchange collection. If you go to your right-hand drop-down menu, you click on My Collections.

That brings you to every collection you have ever made, and you go to to the right and click "New collection".

That brings you into the back end of the collection. You want to go down and put in a name for the collection that will be the url (so no spaces), a display name, an email for the collection to email when something happens to the collection (this will be public, so use a fandom email), and a basic description.

There's places there to do custom icons and headers, but those are optional, but you can go in and make your exchange pretty later if you want!

We are still in the "setting up" stage of the exchange, so once we go to preferences, you want to select all the tick boxes and make it look like this.

Moderated means that you'll have to manually approve things to be added to the collection (not absolutely necessary but can keep out trolls, and it also means that you can manually check that gifts meet minimums before you let them in to the exchange), Closed means that no one can submit things to the collection yet (once you open your exchange you de-select this), Unrevealed means that any works in the collection will show up as "mystery works" and not be readable (so you keep it unrevealed until the posting date, so people can post early but not spoil the surprise), anonymous means that all authors will be anonymous (this depends on if you have an anonymous portion of your exchange, so it's optional), "show random works" just means that you get a selection of different works when people visit the collection at different times, "send a message to the collection email" is optional but is useful for moderation (like if you're checking people off a list when their gifts get delivered), and "type of challenge" you want to be sent to "gift exchange".

and then on this page the only other things of concern are places where you can put in an FAQ, a description and some instructions, but those are all optional! I normally host the FAQ on tumblr, so I just say "go check the tumblr at [link]".

And then you hit the submit button.

Now we get into the nitty-gritty.

First up is some optional stuff— you can add in the times that you're going to do things! This is useful for communication, but not necessary. We're still setting everything up, so you do not want Sign-Ups to be open, that is only selected once you have everything ready to go.

Then scrolling down, you get to Requests and Offers.

This is where you specify the absolute minimum ships or characters that you want people to give you to sign up. 10 is the maximum Ao3 allows, so I always set it to 10 for both "allowed", which is the maximum the site will allow. And required is the low number. I usually set it to a minimum of three, to make sure someone doesn't sign up with "i will only write one ship" or something. This way, people will have to do a minimum of three separate requests and offers.

The "requests visible" is part of the back end thing, and it's up to you if you want to select it or not. If you keep it unselected, the only person who will be able to see requests is the mods, and eventually each person will see their assignment. If you select it, people will be able to browse everyone's requests and both maybe target offers so they can write for a specific person, and be able to find treats (extra bonus gifts) to write for people whose requests they like. Each side has its own benefits or negatives, it's up to you which ones you want to go with!

And here we get into more of the matching info! Let's look at Request Settings.

Now this is what the settings would look like for a multi-fandom exchange. The "details/description" box you want to make mandatory because that is where people will put their DNW and their prompts (and you absolutely want to make sure everyone has a DNW), and the url is an optional one which lets people link an off-site letter on google docs or dreamwidth.

Fandom allowing up to three fandoms means that people can do crossovers if they want (or tag a request something like 3rd life/hermitcraft), and if I wanted to say that people had to request 3 separate servers I would say "must be unique" but I'm okay if people sign up with three Dream SMP relationships in this idea hypothetical exchange, so I'm not selecting the unique button.

I'm ignoring the characters button cause that's extra complication, the only other thing I want to look at is the relationship button. A minimum of 1 ship per request (and there's a minimum of three requests), and let's say you can go up to 20, so people can request LOTS of different ships. I did select "must be unique" so someone can't sign up with the same ship three times. The "allow any" button is off, which means that I will have to select relationships that fit under the fandom that I selected one up, I can't request Shubble/Niki Nihachu (Origins), and put it with a fandom request for Hermitcraft. This has set it so that the absolutely minimum someone can sign up with is 3 relationships (3 requests * 1 relationship each), and the absolute maximum is 200 relationships (10 requests * 20 relationships each).

Requests will look much the same, except I am not putting down details/description or a URL, because I'm not letting people submit requests about what ship they "really" want to match on, they are going to be equally matchable to everyone they offered. Some exchanges will let you submit a requests DNW, but honestly that is so much extra work for the mods, I would not recommend it unless you think it's necessary to stop people from dropping their gifts later.

Okay, so now we take a brief digression into a tag set.

THE TAG SET

Okay so basically a tag set is an extra set of sliders that lets you fine-tune your exchange. If you do not use a tag set, when people sign up they will be able to use every canon tag on the archive, and only canon tags. Which is a LOT of tags, but when I ran an exchange without a tag set there were multiple times of hitting non-canon relationships or tags. But it's also a definite extra complication, tag sets are extra fiddly work and they are even less intituive. If you just want to go without a tag set, skip down to the matching segment. If you do want to avoid hitting people signing up with non-canon tags, keep reading.

I'm gonna say right off the bat that tag sets are the single most like "oh I am getting into the GUTS of the machine" part of running Ao3 exchanges, but if you can make them work they can super streamline both the sign-up (for your participants ) and the matching process (for you).

Oh boy, tag sets. Here we start getting into how exchanges start squeezing the interface to make it do what we want it to. I'm using a tag set, so first I clicked on the "tag set" url there and I made my tag set, and then I came back and selected its name from the drop-down menu on the collection. I leave all the tick boxes open, because selecting them will again restrict you to canon tags, and we specifically want to be open to noncanon tags both because of issues like "ijevin & tiny tim" not being a canon tag, and because the way MCYT tags are wrangled and made canon does not work for how the exchange machine reads information. We specifically want a collection of non-canon tags tuned for our needs. More on that later.

So, I started a new tag set, and I'm over there on that screen, looking at it. What does that screen look like?

Okay so, part of the appeal of a tag set is that your participants are able to specify the difference between "Rendog & InTheLittleWood" and "Rendog/InTheLittleWood". You don't have to worry about people getting undesired shipping, because people were specifying if they wanted shipping when they signed up. You can reduce a great deal of people getting matched badly by using relationship matching, because most of the time even if people want a Tommy-centric fic, there's a pretty big difference between people who want "Tommy & Technoblade" and "Tommy & Dream". By specifying who you want the gift to be about, you remove a big hurdle of matching right away. That's why most exchanges run on relationship matching.

However, if there are 37 people on a given server, that's something like 2,600 possible combinations of people if you include both romantic and platonic, and that's before you start getting into trios, and that's just way too many tags for the mods to enter manually. So what you do is run a nomination period, and for a week or two weeks you go to all your participants and you go "do you want to sign up for this exchange? Nominate the tags you want to use now! If it doesn't get nominated, it can't be used!" And then people head to the tag set to nominate.

So, on this page, you want "visible tag list" to be selected, because you want people to see what's already been nominated so they don't duplicate, and you want "currently taking nominations" to be selected because you will be taking those nominations instead of doing them all yourself.

So you have to set up limits on those nominations.

The point of taking nominations is to make matching easier, so people normally use the same fandom and relationship limits as they are going to use on the sign-up, to make sure there aren't dozens of tags in the tag set that nobody's using, just cluttering up the space. It also helps stop the issue where someone sees a tag in the tag set, goes "oh man I love that ship" and signs up, but its an extra tag that no one intended to offer, so they don't match to anyone. That's why sometimes people keep the amount of tags that can be nominated low, I've seen people limit this to 10 tags, or even 7, so that's up to you.

And you save, and now when you link your participants the tag set, they will have a "nominate" button.

They will hurry over to press that button, and then they will see a page that looks like this.

This is a thing where you absolutely want to give your participants detailed instructions, because what Ao3 will try to do is auto-fill people's nominations with canonical tags. WE DO NOT WANT CANONICAL TAGS. CANONICAL TAGS ARE THE ENEMY OF EXCHANGES. CANONICAL TAGS ARE THE ENEMY OF MCYT EXCHANGES IN PARTICULAR.

Remember back when we clicked the button that says tags have to be unique? The canonical tag for Philza & Technoblade doesn't have a server on it, and people might want to be requesting that relationship for SMPEarth, Dream SMP, Origins SMP, or arguably even QSMP. If you only have the canonical tag, people can only request a specific dynamic once, for one server. And that is a problem for every situation where people interacted on multiple servers, and with the network of overlaps that is Empires/SOS/3rd Life/Hermitcraft and DSMP/Origins/SMPEarth/QSMP, that's going to lead to unhappy participants. So you tell people to nominate the ship and also "disambiguate" it, and add the server in parentheses. And then all your participants will hit the button to submit, and you will go into the "review nominations" button, and you will let those tags into the tag set.

Now I just distributed the tag set to a couple friends, so let's look at what this looks like behind the scenes.

Brace yourself, it's gonna be wild, but I believe we can get through it.

Now here is a perfectly standard look at tag set nominations after a few people have gotten into the tag set. This is why they pay tag mods the big bucks.

As you can see, there are a few things to be gathered. The first things is a bunch of people used the canon tags (because that's what Ao3 tries to get them to do), someone else nominated an x-reader ship, we have one tag there twice (spelled differently), and the tags are Piped (they have both the person's tax name and the username). (You can let tags in that are Piped, but I find that it makes the tag set harder to read, and usually exchanges are character-focused unless you're writing video blogging rpf anyways, so I ask people to submit tags unpiped, using usernames.) And for the tags that were nominated in a way that I want (unpiped, and disambiguated so they're unique), Ao3 is trying to get me to use the canon tag. But I don't want the canon tag, I want a unique tag, with the server on it, with no pipes. So.

So were I moderating the tag set, after a few minutes it would look like this.

That's going through and disambiguating the tags (adding the server, which I could tell because of the fandom it was nominated under), removing the piping and using the usernames instead of tax names, and then re-ordering the names so they're alphabetical so people can find them on the list later, rejecting the x-reader tag, rejecting the duplicate and allowing the one that's spelled correctly through. Amazing. I have tags that I want to use (I did some other tags that were ready to go in other fandoms as well). I hit submit. Am I ready to go?

No, because tag sets are the most complicated part of exchanges.

I open up my tag set, and if I scroll down to "Unassociated characters and relationships" there are a bunch of tags that are are lost, Ao3 doesn't know where to put them. This is because we very carefully made unique tags that have not been wrangled anywhere, and Ao3 said "i don't know where these go" and shoved them all together in a garbage bin at the bottom of the page. So we have to manually go in to associate them to the right fandoms.

You hit the Edit button on the tag set, and scroll down to the bottom, to "tag associations", and start selecting where tags go.

Honestly this is a great time to be listening to a stream or a podcast or something, and then you have the tag set open in another tab so you know what all the unassociated tags are, and you just go down the list like a databasing machine. It is not hard, cause you disambiguated each tag with its own server, it's just time consuming. Note. This is why people go in and accept tags regularly during the nomination period, because if you do this all at the end you've got a BIG job ahead of you.

So, you turned on your VOD playlist and you associated all your tags, and all the tags are where they are supposed to go. You have a beautiful tag set.

But wait, you say, looking at this beautiful tag set. Some of those tags look at little different. What is the "Dream smp and only dream smp" that a couple of them have?

Well.

You see.

Ao3 designed tag sets to work a certain way, and nobody uses them that way. It turns out that "Quackity/Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP)" is a wrangled canon tag, and the system goes "ah, I know where this goes, this is a sub-tag of the major tag, and the top-level tag is Video Blogging RPF, so it goes under Video Blogging RPF, as all MCYT tags do. I am very smart. I have stuck this Dream SMP tag under Video Blogging RPF. I am a good machine". And then you go AUUUUUUUUGH, and then you turn up the podcast a little louder, and then you sit down and you delete the old tag and you write out a new tag that the system doesn't know what to do with, and it goes uhhhhhhh and sticks it in "unassociated tags" and then you go in again and you manually associate it into the right server.

It's not hard, it's just time consuming. Shouting at the tag set like STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO as it helpfully tries to stick dsmp tags in SMPearth and you wrestle it out of SMPEarth and into the right fandom bucket.

Deep breath moment. Honestly that's the most fiddly part of a fiddly process, so if you can get through this you're absolutely golden.

Anyways. You got clean disambiguated unique tags, and then you associated them in the right spot, and then you found the ones that got sorted to the wrong spot and you associated them yourself, and now you have a beautiful tag set ready to go. It's a thing of beauty. Shed a tear. Your participants can select from anything in this tag set, and you know they want to use these specific relationships, because they submitted them to you. What next?

THE MATCHING

Okay. You have your tag set set up and it's accepting nominations. Your participants are filling it out right now. You go back to your collection. it's time to tell it how to match.

This is the "minimum number to match" pane, and this is the minimum numbers to make a successful match. You want 1 for Fandom, and 1 for Relationship, and that's it. People will show up to the machine as a viable match as long as they have submitted a fandom and relationship that matches someone else's offered fandom and relationship.

This is a minimum viable exchange. You're ready to go. As soon as your tag set is done (or immediately if you're not using a tag set), you're ready to go back and open your exchange to sign-ups.

Congratulations!

FURTHER TWEAKING

HOWEVER. There is more that you can do. For example, do you want to allow people to request or opt into NSFW? There's an easy way to do that! First thing is you go back to your tag set, and you scroll down to the "ratings" section that you've been ignoring.

You select G and E, and that way, if people are opting into explicit that means they're okay with NSFW, and if they only select G, that means they only want a non-explicit piece.

Then on the collection you switch the requests and offers sections to include a place to specify a rating.

You want them to definitely specify at least one, and if you maximum allowed is 2, people can opt into both and say "i'm good with whatever"!

Then you scroll down to the matching section, and you tweak that to make sure that people will match on Fandom, Relationship, and at least one Rating.

Bingo. You now have a toggle to turn NSFW on and off.

But a lot of people like to match by TYPE of gift too, specifying if they want art or fic or playlist or web weave etc. How do you do that? Ah, at this point you are master of all you survey, and you can make tag sets do absolutely anything you want. You go back to the tag set and you scroll down to "characters".

Now we were matching on relationships, so the character box is unused. And it lets you put in your own tags. So what you do is you start to add in custom tags.

And then you go back to the Collection settings, and on the requests and the offers you go in to the "characters" section and you say "must select at least one, can select up to six".

And then, you guessed it— you go back to "minimum number to match" and you set that "characters" tab to 1 minimum, 6 maximum. Now people who specified that they wanted Art can be matchable to artists who Offered Art. You have unlimited power, the world is at your fingertips.

There's even more customization that you can do, too! There's "additional tags", which is entirely custom tags you add yourself, that can be anything from specifying if people want fluff or horror or hurt/comfort etc— with the recursive exchange we used it to specify the works people were recursing— I'm considering using it for holidays with the holiday exchange. You can let people opt in or out of major archive warnings by selecting "archive warnings" as a thing that's in the tag set and that you're matching for. Once you understand how the underpinnings of how the machine works, you can wrestle it into almost any shape you want.

So. Whew. That's how exchanges work, under the hood. When I say that this is significantly easier than hand matching the holiday exchange, I ask you to picture just how complicated hand matching gets. Go forth! Thrive! Set up exchanges if you want! The world is your oyster!

Feel free to message me if you have further questions.

#mcyt on Ao3 #fandom exchanges #ao3

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 2

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past)

Word Count: 3377

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law can't trust you yet, so you do everything you can to prove yourself. Will your memories help or hurt you?

Author's Note: I'm really enjoying writing Law in multiple fics, so I can slap different vibes on him like he's trying on different shades of eyeliner 😅

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Other Additional Tags to be Added, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do, young master! You–”

“Now, now, Y/N. What did I tell you? You’re my pretty little thing now, so you get to call me Doffy, alright?”

His large hand cupped your face, warming your cheek that was already warm from his attention. 

He’s smiling at me now. I’m special to him. I mean something to him, finally. 

“Well? Are you going to answer my question properly?”

Doffy’s hand traveled down to your neck, long fingers circling your vulnerable flesh as he waited for you to obey him.

“Yes. I love you, Doffy.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N?”

Law repeated your name softly until you returned, finding yourself in that metal room, a shrine dedicated to his hatred and rage. 

“I’m sorry to have to ask you this,” Law rasped, dipping his face to meet your eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through all these years…”

His brows pinched together when he caught your grimace, and his shoulders slumped. 

Guilt pulled at his features, while you tried to understand which of the emotions inside you were worth focusing on. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you that–”

“I don’t know,” you confessed. Your voice was empty, as if a machine were spilling truths instead of your own lips. 

“I did love him. I know I did,” you continued, staring a hole through Law’s wooden desk. “I’ve been… feeling guilty for a while. Why am I not feeling that anymore?”

Your misty eyes looked up, almost pleading with him for an answer. 

“Loving Doffy is the only thing I’m good at. The only reason he needs me. What use am I–”

“You are worth more than what he takes from you,” he growled, your eyes widening until the mist turned to tears.

Law relaxed his shoulders again, releasing a breath. Those tattooed hands cupped your cheeks, and you sighed as his thumbs wiped away your show of weakness. 

“Y/N,” he soothed, his lips quirking before he continued. He dropped his hands away, and you missed their warmth, especially as those golden eyes hardened again. 

“I don’t want to keep you prisoner, but as much as I'd like to, I can’t trust you yet.”

Nodding, you tried not to shake as fear rolled back over you. 

“I can’t risk this mission. It’s not safe for me to leave you somewhere on your own. But if I let you roam the Polar Tang, interact with my crew… Especially when you can sneak into any room you like–”

“I would never,” you choked out, reaching for one of his hands on the desk. “Please, Law. I won’t betray you, I swear.”

He squeezed your hand in return, but shook his head. 

“I want to believe you, Y/N. But we both know the power he has over people. You might not think you’d betray me now, but he’s been in your head your whole life.”

The weight of loneliness pressed your body down, your hand going limp in his. He squeezed it a few more times until you looked up again. 

“If you're willing to trust me,” he started, his eyes a bit wide, “I have a way to make sure that I can trust you. It won’t hurt–”

“Hurt,” you whispered, wetting your dry lips as you waited for whatever he wanted to do to you.

“I can remove your heart,” he explained, pulling a key from his pocket to unlock the large bottom drawer of his desk. 

With all of the gruesome things you’d seen in your life, you were surprised at the gasp you let out. Law had pulled something from the drawer, holding it up so that you could take a look. 

It was a strange cube, almost glowing with blueish pink light. It looked squishy, and you reached out to touch it before you noticed the steady pulse. It was a beating heart. 

“So that story is true,” you breathed as you watched it in fascination, “you really did steal all of those pirate’s hearts.”

“I did,” he nodded grimly, tucking that heart back into the drawer. “I’ve done a lot of things to prepare for this goal.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You–”

“Take my heart. It’s not helping me out anyway, it might be good to have a break,” you laughed, trying to cover the hollow sound in your words. 

Law stood, and you followed suit, his powerful voice vibrating through you. 

“Room.”

You watched in awe as he created a blue sphere of light to fill the space before coming toward you with his sword. 

“This is just a precaution,” he explained, his breath going heavy. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I'll protect you.”

“I trust you,” you admitted before you held your breath. 

You couldn’t follow all of the emotions that crossed his face, until he drained them all away. He looked at you as if you were just a problem to be solved. A loose end to tie up to make sure his plan would succeed.

His sunny eyes were as cold and distant as the vacuum of space when he held the tip of his blade to your chest.

“Scalpel.”

You couldn’t remember the last time a weapon had hurt you. There was no need to worry about being injured in battle when you hadn’t left the castle in so long. 

Doffy was the only one that could hurt you, besides the sea and its stone.

Nothing could cut through mist. 

Law was so confident in his ability that you hadn’t questioned him. Instead, you tried to cooperate, somehow willing your body to stay solid so he could rip you open. 

But the blade at your chest seemed as weak as your own abilities. 

Until it pierced your flesh.

“You’re okay,” Law assured you as he pressed further, your gasping breaths slowing as you realized there was no pain. 

“Would you like to hold it?”

Such a strange feeling, gazing at your own beating heart. The very core of your being, the thing that keeps you alive. 

Sitting in the palm of your hand like a piece of fruit.

“What happens if I squeeze it?”

“It would hurt very– Y/N, stop!”

Law pulled your heart from your grasp as you fell to your knees. The pain was indescribable, radiating from your chest through your whole body, as if your veins were on fire. Nausea came as the pain burned through you, and you leaned your forehead against his desk as he knelt beside you. 

“Why would you do that,” he questioned, almost scolding you like he would when you were kids. 

“Most things can’t hurt me,” you choked out, tilting your head up to see his grumpy face. “I was just curious.”

He frowned before sitting on the floor beside you, pushing the chair out of his way as he looked you over. 

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Have you been having thoughts of harming yourself?”

“What? No,” you exclaimed, sitting straight as the pain started to fade. “I promise, I just… I don’t know. I’ve never been handed my own fucking heart before. It was like an impulse.”

“You’ll tell me if you start having thoughts like that,” he requested after a pause, making you squirm with embarrassment. 

“I promise, I’m sorry. I was stupid.”

Law helped you to your feet, then gripped your shoulder until you were caught in his serious glare. 

“That was a stupid thing to do, but you are not stupid.”

You scrunched your face up, and sat down, itching to forget everything that happened in the last hour.

“This is just a precaution,” he repeated, locking your heart in that bottom drawer. You tried not to stare as he tucked the key into his pocket, but a sick taste of guilt hit your tongue.

I wouldn't need a key to steal my heart back. I could just mist into the drawer, and absorb it. 

You gulped down the pressure to confess, to tell him to hide it somewhere else. 

I’m not gonna steal it back, but I don’t know him anymore. I should be careful. 

“Now,” Law cleared his throat, picking up his notepad again, “do you know anything about Doflamingo’s dealings with Kaidou?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him. Everything just felt blank.

“I don’t… I’m not important enough to know anything,” you explained, the words burning your throat on the way out. “I’m sorry, I probably won’t be able to help much.”

Law sat back in his chair, tapping his pen against his lips while he assessed you.

I’m still fucking useless. 

‘Can’t do anything on your own, huh? Just listen to Doffy, you’ll be the perfect little doll for me, alright?’

“Were you with him a lot?”

“What,” you coughed, your skin flushing to the tips of your ears. 

“No, I– that’s not what I…” Law sighed, shaking his head to clear his own words away. “Did he have you with him throughout the day? During meals, maybe while he took calls or meetings?”

“Oh,” you said softly, noticing yourself going fuzzy again, staring into nothing as you tried to recall.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“I mean no offense, Joker, but shouldn’t we be discussing this in private?”

“Oh, don’t mind her, Caesar,” Doffy laughed, rubbing his hand over your back as you lounged in his lap. “She can’t do any harm.”

The scientist frowned at you for a moment. You couldn’t tell if he was wearing makeup, or if his skin really was that pale, his lips almost purple. He met your eyes before shifting his own away from you, and away from Doffy’s fingers that trailed over your thighs, your neck. 

Doffy always touched you so gently when visitors were around, and you melted into him. 

If not for Caesar’s grating laugh, you might have drifted off. Instead, you jolted now and then, Doffy’s hands clutching a little tighter. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Are you al–”

“I remember something. Doffy sent Monet with a scientist, this weird guy with–”

“Caesar Clown,” he prompted, his brow arching a bit.

“Yeah. And I guess you wouldn’t know Monet, she joined after you…”

Law pointed to a picture on the wall, your gaze slow in following the gesture. 

“I know of her.”

Your eyes were drawn to a shot of Monet, her wings curled around her as she read a book with those odd, hypnotizing glasses of hers. Memories of her disapproval hit you, a sigh escaping your lips as you tried to rid yourself of her judgments. 

“She’s even more loyal to Doffy than the rest of– than everyone else. She’s almost obsessive. That’s probably why he sent her.”

Law’s body had gone taut, like electricity was running through him as he set his pen to the paper. 

“Please, Y/N, tell me everything you can remember. Even if it doesn’t seem important.”

~

Your brain felt like a wet rag, with Law wringing out every detail of every call or meeting you could think of. 

It seemed strange how much you could recall from your quiet perch on his lap. You were always so bored, but had to fight yourself not to space out or yawn.

Doffy’s possessive fingers along your skin were wonderful, your revealing clothing giving him so much access. As bored as you could get, those teasing touches in front of visitors prepared your body for what came later. 

It was a relief to wet his thigh with slick before he dismissed the guests. He rarely had the patience to prep you any other way. 

You’d spaced out on those memories, Law’s face pinching in concern as he watched your nails digging into your arms.

“Are you hungry? We can continue tomorrow.”

Groaning at the thought, you followed Law back to the galley. He didn’t have much luck in calming his crew this time. They surrounded the two of you until Law begrudgingly introduced you, and your hand was shaken by many greasy, steamy hands pulled out of gloves, and one bear’s paw that you were very hesitant to touch. 

“I’m sorry about what I said before,” Bepo drawled, true sadness seeming to drip from his voice. “I just really love our cap–” 

“Bepo,” Law scolded, and you turned to scold him back as the bear scurried off.

“How could you be so mean, did you see his–”

“Don’t fall for his sad bear eyes,” Law bristled, and you held in your smile at his discomfort. 

“Is that something you’ve learned from experience,” you teased, earning you a scowl.

Law tucked into his meal, not meeting your eyes as he replied. 

“I know my crew.”

“Oh yeah? They all seem to think you’re the most wonderful man in the world. Could the Surgeon of Death be a big softie?”

If looks could kill.

“Okay, sorry,” you teased between bites, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You do realize that I could take away your tongue if I wanted to,” he threatened, with what looked like the barest touch of pink gracing his cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d enjoy some alone time with it.”

Law raised his brows as you clamped your hand over your mouth, your face going hot. He looked too smug, his lips curling as if trying not to laugh. 

“Shut up,” you choked out, putting your misty hands in your lap. 

“I’m not the one whose tongue keeps wagging,” he taunted, somehow keeping that stoic air about him, just a hint of playfulness showing through. 

You stuck that tongue out at him before focusing on your meal, and the low chuckle he let escape was hardly noticeable over the nearby conversations of his crew.

But you noticed it. 

Warmth tingled through your body, and your face was still burning by the time he led you to your room.

~

“Will you be alright in here,” he checked in, standing outside the door to the small room he’d set up for you in the barracks. “The crew are on rotating shifts, so there will always be someone sleeping or getting ready nearby if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you said in a small voice. The realization that you were about to be alone in a cramped, metal room made your skin crawl.

“Are you o—“

“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” you lied with a smile. You were good at lying with smiles. 

“Okay,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll, uh… I’ll come wake you in the morning, alright? We can have breakfast before we continue going over what you remember.”

“Sounds good,” you chirped. Your cheeks started to hurt as you waved him out, letting your muscles relax after he’d closed that heavy door. 

Quiet.

Not completely. Clanging sounds of the sub interrupted the stillness. Soft voices floated in the hallway beyond that door. 

But now that you were alone…

Thoughts. Memories. Fear. Shame. Guilt. 

Falling back on the single bed, you choked out silent sobs, the flood of emotions slamming into you. You had left your world, dove off the edge of a waterfall, but now you were caught beneath the crashing water, drowning while your body was ripped apart. 

What have I done? How could I leave the family? How could I betray Doffy? 

I’m nothing but scum. Useless my whole life, and now I’m a traitor.

Your mind went in endless loops. Gratitude for Law taking you away. Guilt for betraying the family. Relief that you weren’t stuck in that mindless existence anymore. Terror that Doffy would find and kill you both slowly. 

It hurt. Your whole body hurt, your head pounding like the clanging metal of the submarine.

And you couldn’t understand how you could feel your heart breaking and burning in your chest when it was locked up in Law’s office. 

“Y/N, can I come in?”

His knock had sent you to the ceiling, your body spread into cowardly mist while you tried to calm down. 

“Y/N,” he checked again, concern staining his voice. 

“Just a second,” you stalled, going solid in front of the door. You shook yourself, wiped your tears, and took a few quiet breaths before opening the door with another beaming smile. 

“What’s up?”

Law didn’t look at you like an old friend, an enemy, or a captain on a mission. 

He looked at you like a doctor, and you tried not to squirm.

“What’s that,” you pointed to the lump of shiny fabric he held under one arm.

He coughed, looking down at his shoes before returning your gaze, seeming to rebuild that doctor persona.

“You’ve been through an intense amount of trauma, and the shock of… If you would feel comfortable, I’d like to sleep on the floor in here tonight, just to make sure you’re okay. I could sleep outside the door if you prefer, I just—“

He glanced down at your clenched fists, and you tried to relax them as he continued. 

“I want you to feel safe.”

I’ll never be safe. I’m a traitor. I’m weak. I’ll be tortured before they kill me. 

Doffy will…

The lump in your throat burned, and you filled the room with thick mist so he wouldn’t see you shatter, sinking to the floor as you clawed at your empty chest.

Law closed the door, calling your name as he moved blindly toward you. You could feel him in your mist, and you could have avoided him. You could have let yourself expand into tiny droplets of water, keeping yourself away from any care or comfort he could try to provide. 

But you couldn’t think. Just heave silent sobs, and struggle through breaths that took in more mist than oxygen.

“Y/N– fuck,” he cursed, stubbing his toe on the bed as he waved his arms around slowly. 

The mist told you that he’d gone to his knees, crawling close to you in the small space, but you couldn’t do anything with that knowledge. 

Warm fingers found your arm, pressing lightly along to figure out what he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry I’m touching you, I just need to make sure you’re alright,” he breathed, tracing along your shaking body until he found your neck. His fingers almost burned your clammy skin as he took your pulse before gripping your shoulder gently. 

The way that you could see through your eyes was different than how you could see as mist, or through the mist you create, but you had no way to describe the difference. Through the mist, you saw him lean close, his head above yours as if he could see through the mist too. 

“I’m here. I’m right here with you, Y/N.”

Time was impossible to track as you alternated between crying and dissociating, Law’s calm presence never wavering. Eventually, your mist cleared up, from exhaustion instead of choice. 

He lifted your limp body, tucking you into the small bed before rolling out his sleeping bag.

“You don’t have to sta–”

Law interrupted your slurred words with a harsh glare, but sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

His eyes seemed brighter in this dim room, his voice too soft, yet firm.

Staring into nothing, you felt numbness trying to take you again, but words jumped out of you before you drifted away. 

“Why does it still hurt,” you accused, tapping against your chest with angry fingers, desperate to rip these feelings out. “You took my heart, Law. Why does it still hurt so bad?”

Somehow, more hot tears fell, your body too weak to keep tearing at the hole inside. 

Law’s eyes trailed away, gone to some other time, some other place. When he came back to you, he took your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If I could cure a broken heart, I wouldn’t be able to complete my mission.”

His words felt as hollow as your chest. You managed to squeeze his hand, pulling in his distant eyes. 

“So we can be broken together then,” you asked, your voice still hoarse as your lips lifted into a weak smile.

Law huffed a laugh, lifting your fingers to his lips before kissing his promise onto your skin.

“Broken together.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I knew I was going to go crazy when I started writing for Law, and I was correct. I'm obsessed with this emotionally wrecked man 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 3

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

#fic requests #trafalgar d law x reader #doflamingo x reader #eventual smut #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #smut #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece x reader #use of y/n #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar law smut #one piece angst #cw dark content #cw grooming #cw dubcon #cw toxic relationship #cw emotional abuse #angst

[tartarusknight]

The Fallen King and the King of the Freaks | Part 1

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Steve didn't have the heart to tell the kids about how Billy didn't back off after Max's threat. Not when they seemed to look up to him for some reason. So, instead, he stayed out of Billy's way as much as he could. But it seemed like the man was hunting him down. It got to the point that Steve dropped basketball.

Steve got used to being slammed into lockers and taunts from the people he used to friends with. So what if he wasn't top dog anymore? So what if he didn't have any friends his own age? So what if Nancy dumped him (ripped his heart out and stomped on it with bullshit)? So what if Billy left bruises on his body with well time jabs and kicks? Steve was an adult he could handle this...

However, as he was shoved into the janitors closet and hearing the lock click behind him, he thought maybe it was getting worse. He slammed his shoulder to the door but it didn't budge and he heard Billy's stupid laughter outside. "Enjoy your alone time, princess," Billy taunted.

Steve slid to the ground and tried not to panic. He wasn't going to freak out just because it's dark and he doesn't have anything to protect himself. He really wasn't going to. He wasn't that much of a loser that he was scared of the dark.

Then he started to cry. He normally was a silent crier, but normally, he wasn't struggling to breathe. He curled around himself and tried not to think of creatures with mouths that took up their entire head and opened like flower petals. Really, he was trying. But Steve just couldn't focus.

There was a soft voice outside the door that shook him from his isolation. "Hey man, you alright?" A dude questioned, and Steve tried to focus so he could answer. "Imma pick the lock, just gimme a minute. I've got ya," the voice was smooth, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't really want to be seen at the moment, but he wanted out more.

The door clicked, and Steve crawled back so it could open. Eddie Munson was crouched there, a few things in his hands that he probably used to pick the lock. The known drug dealer looked frozen in shock at the sight of Steve, and Steve basically plowed into him to get out of the room quickly.

His brain was fried, and he really wanted to cling to Munson and let the calm voice focus him. Instead, he backed off and pressed his back to the wall, hanging his head between his thighs. "Thanks," he mumbled and hid his tear stained face from the other.

"Uh, it's um, not a problem... Usually, I'm helping others after you pick on them, though," Eddie's voice wasn't as soft as it had been. It made Steve wince and curl up tighter on himself. Of course, Munson would hate him...

"Never shoved anyone in janitor closets before," he said instead.

"Ahh, lockers then."

Steve shook his head, "You could really hurt someone doing that. What if no one found them? Or if they passed out or something?" He pointed out and finally looked up at the other boy. Eddie was just staring at him like he's never seen Steve before. "I never wanted to hurt anyone," Steve breathed out, but it came out more snappish than he meant it to.

"Right... so how come King Steve was shoved into the closet?" Eddie questioned and Steve looked away from him. "Did you sleep with someone's girl-"

"Jesus man, I get it! You hate me but can you fucking stop? Not everything that happens to me is my fault, okay?" Steve snapped, and Eddie flinched back. "Fuck, stop acting like I'll hurt you, Jesus. Billy's just an asshole who needs a punching bag, okay? And he learned that he can take he down, okay?" He gestured to the slowly healing bruises on his face.

Eddie was staring at him, "why you?"

Steve scoffed, "cause he can't take it out on his sister anymore? Cause he's an asshole with mommy issues? Or maybe just because he knows I won't fight back! I don't know, I'm not in his brain! I don't know what he thinks when he trips me in the hallway or throws a ball at my head in the gym!"

Eddie blinks and gets up to his feet, but then he holds out his hand in offering. "Come on, man." Steve takes it and lets Eddie pull him to his feet. He's still a little shaky, but he manages to stay on his feet. "I've been known to adopt lost sheep," he's guided away towards the exit and he's so shocked he doesn't fight it.

"Thought you hated me," He points out.

Eddie laughs, "eh, you can just buy me dinner." Eddie pauses for a moment, but Steve is already nodding. It makes Eddie grin, and he throws an arm around his shoulder. "Welcome to the land of the outcasts. Here I'm the king." He gestures to the group of people smoking by one of the picnic benches outside.

"You'll lose a few cool-dude points if you're seen with us," Eddie smiles like it's funny but Steve just feels bad. These were the people he never stood up for. These were the people he never looked at, just ignored.

Steve smiles and looks at Eddie, "you inviting me into the Munson cult?"

Eddie's grin goes sharp, "You gotta earn that. I'm offering you a starting point."

Steve thinks about how lonely he's been and how kind Eddie's voice had been. "So, how do I climb up the ladder? My only skills are giving rides, basketball, and hair."

"Don't forget the Harrington charm," Eddie grins and it's kinder. "Show us yourself, and we'll see from there." He whispers before turning to the group of people.

"Gentlemen, we have a traveler from the halls of royalty! He's come to bless us with his presence!" Eddie's voice is filled with so much emotion. Steve almost misses the way the group tenses up.

Steve might have a while to go before they trust them. But he thinks maybe it could be worth it. Especially as Eddie looks back at him with a smile that makes Steve's stomach flip. "Uh, hey," he smiles awkwardly, wiggling his fingers in greeting.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #season 2 au #steve needs a hug #king steve #billy hargrove is an ass #steve x eddie #steddie fic #the fallen king and the king of the freaks

[lady-lostmind]

Bittersweet

Love is: Missing each other.

a @steddielovemonth prompt Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 891 | Rating: T

ao3 link

Steve hurries in the door, throwing his bag down and rushing to the phone, snatching it off the hook. “Eds?”

Eddie’s voice rings through the line. “Hey, Sweetheart.”

Steve sighs, slumping against the wall, heart still pounding in his chest. “Thought I was going to miss you. I got out later than I thought.” 

Eddie sighs. “You kind of did, baby. I’m sorry. I’ve been calling for like twenty minutes. We have to leave soon. I just…really wanted to hear your voice so I’ve been stalling.”

Steve feels a lump form in his throat and he tries to push back the tears welling in his eyes. “Fuck. Okay, I’m sorry. I uh– fuck.  I miss you.” 

Eddie pulls away from the phone and Steve can hear a muffled argument happening on the other end of the line, probably with one of the guys from the band. Eddie comes back, full volume, and clearly frustrated. “I miss you too, Stevie. I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll try to call tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay, I lov–” Steve sighs as the dial tone rings out in his ear, and slumps against the wall. 

He hates this. Hates that he only gets to talk to Eddie for a few minutes every couple of days. Hates that every conversation is rushed. Hates that he feels anxious if he’s out of the house for too long, not knowing when Eddie might get the chance to call. 

He hates that he kind of hates the band. That he hates this tour. Because he’s thrilled for Eddie. He is. He’s so glad that he’s getting to live his dream. That the band got signed. That the tour is almost sold out. He is. Eddie deserves for all his dreams to come through. It’s just– things are moving so fast. And they were just really settling into a life together and now…

Steve just misses him. He misses him so fucking much. Misses coming home to his crazy loud music. Misses falling asleep in his arms. Misses the way he would hop up from whatever he was doing to give Steve a kiss goodbye. He misses him all the time. 

So, yes. He’s so happy for Eddie. And wants nothing more than for this to go well. He hopes he’s having the time of his life. It just also…really sucks.

–

Eddie shoves Gareth who just hung up on Steve, and tries to grab the phone back from him. “What the fuck, man. He’s going to think I hung up on him!”

Gareth rolls his eyes, holding the phone out of Eddie’s reach. “We’ve been waiting on you for like half an hour, man!”

Terry sticks his head out of the bus. “LET’S GET A FUCKING MOVE ON!”

Eddie sighs, dropping his hold on Gareth and rolling his eyes at him when he just stares at him, waiting to make sure he’s actually heading back. Eddie turns around and jogs over to the bus, hoping they make a pit stop early tomorrow before Steve heads to work. 

No one ever tells you that having all your dreams com true is going to like, kind of fuck up anything good you already had going on in your life. And Eddie had it fucking made, okay? He landed Steve Harrington. Steve motherfucking Harrington. And this tour is fucking it up. 

Sure, it’s fucking amazing. It’s everything he ever dreamed it would be. Playing to thousands of people a night, hearing them scream the lyrics to his songs back at him. Getting to do the whole rockstar thing. Which, okay. That’s maybe being a little generous still. They’re not playing sold out stadiums or anything. They’re not fucking Metallica. But like, they have fans. They’re selling out venues. Sure, small ones. But a sold out show is a fucking sold out show. And they’re making like, actual real money. Eddie can say that he is a professional musician. Because he is currently supporting himself with his music. And that shit is cool, okay. He is goddamn ecstatic about that shit. 

But he misses Steve. A lot. And he hates that he can hear the hurt in his voice every time they talk. He would never tell Eddie. But he can tell. That this is fucking killing him. And he’s not doing so hot himself. Turns out you get used to it when a pretty boy is constantly smiling at you and giving you kisses when you walk by. He’s in fucking withdrawl, okay? Plus like…he was getting laid. Like, regularly. That’s not something he ever thought he’d have. He misses snuggling up to Steve at night, their hands wandering, and getting to hear Steve’s voice turn all breathy. 

And it’s not just the sex. He misses the sex, okay? He’s only human. But he misses Steve. He misses their shitty little apartment. He misses going to pick him up from work and take him to dinner. He misses the way Steve hums in the shower. He misses when he gets all sleepy when they watch a movie on the couch, clearly dozing against Eddie’s chest but insisting that he’s still watching. He misses the way he lights up when Eddie walks in the door, going all puppy eyes and smiles. 

So, yeah. He gets to be a rockstar. But he misses his fucking boyfriend. 

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fanfic #steddielovemonth #day 10 #love is missing each other #long distance #rockstar eddie munson #lady lostmind

[sevsdollette]

Not So Sweet [Sevika x fem reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49324864/chapters/137713357

content warning: trigger warning for violence against the reader. if mean men in bars freak you out, read with caution. other than that, alcohol, gambling, smoking, and smut (obviously). reader eats sevika out. fingering. sorry if you just want it to be sevika doing shit to the reader, but yk the woman has needs as well.

summary: You go out with Sevika as her gambling date. It’s a calm night at the Last Drop where everything should be fun and easy. But your beauty doesn’t just attract Sevika.

chapters:

1. Relaxing Night

2. A Long Night at Work

3. A Gamble of A Night

note: tell me why every chapter title has the word night in it. i’m back @-@. so yeah it’s been a minute. hope no one is too mad at me. this one maybe a bit shorter than the others? not entirely sure. also i know this ends with like a cliff hanger, but i promise the next chapter will leave no holes in the time line. you gays will get what you want. sorry if there’s spelling mistakes i wrote most of this on my phone. it’s not like i’m an AP english student or anything (i am :/) also sorry for the format being a bit different. tumblr is pissing me the fuck off right now. i don’t care to fix the spacing between the paragraphs. i’m tired.

————————————18+————————————

The glow of the Last Drops neon sign felt a bit more familiar than before. This time, more than a drink was waiting for you inside.

It was a clear, hot night with busy streets and crowded alleys, and you were wearing a black catsuit with long sleeves and shorts that hardly covered your ass. The zipper down the front was pulled so low the clothes were practically falling off of you.

This time, when you walked up to the bouncer, past the long, impatient line, you hardly had to open your mouth before he was opening the door and letting you in. The groans and hateful stares of the people waiting felt like a crown on your head. You were still scum, sure, but for the night you were important.

On that evening, the bar wasn’t full of screaming patrons and blasting music, but slow, cool jazz. It was their calmest night where the low lamps gave off an orange-red glow on the deep wooden walls, and every shadow seemed comforting. People sat calmly at their tables, passing cards and taking shots. The ceiling hung low with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes. A sweet smell of booze wafted through the room, making any nasty smell of the people buying the drinks.

In her normal corner booth, Sevika was sitting with four men, cigarette pressed between her lips and cards in her hands. She was laughing lightly as she passed a card into the center of the table. The candle in the middle of the room illuminated her face and curved around her features. Beautiful, you thought, staring at her vibrant eyes.

As you waded through the tables of the room, she noticed you approaching, glancing over as the conversation at her table continued. Keeping an eye on you. You kept your cool, only giving a small smile back as you approached. Men of the bar kept looking up at your figure as you walked by their tables, admiring the way the leather suit curved over your hips and hugged your thighs.

The other men at the table were just as harsh and brutish as Sevika, all with scars over their faces or hands, rugged clothes, and a mean glare. They were younger than her but older than you, and they didn’t seem too friendly when you came up to the table.

One of them, with white blonde hair and a blind eye, wrinkled her nose as he looked you up and down. With a toothpick in his mouth, he questioned, “Who’s that?”

Sevika cleared her throat, looking down at her cards as she drew another from the deck. “I hired her.”

You froze, brow furrowing as your upper lip curled. Your services didn’t involve simple company at a bar. You surely didn’t want to be here if she was going to pay you for it.

She chuckled under her breath, looking up at you. “I’m kidding, doll. Sit down.” She tapped the spot on the cushion next to her.

Apprehensive, you sat beside her slowly. If this night was just going to be her being a bitch, you weren’t going to get involved. You could go back to Babettes and earn your dinner like always. You didn’t need her free food. And her expensive rum. And her perfectly rolled clove cigarettes…

The more you looked around the table, the longer you wanted to stay. You’d seen her and her men around the bar before but never noticed how nice of a night they always had. Each man was sitting comfortably around the booth with either a cigar, cigarette, or drink, lounging as they waited for the game to start. The loud music was slightly muffled, making the table almost cozy and closed off.

They were just finishing a game as you got there, a pile of coins in front of Sevika and dwindling collections by the other players. They were settling bets and getting more drinks, idle conversation as everyone got ready for another round. Sevika shuffled the deck and delt you your own hand.

You were sitting close to her, but just far enough away so you didn’t touch. A distance she would have to choose to close if she really wanted to. Yes, you liked her and wanted her attention, but you weren’t going to devote yourself to her to get it. If she really liked you, she’d take what she wanted.

And it didn’t take her long. As she was puting your cards down in front of her, she smiled and met your eyes. Her gaze drifted down your neck, chest, and down to your lap. She was close, her broad figure looming beside you enough to block your view of three of the men.

Her eyebrows raised. “You’ve got something on your neck.”

A heat hit your face as you rubbed the skin under your chin. God, you couldn’t look decent just once. “What is it?”

“Something I left for you.”

Your hands dropped and you rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

She smiled wider, shaking her head and sitting back. The tables was coming back together and everyone was picking up their cards as a waitress came around with more drinks. She had a glass for you and Sevika poured you some rum. The waitress smiled a bit too sweetly at Sevika when she said thank you, and it made you inch a bit closer to her.

You picked up your cards and sipped your drink. Rum was never your favorite, but in this setting, it felt right. Your deal wasn’t the worst, but you;d defitnety have to sit out for the round. You were trying to play your best.

At the brothel, you and your tolerable coworkers would play and gamble during slow hours all the time. Your room was the hot spot where everyone would crown around the coffee table, taking a smoke break, and having good fun. It was never that serious, everyone putting their earrings or hair clips in as prizes only to hand them back at the end of the game. But, there was a skill level that all of you developed.

And you were the best.

You all got through two games that Sevika won. She truly enjoyed it. A sly smile spread across her face as she collected everyone’s coins, only handing you a coy apology and running her hand up your though to make up for it. It didn’t matter to you. Your cards weren’t that good anyway.

Though, you liked the way she got when she was that happy. She was touchy. She would “accidentally” brush her hand over your tit, and she really liked to fiddle with that zipper that rested between your ribs. You’d push her away, saying something about how stupid she was being and how the alcohol was getting to her, and she’d give a boozy smile and turn to shuffle the cards again.

On the third game, you got a good hand. A really good hand. You kept your cool as you saw the empress and her court smiling up at your on the painted card. Every mention of a tell that your friends had mentioned to you ran through your head and you hid every sign. No one would know. You would win.

It took great thought to get through. Early on, Sevika noticed how much more focused you were, and it caused her to keep putting more money on the table. The men all had relatively bad hands except for one, but he backed out after a while, not trying to get in the middle of whatever mental battle you and Sevika were engaged in.

In the end, with the final turn of a card, you had won. With a huge pile of copper in teh middle fo the table, you whooped and bounced in your seat, grinning as you pulled all of the money towards yourself.

Sevika was angry. You could see it in the way she wouldn’t look at you adn how she stared into her empty glass. Her jaw was clamped tightly shut and she was thinking hard, still looking at the coins you’d taken from her. It wasn’t her fault. She hardly knew you, and she had expected you to be moer of an open book then your were. To be truthful, she dind’t know the half of who you were, and that was her fatal flaw.

Part of her still thougth of you as those prissy virgins she usually saw. It was hard for her to accept that she liked someone so similar to her own spiteful nature. She didn’t like it unless you two were naked, apparently.

She swallowed and shook her head. “I let you win.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Shut up.”

A fake laugh tossed itself from her lips and she held her hands in helplessness. “Just trying to be nice. If I beat you every time, you won’t enjoy it so much. There’s no way you can actually win.”

“Sevika—“ You scoffed, shaking your head at her as you wondered why she fucking bothered to say those things. “Whatever. I’m going to get a cocktail.”

She chuckled bitterly as you stood up. “Rum’s too strong?”

You held your middle finger up behind you as you stomped to the bar. Sevika muttered something else under her breath that you didn’t want to hear. The lively jazz that filled hte bar felt so suffocating now as you walked past a betting table thick with smoke. You didn’t need her pouting just because you won. It was supposed to be a fun night. Only a baby cried because they lost a stupid game.

You sat at the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender was a nice but nervous man who must’ve known who you were accompanying. He stuttered as he took your order and nearly dropped the vodka when he went to pour it. He was good at his job though adn your drinks as sweet with an after taste that stung your throat. You thanked him and made soem idle conversation, knowing that Sevika was watching you out of the corner of her eye.

You could feel the heat of her anger even from that far away. You planned on sitting at the bar for a little longer, let them play a game without you so she could get a win back under her belt. Maybe then she’d be nicer.

The bartender Thieram was a nice man who made you rlaugh once or twice as you sipped your drink. He was respectful. Most men either didn’t like you or liked you too much. It wasn’t often your found someone who treated you like a friend.

This fact was proven a few minutes later when a man steppe dup to the bar to order a beer. He was probably almost thirty with black hair graying on the sides and a long tattoo down her left forearm. He was ugly. But ugly in a way that some people found very attractive, though the second you stared at him for too long, he looked like an abstract painting.

You only glanced at him for a second before stirring your drink while waiting to talk to Thieram again. He had a deep, angry voice. After Thieram turned away, he stayed at the bar and leaned against it, turning to face you. “You alright, babe?”

You didn’t look up. “Who are you calling babe?”

“Just a pretty woman I see at the bar.” He chuckled. “I’m Leox.”

“And I’m not interested.”

None of your blatant signals got through to him. In fact, he stepped closer. Enough that you could smell the weed he’d been smoking. “Come on. You seemed kinda upset at your table. Why don’t you come and join mine? I’ll treat you real good.”

“Oh, will you?”

“Yes,” he sighed. He leaned in, brushing your hair off your forehead. “I will.”

“Hm,” you hummed, closing your eyes as you pretended to enjoy his flirting. “Well…”

You pushed him away. “I’m still not interested.”

You only did men if they paid you for it.

The firm hand you placed on his shoulder withdrew only slightly before he gripped your wrist in place. For a brief moment your breath caught as he tugged you off of your stool and you were stumbling into him.

He grabbed your jaw firmly and pulled your face up to look at him. “Why couldn’t you just be nice? I know you’re just some whore. I could’ve paid well too.”

You jerked from his grasp, trying to turn around to get free and run out of there. He smelt awful and his breath was hot in your face. His teeth were yellow.

You were able to jam your heel into his toes, making him flinch so you could wriggle free, but as you were getting away, his foot caught under you and you fell to the ground. Your palms took the blunt of the pain as you scrambled to get yourself up.

As you pulled yourself to your feet, a heavy set of footsteps was storming past you and towards the man. In your panic, and with the moment being so quick, you hardly heard what she was saying to him—yelling at him.

You spun around, uneasy on your feet, and only saw their final interaction: Her fist against his face.

Once such a strong, intimidating man crumbled into a heap on the floor. Sevika stood over him, shimmer coursing through her metal arm and heavy breaths moved her shoulders, flexing the muscle. She turned around and you only saw the faint glint of purple in her eyes before she passed you again and ordered her men to take the guy out back. Teach him a lesson, she said.

The bar was silent. The woman humming low jazz was standing shocked beside her accordion player, the other patrons were trying to keep their gazes down, and Thieram was standing helpless behind the bar, terrified. You felt your face get hot as you stepped back subconsciously, your arms crossing and hugging your ribs.

Sevika was done barking orders and came up to you, pulling you back into the private room of the bar. The familiar place almost brought back amusing memories if you weren’t so upset.

She pulled you into her arms, examining you and making sure you were alright. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’m fine. Shit like that happens all the time to me.”

She exhaled heavily through her nose and looked at the door. She must’ve been pondering whether to go help her men or not, but your hand on hip kept her there.

You two ended up sitting on the couch together sharing a cigarette. You were beside her with your legs rested across her lap and your head on her shoulder. She had her hand gripping your thigh and her metal arm wrapped over your shoulders.

You looked up at her face after a long drag and saw how tense her face was, how she didn’t seem to be moving an inch. Staring off into space with a firm furrow in her brow.

“Sev?” You frowned, brushing her stray hairs off her forehead. “Don’t be so upset. Everything’s okay.”

Sure, you were a bit shaken, but men were always like that to you. It wasn’t right, but it was something you had to get used to. She’d have to understand that if she were to be around you.

She pursed her lips. “It’ll be okay as long as he gets what he deserves.”

You ran your thumb over the muscles of her collar. “Just try to calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

You sighed, understand the aggression wasn’t towards you. To be honest, you didn’t feel unsafe at all with her. Even though her eyes still sparkled violet when the lamplight caught it.

“Everything will be okay,” you assured. “I’m fine and he’s gonna get what’s coming to him. Relax, dear.”

Again you rubbed her collar and shoulder, your fingers trying to ease any tension she had. You leaned in to place a small kiss under her jaw, and as your lips brushed her skin, she held you tighter against her.

You kissed her neck again, lingering to drag your tongue over her in a way that made her sign and settle into the couch. The action spurred you on and you left another heavy kiss to her pulse point, making sure to leave proof that you did so.

You climbed into her lap and straddled on of her thighs, the right muscle fitting right against your clit. She let you tilt her head back so you could keep up your actions.

“What…”

A sly smile spread across your lips and you kissed below her ear. “Just trying to help you relax,” you cooed, a bit of mischief in your voice as one of your hands fiddled with the top button of her vest.

As you pulled the button free, her hand on your thigh got ever so slightly tighter and you remembered the shimmer in her system.

“Come on, Sev, don’t be so upset. Don’t let him ruin the night.”

You dragged your kisses down her chest, letting more of her buttons become undone until she was helping you pull her arms out of the sleeves and you tossed her shirt onto the other side of the couch.

She looked magnificent, curving muscle winding down her stomach, scars lacing her skin, and her breasts dark and nipples pebbled from the cold.

As you took the moment to admire her, she grabbed your ass and nudged you to keep going. You’d never expect her to be so lenient on letting you have control, but maybe she was trusting you more. Or maybe she just really needed to let some stress out.

Your tongue slid across her chest, lips finding one of her breasts for you to suck on. You twirled your tongue around her nipple, sucking it into your mouth and rolling it around your teeth. She moaned, gripping you hair and letting you grind on her thigh. It was a perfect mixture of giving and receiving, all of her grains sending shockwaves to your core and you reveled in the taste of her.

You wanted to taste more.

As you slid onto the floor on your knees, you dragged you hands down her thighs and then up to undo her belt. She was breathing heavily as you kissed down her stomach, enjoying the sensation of her muscle against your lips. You pulled her pants down with her underwear, wrestling them over her boots and letting them be lost somewhere in the room.

Adrenaline led you to avidly kiss down her thighs, licking over every inch on the insides as you got closer and closer to her core. You could tell her was ready for you, her hand gripped the back of your head, waiting to hold your mouth against her. You moaned as she tugged at your hair lightly, trying to get you to start.

You left a long kiss on her inner thigh, just an inch from her pussy befor turning to begin. Only, you stopped to look up at her flushed face as smile.

“You’re so gorgeous, Sev.”

The compliment was not taken happily. “I swear to god—you and that fucking mouth of yours,” She breathed, her pupils blown as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you don’t like the teasing when it’s the other way around?”

“Just eat,” she huffed, pushing your face into her core.

It was hot and dripping, so ready for you. You lifted one thigh into your shoulder and spread her folds with your fingers. Her hairs were well kept and trimmed, brushing your nose as you dragged your tongue through her, tasting her.

She moaned, pushing your face further into her as you found her clit, flattening your tongue and coaxing over the bud. As you worked her up, you slid your fingers down and circled her entrance slowly, teasing it lightly.

Another heavy groan fell from her as she tightened her legs around your head. You could hardly hear her due to the clamp her thighs had over your ears.

Everything was so intense, the scent of her, the taste, the pressure of her legs, and the ughh grip she had on your hair. All you could do was kiss and lick her clit, enjoying the moment. It was so overwhelming you completely forgot any else that had happened that night.

You flicked her bud with the tip of your tongue, sucking on it as you slid two fingers into her.

It made her tense up and her head fell back over the back of the couch. She was desperate, holding your face so close and gently rocking her hips against your tongue as you fucked your fingers into her.

“Fuck, baby, don’t stop,” she demanded. You could sense her stress waning as she breathed deep and relaxed into you. You circled your fingers against her walls every time you pushed them in, sucking and licking her clit as you did so.

With your other hand, you pulled down the zipper of your suit and reached under the leather to find yourself. All of her heaving and moaning was too much for you to handle. The taste of her alone made you drip. You slid your fingers between your lips, finding your eager, swollen bud and stroking it.

You moaned against her, the vibrations making her gasp and you quickened your pace on both her and you. She was desperate, fucking heralded on your face bc had while you moaned against her clit and sucked. Rapid, intelligible words fell from her lips as she reached her high, curses and praised to you crescendoing into muttering whines as she came.

The pressure of her legs and your fingers rubbing over your clit was enough to get yourself there too. You cried out into her folds, the stimulation making her jerk as she came down from her high with you.

The both of you were breathing heavily as you crawled back up to her lap. She held you, sliding her hands past the unzipped front of your catsuit so she could feel your hot skin.

Your lips met in a messy clash or desperation. She dragged her teeth over your bottom lip as she made her grind your pussy against hers, the overstimulation making you both shudder.

Just as easily as you’d fallen into her kiss, she was pulling away and moving you off her lap. She set you down on the couch as she stood up, grabbing her clothes off the floor and couch to put them back on.

You sat up, anger and panick setting in. Did you do something wrong? “What—where are you going?”

She began to button her vest up, a grin sliding over her lips. “I’m taking you home.”

#fanfic #arcane #arcane league of legends #fanfiction #smut #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika fanfic #sevika smut #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #lesbian

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 20

Part Nineteen Part One Link to ao3

A huge thank you to so many people but it's especially @thefreakandthehair for betaing, being the best, and generally encouraging all of my nuttiness. Also a big shout out to Bowie ( don't remember your Tumblr my lovely!!) for doublechecking some sensititvity reading for me. Y'all rock!!!

Jeff had the decency to wait until Frank was safely in his house before he called Eddie out on his shit. 

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jeff sighed the second the door closed behind Frank, leaving only the snow, Eddie’s headlights, and two best friends about to have an incredibly awkward conversation. 

“Driving you dicks home?” Eddie tried, hoping that he could fool Jeff into not having the uncomfortable conversation that was already beginning. He kicked the van into reverse, throwing a hand casually over Jeff’s seat as he turned and began to maneuver his way back to the road. 

“Eddie.”

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything really. Just his name, nothing more, nothing less, but it was Jeff’s tone. 

That voice, the voice he always used when he was trying to cut through Gareth and Eddie’s bullshit. Corroded Coffin had lasted all these years because of balance. Frank was their rock, steady and sure; Eddie and Gareth were the stream, bouncing and playing and whirling around in a daze; but Jeff was the earth around them. Jeff was everything, and Eddie might be their leader, but Jeff was the one that held everything together. 

And he was the only one who could get Eddie to drop the act with just one word. 

“Honestly, dude? I have no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Eddie sighed, slightly curling in on himself as he focused on the road. The snow was only mildly awful at the moment, but winter in Indiana could turn on a dime and Eddie wasn’t looking to run his van off the road just because Jeff was grilling him about his stupid little completely non-existent crush. 

“Well, what do you want from him?” Jeff asked, dragging the first word slowly out as he thought about what he wanted to say. Sometimes the other members of Hellfire would do things like that— talk slow or choose words carefully, just to try and avoid Eddie’s sparky temper. 

Unfortunately for him, Eddie was already worked up about this particular topic. 

“Great question!” Eddie snapped, going to throw his hands up before choosing to be wise and hold the wheel steady. A small squall was beginning to form around them, and his visibility was starting to cut to next to none.

“Okay, okay,” Jeff said, placating to Eddie’s need to be a bit of an asshat, “So what happened between you and Steve that’s got Gareth so pressed?”

If it was any other person in the car with him, Eddie might have been able to fake it. Even Frank might have fallen for a lie about Gareth’s hatred of jocks and conformity and how Steve was just a representation of that. 

But it was Jeff. Jeff, who was their Earth, who knew that Gareth’s grudge wouldn’t have lasted this long if it wasn’t motivated by protectiveness. That the only reason Gareth wouldn’t have started to warm up even a little bit was his need to make sure his people were safe. 

Few things in life were assured, but death, taxes, and Gareth Winston’s need to protect his own were all a given.  

“Steve probably doesn’t even remember, so it doesn’t matter,” Eddie muttered, evading the question just as he narrowly evaded a pothole that seemed to appear out of thin air on the road in front of them. The storm was picking back up again, and this was not the conversation to be having right at this moment.  

“Well, do you want him to fuck you?” Jeff asked bluntly, cutting through the fat and straight to the juicy meat of the problem. 

“Jeff!” Eddie blurted out, a nervous burst of laughter escaping along with his name. He took the risk of looking away from the road for a few seconds to give the other boy a wild-eyed look, but Jeff seemed unphased, cool as a cucumber as a lion’s smile began to curl on his face. 

“Do you want to fuck him?” 

Unbidden, a dozen images flashed through Eddie’s head. Steve in his bed. Steve shirtless. Steve underneath him with his hair splayed out on the pillows, wrists trapped in gleaming silver cuffs as he begged so pretty for—

No. 

No no no no no no NO. 

“Dude!” Eddie groaned, turning away from the road again to shout at Jeff. 

And then it happened. 

Jeff’s shit-eating grin disappeared, his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as he shouted a wordless warning cry and Eddie had less than a second to turn back to the road, slamming his foot on the brake and throwing his arm out to protect Jeff from the inevitable crash. 

There was something on the road in front of them. The snow made it impossible to see beyond the shape, but, whatever it was, it was massive. Huge, and hulking, with a dark shadow that sent a chill down Eddie’s spine, and he was sure his van wouldn’t survive the impact. 

But no impact came. 

His tires skidded, the van turned half a quarter, but no collision, no smashing glass, no pain. Just twin panting from him and Jeff, and an empty road all around them. 

“What was that?” Jeff whispered when he was able to form words again. 

“A deer, I guess,” Eddie murmured back, not really feeling all that sure of his answer. He had never seen a deer like that, but he also hadn’t really seen anything. His wild imagination wanted to run with it, but there was no point. Whatever it was, it was gone, and that’s what mattered. 

He leaned back against his seat, his heart still racing as he patted Jeff’s chest twice, slightly assured when he could feel Jeff’s heart pounding through his shirt as well.

“Sorry.” 

“Shouldn’t’ve distracted you,” Jeff mumbled, lacing his fingers together to hide how badly they were shaking. 

“Hey, not your fault,” Eddie said, knowing how Jeff’s anxiety tended to latch to any blame it could when it got tripped like this. Eddie tested the van, carefully pulling back onto the right side of the road. They stayed quiet as Eddie turned them towards Jeff’s house, driving at a turtle’s pace with both hands on the wheel. 

“I want to help him,” Eddie offered into the silence, eyes firm on the road. “If I can.”

When Jeff didn’t immediately respond, Eddie thought that was the end of the conversation, but as they approached Jeff’s neighborhood, the boy next to him spoke up again. 

“Steve needs the help. Something’s really wrong with him, Eds.”

“You’re turning over to Gareth’s side?” Eddie joked, the words thin and frail and instantly disappearing the second he put them in the air. 

“No,” Jeff replied, no veil of humor over his words. “There’s something wrong with him like there’s something wrong with me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Eddie said on instinct, hating the bitter scoff Jeff gave. He pulled up to a stop sign and put the van all the way in park, turning in his seat and giving Jeff his full attention 

“Look at me.” Eddie ordered, waiting until Jeff’s dark eyes met his own in the dim light of the streetlamp before speaking again. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Jeff. Nothing.” He said, making sure that there was zero wiggle room in his voice. 

Because there wasn’t, and Eddie hated that his best friend thought there was. There was something wrong with Hawkins, with the country they lived in, with the world. There was something wrong with a species that somehow made color a defining factor in a person’s worth, but there was not, and never would be, anything wrong with who Jeff was.

“Fine, then something wrong happened to both of us,” Jeff amended, a ghost of a smile crossing his face at Eddie’s insistence. “Either way, just be careful with him,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving Steve the shovel talk? Not the other way around?” Eddie joked, putting the van back in gear and turning onto Jeff’s street. 

“When you get him, I’ll give him the talk,” Jeff promised, crossing his heart as he did. 

When, not if. Just one word instead of the other, but a flush of warmth flooded Eddie from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Jeff was right to use the word ‘when’, because Eddie’s chances were not even ‘if’, but he loved the positivity. 

“Have a good night, man,” Jeff said as they pulled into his driveway, holding out a hand for a quick shake as he unbuckled his seatbelt.  

“Hey,” Eddie called, grabbing the edge of Jeff’s coat as he stepped out of the van. “Us freaks stick together. Always.”

It was a little reminder, just a hint of a conversation they had over a year ago, but judging by the way Jeff’s eyes softened and his shoulders lowered, he knew exactly what Eddie was reminding him of. 

“Always,” Jeff echoed, squeezing Eddie’s wrist once before he hurried towards his darkened house and slipped inside. Eddie waited till the porch light turned off before sighing heavily, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment before reversing again. 

Back to the lion’s den. 

The house was dark as Eddie quietly let himself back in, but the glow of the pool and the embers of the fire crackling in the fireplace gave just enough light to see the aftermath of the party. It wasn’t half as bad as some of the messes Eddie had seen from Steve’s previous parties, but it was still pretty messy. There would be a lot of cleanup coming tomorrow, and Eddie’s heart ached when he thought about Steve spending Christmas Eve alone cleaning up his house. 

Damn this boy. Eddie didn’t even celebrate Christmas, and here he was worrying over Steve about being alone for it. 

Maybe Wayne wouldn’t mind having one more person over for dinner. Usually it was just the two of them, but Wayne loved his strays almost as much as Eddie did, and Steve was an easy guy to care about. 

Eddie would ask him tomorrow morning. Call before anyone woke up and see what Wayne said. Then he would offer to help clean and ask Steve when it was just the two of them. After all, no one should be alone on the holidays. 

Eddie was so lost in his thoughts, that he almost missed the sound of an angel singing somewhere up above. 

Are you lonesome tonight?

Do you miss me tonight?

Are you sorry we drifted apart?

But no, there was no missing that voice. Eddie was a connoisseur of music, but he already knew that almost any other song was ruined for him. He was the cat caught by the canary instead of the other way around, lost in the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years. It was deeper now, fuller, grown almost into a man from the boy he had been the last time Eddie heard him sing.  

Does your memory stray to a bright summer day

When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?

He climbed the stairs slowly, drawn like a moth to a flame, knowing it would burn, but needing to be close anyway. 

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Outside the room now, Eddie could see it all while still staying hidden. Steve was sitting on the floor, his head leaned back against the bed that was filled to the bursting with his sleeping children. 

His entire self was on display for Eddie, not just his body, but his soul and his mind, a gift being given without knowing, and Eddie was too selfish not to take it. 

Is your heart filled with pain?

Shall I come back again?

This was the boy Gareth couldn’t see, but the one Eddie couldn’t stop looking for. A boy who knew their first memory together. Without a doubt. Who had never forgotten, no matter how much Eddie tried to convince himself he had. 

There was no other reason to pick this song. 

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

And without permission Eddie was thrust into a memory.

Despite it only being his sophomore year, Eddie was more than used to getting detention. In the two years since he had moved to Hawkins, Eddie had earned his ‘problem child’ status at least twice over. This particular afternoon, he was stuck sitting at a graffitied desk in the detention room because he dared to argue when his teacher told him that it was valid to not believe in evolution when it went against your religious beliefs. 

Evolution. The base of all humanity. 

She was wrong, but she was the one with all the power, so Eddie was the one in trouble. 

Still it could’ve been worse. Wayne had given him the van for his fifteenth birthday, so he wasn’t stuck waiting on the steps for a ride home after missing the bus. It wasn’t technically legal, but Hopper tended to look the other way as long as Eddie continued to give him discounts on ‘merchandise’. 

All Eddie had to do was wait out the clock. Mr. Whiter had already fallen asleep at the desk up front and at six, Eddie would be free. Maybe he could even stop at Benny’s. The man always gave him extra fries to bring home to Wayne, and Eddie was making good money now that Rick was in the slammer. He was the last dealer left in town, so things were looking up. 

Well things would be looking up, except the kid next to him refused to stop sniffling. 

Eddie muffled an irritated sigh, sliding his eyes over to take stock of the boy sitting across the way. Clearly a freshman, and obviously his first time in detention. He was looking around the room with wide-eyed horror, slightly terrified of every single thing he saw, and obviously trying to brush tears away from his bruised cheek and busted lip. 

Normally, Eddie would just tell him to shut up. That detention was barely anything to have to deal with in the grand scheme of things, but he had seen the fight that landed the kid in detention, and it had been bad enough to warrant some misery. 

One second he and another boy (obviously a friend given how upset the kid was) were laughing by his locker, and the next second they were exchanging blows. It had been bad, taking three teachers to separate them, and somehow this kid had gotten in trouble for the whole thing!

But Eddie had seen the start, and it was the other twerp that had thrown the first punch. Yet somehow, he was already on the bus home and this schmuck was stuck in detention with the Freak of Hawkins High

The unjustness gnawed at Eddie’s soul, and the longer the kid sat there doing nothing but brush at his already dry cheeks, the harder it was to ignore him. 

Fuck it. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon. 

Eddie grabbed his notebook, slamming it open to a fresh page and dragging his favorite purple pen across the paper, taking a cursory glance at Mr. Whiter’s snoring form before sliding his chair over to the other boy. 

“Hi!” Eddie said, throwing a big smile in the kids direction and hoping that would grease the wheels a little. Eddie knew how intimidating he could look to the rest of the world, and he liked it that way, but it sometimes made it hard to make friends. 

Sure enough, the kid startled the second Eddie spoke, looking at him the way a deer looks at the hunter right before they hear the death shot. He didn’t seem like the type to just outright tell Eddie to fuck off, but he did look massively uncomfortable with Eddie invading his space.  

Oh well, what was the worst that could happen?

“Wanna kill some time?” Eddie offered, holding up his notebook before placing it down on the desk in front of them. A tic tac toe board sat in the middle of the page, and a scorecard was up in the top corner with the word ‘Eddie' on one side and the words ‘Random Kid 'on the other. 

A barely there smile glanced across the kids face as he looked down at the page, and then those big brown eyes were on him. Eddie waited patiently, forcing his body to stay still which was actually a pretty herculean task— not that this kid knew. He had the worm on the hook and the line in the water, and now he was just waiting for the curious fish to bite. 

Whatever the kid was looking for, he must’ve found it because that same soft, shy smile was gifted to Eddie as he leaned down, rooting around in his backpack for his own pen. When he found the one he was looking for, he carefully crossed over Eddie’s purple writing, replacing ‘Random Kid’ with just one word instead. 

“Well, Steve, let’s hope your tic-tac-toe powers are better than your fighting skills,” Eddie joked, pleased when instead of getting mad, Steve’s cheeks darkened in a pretty little blush, and he simply ducked his head with a soft protest and an embarrassed smile. 

They played a few rounds in relative silence, the occasional quiet groan or cheer when one or the other managed to clinch a victory. It was nice, a little boring, but far preferable to what they had been doing before. 

And then Steve’s pen died. 

It was a slow death, long and drawn out with some furious scribbling to try and get one last juice for the squeeze. 

“Here, man, just take mine. I’ve got a spare somewhere,” Eddie offered, not even thinking twice as he gave away his favorite pen, even though he never let anyone borrow that pen. Wayne had gotten it for him on a day trip to Indianapolis for his birthday, just a tiny trinket to commemorate the day, and Eddie loved it to death. 

There was no way Steve could have known that, and yet he was looking at the pen like it was a live snake. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the clearly treasured object in front of him. 

Eddie looked up at the other boy, furrowing his brow. 

“Why not?” Eddie said with a shrug, going back to his notebook with a plain black pen. He was scratching out another tic-tac-toe board to add to the dozens that were already on the page, but paused when he saw Steve wasn’t picking up his own pen. 

“People aren’t just nice,” Steve insisted, giving Eddie an unexpectedly guarded look. “They always want something…so what do you want from me?” 

“I want to make this afternoon a little less unbearable, I want to fight the system, and I want to make you feel better.” Eddie offered, quirking his head to the side and picking up his favorite purple pen to offer once more to the other boy, “Isn’t that enough?” 

They stared at each other for a long second, until Steve’s face broke into an incredulous smile and he ducked his head down. 

“You’re really weird,” he said with a soft laugh, taking the pen. It was a lovely sound, like birds singing in the morning, or the first soft strum of a guitar as practice began. 

Eddie needed to hear it again.

From there they were off, talking about everything and anything. Eddie shared about all of the  ridiculous reasons he had gotten detention over the years, and Steve explained that the other punk from the fight was Tommy, apparently his best friend for his entire life. They had lived next to each other since Steve had moved to Hawkins as a kid, and had done every single thing together. The reason Tommy had started the fight was Steve had told him he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to basketball try-outs tomorrow. 

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just want to try some other stuff too you know?” Steve said, looking up from their game to catch Eddie’s eye, “We’re in high school now, so it’s the time to try something new, isn’t it?” 

“Sure it is!” Eddie agreed eagerly, holding himself back from going on a diatribe about the laundry basket devils that ran the school and instead talking about all of the clubs he was in. He couldn’t really see Steve enjoying Marching Band or Creative Writing, but Drama might be a good fit, or maybe Art. 

“You could even join the new club I’m trying to start if you wanted,” Eddie offered, trying to stay casual but practically vibrating at the thought of having someone else to show Higgins that Hellfire was worthy of a place at the table. 

“A new club?” Steve asked. 

“Yea, it’s gonna be great,” Eddie started, taking a deep breath to start his long rant about the joys of dungeons and dragons, “So it’s called—”

“Alright boys,” a nasally voice droned from the front of the room. “Time to pack it up.”

Both boys jumped at Mr. Whiter’s interruption, and Eddie rolled his eyes, frustrated at being stopped right as he had started to get to the good stuff. The geometry teacher either didn’t notice or didn’t care, too eager to get back to his own home to do whatever geometry teachers did when they weren’t at school. 

If Eddie had to guess, it was probably fucking their wives with compasses while reciting geometric formulas as foreplay. That seemed right. 

“And don’t let me catch you in here again, Mr. Harrington. I would hope your parents had taught you better,” Mr. Whiter said as they trudged past him. His blank potato looking face was only showing the barest hints of disappointment, but that was still enough to make Steve cringe away.

“Yes sir,” he whispered, all joy from the last hour they had spent together vanishing in an instant.

“What? No warning for me Mr. Whiter?” Eddie inquired, batting his eyes and trying to take the attention away from Steve. 

“I don’t particularly like wasting my breath on hopeless cases, Mr. Munson,” Whiter droned, half raising one brow, as if shocked that Eddie would even bother to ask for an admonishment. “Try to get your homework done tonight, will you? I’d hate to add another zero to my gradebook,”

Hot shame rushed down Eddie’s spine, replaced quickly by a lightning fury that made his lips loose and his logic take a quick hike. 

“Well, I don’t particularly like making promises I can’t keep, sorry Tighty-Whiteys!” Eddie declared, grabbing Steve’s hand and dragging him away before they could get in any trouble because of Eddie’s big fat mouth. 

“Jesus H Christ, that guys a dick!” Eddie shouted, both boys laughing breathlessly as they burst through the doors of the school. 

“You gonna do the homework?” Steve said through his giggles. 

“Now? Hell no!” Eddie swore, cackling as he did and jumping up onto the low wall next to the school. “Gotta fight the system however you can, Stevie. Trust me. Listen to your elders.”

“Whatever you say,”  Steve said, continuing to laugh at Eddie’s antics. He idly looked around the parking lot, his mood starting to darken as he looked again, searching the parking lot again, but Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what for. 

Then Steve sighed, plopping down on the curb and wrapping his arms around his knees resting his chin on top of them and rapidly blinking. 

“What’re you doin’?” Eddie asked with concern, shocked at Steve’s sudden turn and hopping down from his spot on the wall. 

“My parents aren’t here,” Steve muttered glumly, staring out at the empty lot instead of looking at Eddie as he sat on the curb next to Steve. “The school called after the fight, and they knew when I was getting out, but my dad’s probably going to make me wait ‘till after dinner or something.”

It wasn’t exactly the most damning thing to say in the world, Eddie could think of a dozen things that his dad had done to him that were worse, but the thought of making his own son wait for hours in the cold and dark still made something in his stomach squirm. He could never imagine Wayne doing anything like that to him.

Steve curled up even tighter around himself, completely unaware of Eddie’s internal struggle. 

“God, I bet they’re so pissed.” Steve whispered into his knees. “And now my dad’s going to have to come get me, and he’s going to be even madder about that—”

“Why don’t I give you a ride home?” Eddie offered in an instant, shocking even himself with the boldness of the offer. He had just met the kid only an hour ago, but Steve’s genuine nature touched something in him, and there was a magnetic pull to want to help him that Eddie couldn’t quite explain just yet. “Then at least they won’t be mad at you about needing a ride, right?”

It would make more sense for Steve to say no, to try and play it off, but instead he was giving Eddie a watery smile and a look of gratitude as he nodded, starting to stand. 

Eddie had never really worried about what the van looked like, but as they walked towards where it was, Eddie jogged ahead, trying to throw the multitudes of wrappers and junk into the back where Steve wouldn’t see. Luckily for him, the younger boy seemed enraptured by the simple fact that Eddie had a car at all. 

“I want something cool like a Beemer or a truck, but my mom doesn’t want me to get a car ‘till I’m 18,” Steve said idly, pausing and furrowing his brow as he did, “She’s really weird about me driving for some reason.” 

Hopefully, she wouldn’t feel too weird about a random guy giving her kid a ride home in a kidnapper van. 

“Pick a tape for us to listen to,” Eddie offered as he climbed into the driver's seat, fighting with his seatbelt as Steve perused his choices. Unfortunately, Steve quickly skipped over all of the metal that Eddie had at the front of the pack, but soon familiar notes began to sing, and Eddie’s shoulders relaxed as he recognized the song. 

“Ahhhh, The King. A good choice,” Eddie commented as Elvis’s voice began to croon out into the air between them. 

“Who could hate this song?” Steve asked rhetorically, a wry grin on his face as the tune began to take shape.

“I always loved that nickname,” Steve said off handedly, staring out the window at the rows of corn, “King.” 

“You should steal it then,” Eddie said automatically. Sure, Steve was a kid right now, but Eddie could see it in his eyes. A few years, a couple more inches, and that kid would have the world eating out of his palm. That sweet nature, that funny little humor, ‘King’ wasn’t too hard to imagine when it came to Steve. 

“Maybe,” Steve replied, drawing out the word with a tone that showed that he wasn’t sure about that. He gave Eddie a few more directions, and they got closer and closer to their time being done together. A strange desperation started to make Eddie’s heart race, like he could feel the two of them pulling back into their roles, backing away from whatever they had this afternoon. 

“It’s got a good ring to it. King Steve,” Eddie pushed, pausing and making the turn into Loch Nora before he put his heart on the line. 

“Why don’t you blow off basketball try-outs tomorrow? Come to my club I’m starting instead. You can meet my friends.”

It was a chance, a choice. Steve could make the right one, and be one of them, or he could get sucked into Hawkins and all of it’s hell hole small town bullshit. Eddie was giving him an out. 

“That sounds really fun,” Steve said in a small voice, a secret smile shared between them before it was ruined by a shout from the house in front of them. 

“Steven!”

It was a woman’s voice, and Steve’s entire body stiffened. No more smiles, no more relaxing, Steve was a rod of pure steel, with a blank unaffected face. A man and a woman, Steve’s mother and father presumably, were standing on the porch together, twin faces of disappointed gravity that stole all of the air out of the van. 

“Well, wish me luck,” Steve laughed without humor, his fingers worrying over the straps of his backpack as he started to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asked, already knowing in his stomach that he wouldn’t. 

“Tomorrow,” Steve said, the word so thin and frail now. 

And he was gone. Out of the car, and most definitely out of Eddie’s life. But if he was losing this like he seemed to lose everything, Eddie wanted to at least say a proper goodbye. 

“See you later Alligator!” Eddie shouted through the window. Steve turned back, haloed by the setting sun, looking far too angelic for a gangly fourteen year old. 

“In a while Crocodile,” Steve called back with a slight laugh, just a shadow of his former self, turning and rushing to his waiting parents who gave Eddie one last glare before slamming the door shut. 

Eddie waited a second, staring at the locked door and listening to the song on the radio, wishing that the burning in his eyes would just disappear the way Steve had. 

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and care?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain

Shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Eddie opened his eyes again, back in the present, to find Steve already watching him. 

In another world, things worked out differently, but not in this one.��

In reality, Steve didn’t come to Hellfire the next day. Tommy was at his locker bright and early, there to laugh the whole thing off and drag Steve to try-outs come hell or high water. Eddie had seen the whole thing, and he had known then and there Steve wasn’t one of them. Steve’s cheek was still bruised, but there were finger shapes on his wrist that definitely hadn’t been there the day before during detention. He had glanced at Eddie, but quickly glanced away, agreeing loudly that try-outs were going to be awesome. 

When Steve had caught his eye that day, when he had tried to say he was sorry without words, Eddie hadn’t been in a place to listen. He had a thousand chips of his own weighing on his shoulders, and an inability to see anything but his own opinion as right. 

There was no way to be two things at once, not back then. 

But that bruised beat up kid was in front of him again, big hazel eyes begging for forgiveness again. And this time, Eddie finally felt ready to give it to him. 

“Hi Alligator,” Eddie whispered, the words barely able to get out past the lump in his throat. A small smile graced Steve’s lips as his eyes began to shine in the dark. 

“It’s been a while, Crocodile,” Steve whispered back. 

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#Steve joins hellfire au #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie au #steddie ficlet #st #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things au #post stancy breakup #post s2 #Steve and eddie #st au #stranger things 2 au #steve harrington #Writing(with a capital W) #Jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #Steve has ptsd #Flash back #Flashhhhh backkkkkkk #hehehe

[slut4thebroken]

Name Your Price

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x escort!reader

Summary | He has too much money for his own good lol.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, sex work, face fucking, deep throating, doggy, light spanking lol, humiliation, lots a degradation, a sprinkle of praise, our man is needy and whiny.

Words | 3.4 k

Notes | Imagine that gif is him looking at you on your knees heheh

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Your usual clientele are definitely in a higher tax bracket than most people, but you’ve never been with someone as rich as Robert Fischer. The second he had you literally sign an NDA you looked him up, seeing that he was next in line to take over his father’s business. That’s when it all started to make sense. Usually men pay to take you out, show you off, and then more often than not, fuck you. But Robert made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested in those services you offer. He just wanted to fuck you, and he wanted to do it discreetly. 

He bought a hotel room for the night and paid for your ride here, as well as the clothes he requested you wear. What would’ve normally pissed you off if he were paying the usual price would’ve been how nit picky he was. He told you exactly how to do your hair and make up, where to shave and where not to shave, even down to you fucking perfume— it just had to be something sweet like vanilla. You were glad that all of the details were discussed over the phone because you would’ve rolled your eyes and laughed in his face at all of his demands.

He also told you exactly how to act— submissive, obedient, subservient. You’re not normally that kind of submissive, but, again, you agreed simply because of the money. 

Staring at the clock on the nightstand, your foot bounced incessantly as you waited for him. You’ve never been this nervous for a client. He’s paying you so much money… what if you fuck something up? It was almost ironic that your overthinking was putting you into the headspace he requested. 

At 8:59, you moved down to the floor and waited on your knees with your head down, like he requested. Your heart pounded in your chest from the anticipation and it took everything you had to keep your head down when you heard the door open. 

Even though you’re used to fucking ugly, old men, you prayed Robert would be an exception, but you knew that being hot on top of how much he was paying you would be too good to be true. He sounded decently young on the phone, but you still had no indication on whether or not he’s actually attractive. You heard him walking somewhere in the room, then glass clinking, then a drink being poured. 

“Less than a minute in and you’ve already disobeyed me.” He said calmly, making your heart drop. How?? You haven’t even done anything yet! He answered your silent question for you. “Hands behind your back.” You immediately complied, feeling a little dumb for forgetting something so simple. “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight since I’m assuming you’d prefer to leave here with the agreed upon amount?” You weren’t sure if his question was rhetorical or not. He let out a soft sigh and you heard his footsteps before he landed in front of you. 

“Answer me.” 

“Yes, sir. I do prefer that..” When you saw his hand moving forward you almost moaned at the sight of just his fingers. But your chance to admire them went far too quickly when he placed a single digit under your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat when you saw his face. You figured there was a small chance he might be attractive, but you didn’t actually think he’d be down right gorgeous. You bit your lip as your gaze trailed all over his face, taking in every inch. 

“Did you do everything I instructed?” He released your chin and took a sip of his drink, still staring down at you. 

“Yes, sir.” It felt like you were still in shock, just from seeing his face. 

“Good. The dress looks nice.” You couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. 

“Thank you.” 

“Stand up.” You did as he said, then waited for the next instruction. “Give me a spin. I want to see if it was money well spent.” You blushed, but turned around for him. “Slower.” He suddenly said, making you freeze, then continue at a slower pace. He hummed in appreciation and you could practically feel his eyes running over every inch of you. When you were facing him again, you waited, watching as he downed the rest of his drink then walked over to the table to set it down. You didn’t move, not sure if you were allowed to or not, and he sat down in the arm chair, then cleared his throat. 

“Show me the underwear.” You slowly lifted the dress until it was resting around your waist, exposing the lacy panties. “Come here.” You walked over and stood in front of him, trying to keep your breathing steady when he gently placed his hands on your thighs and snaked them up to your hips. He used his grip to turn you around, then moved one hand to grope your ass. You let out a surprised moan at the sudden spank and he hummed in approval again. 

“Very good.” You had to swallow down a whine when his hands abruptly left your body. “Face me and get on your knees.” His eyes moved up and down your body, taking you in again as you did what he said. “Remove my shoes.” You reached toward his feet, but he stopped you. “Carefully. Just one of those is worth double what I’m paying you.” You nodded and gently untied the laces of his dress shoes before slipping them off his feet and placing them neatly on the ground beside the chair. 

“Should I fuck your mouth? Or should I just get right to fucking your cunt.” You were mostly sure he was talking to himself and not actually asking you. He has you for two hours, so he has time for both. He seemed to finally come to a decision and he leaned back in the chair, staring down at you. “Be a good girl and show me how that lipstick looks on my cock.” He suddenly said, making arousal pool in your stomach. 

“Yes, sir.” You squeezed your thighs together to relieve a little bit of the ache as you worked on opening his pants. Once his belt was unbuckled and his pants were unzipped, you pulled them and his underwear down just enough to free his length since he didn’t lift up to let you take them fully off. You stroked him slowly, marveling at how big he felt in your hand, even just half hard. 

“Did I tell you to give me a hand job?” He asked impatiently. 

“N-no, sorry…” You swallowed thickly and leaned closer to start mouthing at the tip. Your hand remained unmoving on the base just to keep it steady. He let out a pleased sigh as you suckled on the head of his cock, being sure to lick up any precum. 

“Go on, whore. Let’s see if you’re worth what I’m paying.” You blushed as the crude name and squeezed your thighs together even tighter. Not wanting to make him get even more impatient, you started bobbing up and down his cock, keeping your tongue flat against the underside as you hallowed your cheeks. You moved your hand down to cup his balls as you took him a little deeper. When he let out a heavy breath and gently grabbed your hair, you looked up at him. You continued the same pace, sometimes flicking your tongue over the tip when you went up. After a while though, he huffed and tightened his grip on your hair.  

“Are you one of those whores who can’t deepthroat? Because I don’t think I should be paying full price for a shitty blowjob.” You immediately took the hint and went down until he reached the back of your mouth. After taking a deep breath, you pushed the rest of the way, breaching your throat barrier. You focused mostly on stimulating his balls as you stayed buried on his cock for as long as you could take it. Only a few seconds later, you were pulling off, gasping in breaths and trying to calm down to do it all again. You took him in your mouth again, not stopping until he was buried in your throat. 

“You can do better than that, whore.” He started moving you up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat with each bob of your head. It wasn’t long before you were choking and sputtering as tears filled your eyes. When he pulled you off, you coughed, but didn’t have a chance to collect yourself before he was pushing your face against his balls. You whimpered at the degrading act, trying to ignore the feeling of his spit soaked cock resting on your face. 

When he tightened his grip on your hair and pushed you into him harder, you started mouthing at his balls. You licked and sucked, pushing down the embarrassment to focus on making him feel good. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this, but it is the first time you weren’t completely disgusted by it. Robert kept himself well groomed and you found yourself getting even needier despite how dirty and used you felt. 

Once he’d had enough, he pulled you back and forced you down on his cock again, all but impaling your throat with how fast and hard he did it. You gagged instantly, but he ignored it and started using your mouth the same way he would a fleshlight. On a particularly harsh thrust, you let out a strangled whimper and the tears in your eyes began to fall. 

“Stop fucking whining.” He spat. It almost seemed like he started going faster simply because of how much you were struggling to take it. Your hands grabbed his thighs, digging your fingers into the covered skin, and he used his free hand to slap your cheek. “Hands behind your back.” He scolded and you hesitated, but eventually obeyed. The next time he forced you all the way down, he held you there, keeping a firm grip on your hair to prevent you from moving. 

“Stick your tongue out.” You did your best to do what he said. “Good girl. Lick my balls.” You let out a strangled sob at the utterly vulgar and degrading order. Regardless, you stuck your tongue out farther and did your best to lick them. “Look at me.” Your teary eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze and he let out a breathy groan at the sight. “No waterproof mascara, just like I said.” He said almost proudly as he used his free hand to cup your cheek and brush his thumb over what you assumed were mascara tracks. 

When you started gagging and sputtering and trying to pull off, he let go of your hair, letting you move back. You coughed lightly and cleared your throat, doing your best to collect yourself somewhat quickly. 

“On the bed. Face down, ass up.”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was already hoarse. You stood up on shaky legs, feeling unstable in your too high heels, and walked over to the bed to kneel on it. He remained sitting on the chair, watching you closely. When you leaned down to rest your head and chest on the bed, a light blush tinted your cheeks. 

“Arch your back.” You could faintly hear wet noises and the knowledge that he was jerking off just to the sight of you almost had you moaning and squirming. You arched your back, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “More. Spread your legs apart.” You shuffled your knees out and bent your back even more, starting to feel the strain and discomfort. When he didn’t respond, you assumed he was happy with the position. 

“Do you always get this wet when you're working?” His tone was far too innocent for the vulgar question he asked. Your blush darkened even more once you realized that your arousal was already soaking the fabric of your underwear. 

“No, sir..”

“Speak up.” He snapped. 

“No, sir.” You said again, a little louder this time. 

“Is it the money that turns you on?” His voice was closer now, like he was standing at the foot of the bed. 

“No.” Even though the money definitely helped, it was primarily because of him. 

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you tell me what it is that’s getting you all worked up then.” With the way that he spoke, you could tell he already knew and just wanted to tease you about it. 

“You, sir.” 

“Me? What about me?” You hated the way that he was playing dumb like this, but you mostly hated the fact that it turned you on. 

“Y-your cock… And the things you do and say to me.” This was almost more humiliating than sucking on his balls with his cock laying heavy on your face. You felt the bed dip as he presumably kneeled behind you. 

“You want my cock?” 

“Please, sir.” You tried not to whine when you spoke. 

“I’m not entirely convinced you really want it.” You couldn't swallow down the whine this time. 

“Please, sir. I want your cock.” You begged, unconsciously pushing your hips back. “Please fuck me,” You jumped when you felt his hands on your ass, then moaned loudly when he ripped a hole in the crotch of your underwear. “Please— I need you to fuck me, sir.” You whined. 

“That’s better.” You gasped when the head of his cock dragged through your folds, spreading your arousal. He finally pushed in and you fisted the sheets as your lips parted in a silent moan. He’s just so fucking big. It’s not that you can’t take it, it’s just that he’s filling every part of you perfectly, satisfying every craving you have. 

“Fuck— Oh fuck,” You moaned, burying your face in the bed to muffle your sounds. Once his hips were flush with your ass, he didn’t bother giving you a chance to adjust before starting a slow pace. 

“You’re pretty tight for a whore.” He commented casually, making you sob out a moan. You’ve never particularly liked being called a whore, but for some reason when he says it, you just just get infinitely more turned on. “I half expected I’d need to fuck your ass instead.” He said amusedly. 

“Sir,” You gasped out, arching your back more and pushing your hips toward him. “Please.” 

“Please?” 

“Please go faster, or harder— anything.” You begged pathetically. You’ve never genuinely begged a client for something like this.  

“I didn’t know I was paying you to make demands.” You whined, a little too bratty for his liking based on the way he slapped your ass hard enough to leave it stinging for a few seconds. “You’re not some girl I picked up and took home. You’re my whore for the night. Fucking act like it.” You couldn’t help but mewl at his words. 

“I-I’m sorry. You just feel so good, sir.” All of a sudden, his hand was grabbing your hair and pulling your head back until you were looking at the ceiling. You held yourself up with your hands on the bed, but the position was still uncomfortable. 

“Every time you talk back, you lose a hundred.” He warned, making you whine. “That includes whining.” He spanked you again with his free hand and you cried out at the sting. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes! Yes, sir, I understand.” As soon as you got the words out, he shoved your head forward and released your hair. Your face landed against the bed with a startled grunt that cut off into a moan when he sped up. He was still going far too slow, but you bit your lip to keep yourself from whining or begging. 

“Even as a whore you’re fucking useless.” He scoffed. You let out a choked sob and grabbed the sheets harder. He sped up even more, forcing out little grunts and whimpers from you with each thrust. You ached to reach a hand down to your clit, but you knew you couldn’t. Not after his warning about “making demands.”

“Fuck— I’m already close.” You couldn’t help but notice how pretty his voice sounded as he continued becoming more and more breathless from the pleasure. 

“Remember to pull out.” You said, breaking character for a moment. On the phone, when he asked if you had any rules or limits, the only thing you said was that he can’t come inside. You don’t care if he fucks you raw, just so long as he pulls out. With a frustrated growl, he flipped you onto your back, immediately pushing back in to keep fucking you. 

“How much?” He leaned over you, his face level with yours. The feeling of his breath fanning your lips was making it hard to think. 

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“To come inside. How much?” His pace was becoming even more frantic and he was beginning to pant heavily from the exertion. 

“Robert…” 

“Name your price. What do you want? Ten grand?” Your eyes widened at his offer. “Fifteen?” There’s no way he’s being serious right now. When he noticed your disbelief, he paused, then reached in his pants pocket to pull out his wallet and toss it on the bed next to you. When your disbelief turned into confusion, he explained. “A down payment.” His thrusts picked back up again, forcing a moan out of you as he resumed the unrelenting pace. “Well?” You glanced at the wallet, seeing how much cash was inside, then let out a heavy breath. 

“Fuck— fine. Fine.” You could immediately see the shift in his expression, showing how pleased he was with your answer. 

“Good girl. I might just have to hire you again.” He grinned at the thought and you felt your stomach fill with butterflies. “Now why don’t you be a good little whore and beg me to fill you up.” His grin turned into a smirk and he started fucking you even more desperately somehow. 

“Please fill me up. I want your come, sir.” You whined, back arching up into him. Despite your rule, part of you was being truthful. The thought of him fucking his come into your needy, abused hole was enough to make you clamp down on his cock, forcing a choked moan out of him. “Please!”

Without another word, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and rutted into you until he finally fell over the edge. He grunted with each snap of his hips, his panting breaths feeling hot against your neck. You squeezed around his cock again, wanting to make it as pleasurable for him as possible. Based on his low moan, it was working. 

He finally stilled and his sounds quieted into heavy breathing as he put some of his weight on you, letting himself rest without actually crushing you. Even though you were submissive enough right now to mostly only care about his pleasure, part of you was still disappointed that you wouldn’t get a chance to come on his cock. 

When his breathing calmed down, he lifted himself up to sit on his knees and slowly dragged out. He pushed your legs up, so you took the initiative and held them close to your chest for him. At the first sight of his come trickling out of you, he released a contented groan. 

“Fuck… Fifteen it is.” He said through a breath. Your holes fluttered as you pushed out more of his come, making him curse under his breath. “Take off the fucking dress before I rip it off and make you go home nude.” He threatened, making you instantly release your legs and scramble to take it off. He ripped your underwear clean off your body, then flipped you onto your stomach. 

“What are you doing?” You gasped, when he straddled your thighs and lined his cock up with your hole again. 

“I paid for two hours. I’m not stopping until I either run out of time, or run out of come.” You choked on your spit at his words, feeling too flustered to figure out how to respond. Before you could even attempt to just think of something to say, he was pushing back in, ridding your head of all thoughts except for him and his cock. 

When you woke up the next day, you saw that he had transferred the original price, plus fifteen thousand. You blinked rapidly and rubbed your eyes, thinking that you read it wrong in your sleepy state, but the number was clear as day. As was the memo reading: You’ll hear from me again soon. 

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#robert fischer smut #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #inception #cillian murphy

[syneilesis]

[fic] Pampertime

Pampertime

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | Explicit | 6.7k words | ao3 link

Butler Rule No. 1: From the moment you accept the role, be prepared to obey your lady’s every command. The bunny butler outfit makes a grand return. In bed.

Content tags: Established Relationship, PWP, Roleplay, Bunny Butler Xavier, Dom/sub elements, Sub!Xavier, Strip Tease, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Cowgirl Position, Riding, PIV sex, Creampie

A/N: My contribution to the bunny butler Xavier train. Only gave a cursory edit once, so any mistakes still my fault. I'm just glad I'm done, whatever. Divider by @/saradika

One bright and sunny afternoon, Xavier texts you: Emergency can U come up here to help me?

You're in the middle of cleaning your living room, after weeks of neglecting your household responsibilities due to the sudden influx of Wanderers in the neighboring city. The Hunters Association had been scrambling to send out their hunters due to the sudden invasion of Wanderers that resembled bafflingly like corgis—which was both a blessing and a curse, if one were to be asked. Blessing because, well, they were a breed that incited cute aggression and fluffiness, and civilian evacuation had resulted in minimal problems, if one ignores the influx of people into doglike Wanderers. A curse, because—well, they did look like corgis—fluffy like a bread with a cute butt, the kind that you would expect to see in the plushie line sold at Twinkle Toys Store. They're irresistible to drag your hand across their soft coat. A not-inconsiderable number of hunters realized the error of their ways in overlooking the fact that these floof of creatures were still Wanderers, and as a consequence, Linkon hospitals suddenly found themselves busier for a week or two.

Regardless, the corgi Wanderers were easy to take care of, once you saw past their clever ruse. The difficulty lay in the numbers. Like a relentless tsunami flooding the city, they undulate in droves, shaking their butts and bouncing around and generally making an oxymoronically cute menace of themselves.

As one of the hunters dispatched to the area, you valiantly resisted the siren cute-call and eliminated as many as you could. It took you and your team more than a week, and it would have been shorter than that, had Xavier been in the fray. But he had been sent in another region the week before, and was unable to join you in your fluff-filled resistance.

But now it seems that he's back and is in need of your assistance. Flashback to that time when his oven exploded due to his attempt at baking tarts, and you drop everything you're doing and fly outside, towards the elevator, fueled by fear and sheer panic.

When you burst into his apartment, using the spare key he left you, you cry out, “Xavier! Sitrep!”

A cursory survey of the area indicate neither fire nor flood, and his apartment seems undamaged. Fear subsiding, you finally take stock of the situation.

Perhaps it's not a kitchen emergency after all? There’s no smell of something burning, thank heavens for that. You do not want to apologize to his neighbors in his place again.

You call once more, “Xavier?”

“In here.”

His voice is coming from the bedroom, and that makes you waver. Why is he still in his bedroom? Maybe he's stuck in bed? Did he sleep for three days and wake up in an unusual position and in need of assistance to set back his limbs again? Weirder and weirder thoughts spiral in your head, and your lack of response prompts him to speak once more.

“You can go in, if that's what stops you.”

“Why can't you just go out?”

“I ... can't.”

The hesitation captures your attention. Xavier is probably entangled in the bed. You may as well help him.

“All right, I'm coming in then.”

When you open the door, you're expecting some sort of layers and layers of blankets, a sea of them, not just on the bed but also on the floor and other furniture. Xavier might be underneath in any of those blankets, and it's your duty to locate him and fish him out. You're ready to swim against these blankets, fight your way into it. Do your utmost duty as a combat partner.

Except.

Except it's not a sea of blankets that welcome you once you enter the room. It's—different.

So different.

So utterly different that you drop your phone. It clatters muffled against the carpeted floor, where it slightly nudges a gift-wrapped box. And that gift-wrapped box sits next to another gift-wrapped box, and another. And another. Until you lift your widening gaze to see that Xavier's bedroom is littered with a lot of them. And Xavier—

He's on the bed, all right. But he's—

He grins lightly, leaning back from his sprawled position. The pillows behind him sink under his weight.

“Kjalfjdsj?” you say, eloquently.

“I'm glad you came ...” A pregnant pause, before he drops the bomb. “My lady.”

Your brain short-circuits.

Xavier is sprawled on the bed, bunny ears on his head, waistcoat and tie, and—you just know, you can feel it in your bones—bunny tail on behind. It's exactly what he wore when you had your couple's photos back then. The fact that he's wearing it and, judging by the sudden change of interior design of his room, that he's replicated the decoration of the studio—actually, you don't know what you can glean from those points, because you're too busy picking up the remains of your brain matter to form a coherent thought.

He drops another bomb: “Why are you just standing there, my lady?” he says, and going by the quirk of his lips he knows the effect he has on you. Compared with the first time it happened, the shy reluctance is no longer present. “This bunny butler is ready to serve, just say the word.”

Your brain melts.

“Wha—I mean—um, guh—” You studiously reacquaint yourself with the concept of words. “I just—what is going on?”

Xavier blinks, and the bunny ears on top of his head twitch as if they are truly connected to his head. Your fingers twitch themselves in response, that urge to touch and feel them again.

“I just thought,” he begins, slowly at first as if testing the waters, “that you need to relax and get pampered after that difficult mission you've just had.”

The words percolate in your mind and you scrabble for an appropriate reply to that. To be fair to the man, Xavier is sweet thinking of your well-being like that. Or maybe he's guilty that he wasn't there to help during that corgipocalypse of a week. Regardless of his intent, you have to ask:

“You thought I need to relax and your solution is to dress up as a bunny butler?”

He has the gall to think about it at length. “Yes, my lady.”

You don't miss the way he spreads his legs a little wider at that.

And really—you're only human, with wants and needs and desires. It just so happens that the common denominator of those three aspects point to the ridiculous man before you, in that ridiculous bunny butler getup that you secretly love and hope to see again. Which—yeah, it's definitely the perfect solution.

Stomping your hesitation and pride, you stride towards the bed, and Xavier, watching your every step, reclines further, giving you space for you to place your knee on the soft mattress, between his legs.

The bedfoam dips, and he shifts to avoid sinking down the indent your knee makes. Your other knee follows, and you move towards him until the heat of his inner thighs touch the outer sides of yours.

At the proximity between the two of you, Xavier tips forward, and in spite of your positions he doesn't need to tilt his head much upward to meet your deliberating gaze. An anticipatory sharpness falls on his expression and, oh, you realize, he must've wanted this too.

Which is all that you need to fall into this completely.

And it's a transformation: a reshifting of limbs and the straightening of spine, something like a lock unlatching.

“Mr. Bunny Butler,” you begin, low and relishing and shy of being predatory, “bow your head.”

Xavier's nostrils flare at that. After a couple of seconds he complies, and seeing the sliver of his exposed nape opens something within you.

Against your shoulder the bunny ears snag, their length not allowing to fall along Xavier's pose. You bring one hand up to trace an invisible line across an ear, the fur short and soft. Xavier's quiet beneath you, but you can feel him stiffening at your every move. Braced a little behind his sides, his hands clench tightly.

“Can you feel it?” you ask, pinching the colored tip of the ear, pushing it back to observe its make. It's well-made, and you wonder if this one costs more than you'd expect.

Xavier shakes his head. You want to hear him, however, so you tap the back of his head in warning. He exhales loudly; breathes out, “No ...” and then tacking on: “Master.”

Your eyes narrow in pleasure, the flesh of your cheeks bunching from how wide your smile is. “That's my good bunny,” you praise him, caressing the curve of his head. He shivers—whether from the praise or the touch or both, you don't know.

To see him like this—a formidable hunter with centuries of experience, the force of stars pulsing underneath his skin, ready to rupture at his command—head bent low before you, hands closed in restrained fists, the lines of his body intersecting into a show of surrender. Yielding. It heats the core of your belly and your blood, and you can't help but bite your lip as you savor the image.

Leaning back and sitting on your calves, you catch Xavier's downcast stare. His brows furrowed as if concentrating, and when he notices you trained on him, his eyes do something that reminds you of the existence of the concept of puppy dog eyes.

Every time he does that, you think, you want to gobble him up.

Closing in on his face, you raise your left hand and cradle his jaw, tipping it up, gazes never leaving each other. Then you draw nearer, and nearer, until your lips almost brush against his. The sharp sound of his inhale is deafening in this lack of distance. Your eyes never leave his, but his drop down, nearly crossing, as he's distracted by your lips. His breaths are hot on your skin, and finally you aim at the corner of his mouth, and open your own to say:

“Don't move.”

And then you descend, trailing butterfly kisses along the edge of his lips, his cheek, his temple. Xavier goes spine-rigid at the first contact, forgetting to breathe for a second, before slowly exhaling, as if trying to hold himself together. His brows knit again and his eyes flutter closed, the line of his lips sloping downward.

He's controlling himself. And that delights you so much that you shift to kiss his earlobe and tug it once, then whispering directly to his ear, “That's my obedient bunny. Keep this up and I'll reward you.”

You stop to wait, and when nothing happens, you tug his jaw and take a bite at the shell of his ear—he gasps—and continue:

“What do you say?”

Xavier's shoulders lurch. He breathes once, twice, before answering.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Good boy.”

The first reward: a kiss on the lips. A quick, initial press before you pry him open with tongue, and he welcomes you eagerly from the way he surges to meet you. The hand on his face holds him back, but his own hands fly to your hips and plant themselves there.

You slap them away, he resists. You break the kiss, and he makes a disappointed sound, chasing you, and then realizes what he's done.

“I'm sorry—my lady,” he stumbles, putting his hands back in their previous position. He looks so properly chastised, you love it.

Outwardly, you sigh in disappointment, and he whips his head up, stricken. “After I said that you're obedient, you do this. What shall we do, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

“What—” He swallows. “What do you want me to do, my lady?”

In all the times you've tried to fluster him, Xavier doesn't really redden. At best his skin produces a soft sheen of pink across his cheeks that linger over his ears. Never tomato-red though.

But now, his face glows bright pink that gradiates to a noticeable crimson, ending at the tips of his ears. This is good development, you decide, something that you want more of. So you push further.

“Are you truly sorry, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

He nods meekly.

“Then”—a finger pokes at the center of his forehead and pushes, his head docilely tilting back, exposing his slender, beautiful neck—“don't move this time.”

You slip two fingers under his tie and pull it loose. The unobstructed slide of the silken fabric echoes around the room, punctuated by the hitch of his breath. The bunny ears jerk. To his credit, he's still as a statue, and the giddiness that you've been feeling for a while now mounts to a dull yet insistent ache that pools between your legs.

Then you unbutton his collar, which reveals more of that pretty neck. An alarmed sound forms in his throat, and you call his name in warning. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows whatever he's about to say.

And that Adam's apple becomes your next target: your mouth molds around it, sucking, and Xavier gives a full-body shudder. A groan bursts out of him. He's trembling, his hands—leather-gloved and creaking at the strain of his fists—his thighs, his shoulders. You can see how he wants to turn his head, to retreat from your hot mouth, but thinks himself the better of it.

You place your left hand under his head and kiss him under the angle of his left jaw.

“Ah—”

With your free hand, you trace down the outline of his neck to shoulder. His breath catches, he jolts away, his eyes shoot you a betrayed look.

“My lady—”

You plant another kiss in the dip of his collarbone. “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?” you ask against his moist skin.

He releases a shuttered exhale. Behind you, his legs move in a way that comes across as avoidant, as if he's hiding something from you. You glance down and realize the reason for his discomfort.

Saliva pools in your mouth.

But you swallow the surging desire ignited by the image of his arousal. It isn't time yet; you want to draw this out as long as you can.

Head still tipped back, Xavier doesn't see your discovery of his want, his eyes half-mast and his focus directed on reining himself in. If you remove yourself from the scene and study him from head to toe, you'd find Xavier the perfect picture of temptation, restrained, controlled on the surface but a collapsing star underneath, gravity pulling you to him and there's no way to escape.

Not that you'd like to escape in the first place.

You repeat your question, this time against his Adam's apple: “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?”

“My la—” He chokes. Tries again. “Whatever my lady wants.”

Ah. Such a good bunny.

Your hands drift down to the next closed button. His tie is loosened enough that you can remove it in one hard tug. And isn't that a nice thought: one strong pull and he's dragged along by the force, his lips inevitably landing on your lips, a welcome collision.

But you don't follow that path; instead, your hands drop lower, to the last button of his waistcoat. The sides of your hands brush against the seam of his pants, dangerously close to his already obvious bulge, and it dawns on Xavier that you're already aware of his worldly response, if the widening of his eyes is an indication. He whips his head to shoot you a meaningful look, as if begging you to ignore his lapse of control—as if that is an unwelcome development.

Sometimes, you think, Xavier wants to show you a side of him that only exudes assurance, a sharp blade and sturdy shield that envelop you in sidereal protection. Be it from outside forces and his own—and even yours. Physical dangers, most especially, but curiously enough: information. Knowledge. The matters of the past. The matters of the heart. The both of you may have confessed that day, the words of your promises embedded in your heart like an oath under the stars, but there are times when a shadow passes through Xavier's expression, and he seems so far away. Light-years away.

But right now, that thought isn't at the forefront of your mind: it is the way the redness climbs up his neck, his face, his cheeks, painting him a beautiful hue that reminds you of a recently blossomed rose. He truly is gorgeous this way.

One of his hands encloses around yours, stopping your ministrations. Minute tremors hum under his callused palm.

“I'm—” A quick breath. “I'm supposed to serve you, my lady.”

Ah. Truly such a good bunny.

You capitulate, hands retreating from the button of his pants, but not before caressing his trembling hand and squeezing it once. An indulgent smile unfurls in the line of your lips, and you make a snap decision.

The second reward: freedom. Xavier has expressed his desire to serve, to please, and you'll give him the freedom to choose how to enact it—

Under a specific instruction, of course.

“Yes, of course,” you say, tapping his warm cheek fondly with your index finger. “Serve me, then, Mr. Bunny Butler. Strip for me. Slowly.”

He catches that finger quickly with his mouth, bites it lightly, like it's a warning—or a promise. You let him nibble and lick your finger for a couple of seconds, the wetness sending electricity down your spine, and you can't stop the shiver that echoes throughout your body. Xavier narrows his eyes in satisfaction at your response, hints of a smirk around his lips, and that's insubordination if you saw one. So you snatch your finger away from him, and punish him by dragging your wet finger along the column of his neck.

He jumps at the sensation.

“Strip, Xavier,” you repeat firmly. “Make sure it's a good show.”

It just proves how dedicated he is at this roleplay: by this point he should have already ended this little act and would have taken over, but he's holding your critical gaze as his hands settle over the topmost button of his vest.

“I'll try, my lady.” His voice drops to a low, husky murmur, one that summons pinpricks down your nape and the back of your shoulders, crawling in a slow, deliberate tease.

He does try, indeed. He moves back, affording you space to see his torso without having to change your position. One hand to brace his weight, the other deftly maneuvering each button at a comfortable pace. For every button opened, he takes a deep breath, gives you a confident smile, albeit awkward at the edges. But the rhythm of it lulls you, and you find yourself playing with his bunny ears again—a right decision, because he makes a surprised sound, which morphs into a moan.

The returned proximity grants you the ghostly brushes of his knuckles against your clothed stomach when he opens another button. Because of this, the way your stomach contracts every time he brushes you becomes known to him, and Xavier huffs a laugh, and proceeds to be more purposeful with it.

You tug at his bunny ear, hard. “Mr. Bunny Butler,” you warn.

His shrugs his vest off as his reply.

Now, only left with shirt and tie, Xavier stares down at them, thinking about what to do next. You help him by pushing yourself flush against him, making sure that your thigh grazes his cock. He judders, shoving his face on the crook of your neck and groaning. Idly, you continue playing with the furred ears.

“My lady, my lady,” he mutters, and you feel him sighing, “don't tease me.”

You hum. “Then put more effort in your show.”

He peeks up at you under those pretty yet underhanded lashes of his, and you spy hints of a smirk in that mouth.

But before you can question him about it, a hand grabs yours and guides it to his tie, wraps it around the silk fabric, and pulls. Slowly, carefully. From this angle more skin is revealed under your wandering gaze—the tease of a nipple, flashing beneath that white shirt—and you gulp at the flutter in your belly.

Once the necktie is completely off him, he takes it from your hand and, indeed like a show, re-ties it around his neck, a ribboned gift. At this point you're ready to combust—and he's not even naked.

“Do you like it, my lady?”

“Yes,” you rasp, suddenly off-kilter, “very much.”

“Then ...” He resumes undressing, the buttons of his shirt easily extricated, his movements economical, and bit by bit his bare torso opens before your anticipatory eyes.

He stops at the tucked-in part of the shirt. Glances at you, bites his lip, and goes back to pull the front off so the shirt opens just below his shoulders, presenting you such a gorgeous view.

Xavier sinks into the propped-up pillows—and you unconsciously follow—and smiles. “All yours, Master.”

He knows—that little shit—the allure of incomplete nakedness. The gap, the gape, the patches of exposed skin surrounded by fabric. Xavier's using it to his utmost advantage.

By now you could have clawed his clothes away from his body, but somehow, this tastes more delicious, the promise of a tease, the prolonged heat-pulse that thrums in your core, and you're pretty sure, if Xavier's shallow breaths are an indication, that he's into this too.

Well. May as well take advantage of this luxurious present.

One hand descends on the side of his neck, and you see him tamp down the surprised jolt. This hand, light in its touch, ghostly, virtual, traces the edges of the necktie. You can hear Xavier's bated breath, waiting for your next step.

Then down, down, down to his collarbone, the dip of it, your index finger making laps twice, end to end.

Then further: his chest. And this time, it's not only your hand that wants to participate. You brace yourself on his shoulder and bend down to kiss the center of his chest. Xavier lets out a sound, and inhales sharply.

Next: his left nipple, with an additional teasing nip. His hips buck from the sensation.

You stay where you are, lifting your gaze to ascertain his expression. His head is turned away, hiding his face, a hand covering half of it. But it's useless for him to hide, because his ear is in your direct line of vision, and it's a glaring red.

This propels you to indulge more: the hand on his shoulder slides down to pay his other nipple attention. His legs shift, restless. The sounds of his gasps and moans occupy the room. You feast on him, laying your tongue flat on him and dragging it wetly until you hear him stutter your name.

“M-My lady—I—”

You surge forward, and the force topples the stack of pillows behind him. In the midst of this, you reposition your legs so that you're finally straddling Xavier, your skirt bunching up just below your waist, and—teasingly—grind against his straining cock.

He jerks, grabbing at your hips, attempting at more friction, but you remind him who's in charge, and he eventually relents, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“Sorry about that, my lady. I'm—I'm good now.”

“That's my good bunny.” Then you continue exploring his body with your tongue.

He tastes faintly of sweat but also the scent-taste of his body wash. He's showered just before calling you up. And for some reason, that does you: you rise to kiss him again, and your free hand sneaks itself under him—and grabs his bunny tail.

Xavier yelps, scarlet, shocked at the action, gaping at you and your smug face.

You squeeze the fluffy ball of a tail in response.

“M-My lady...!” he blurts.

“Shame that I didn't get to play with this last time,” you muse, feeling up the soft thing. It twitches under your curious touch. Delighted, you shift around Xavier's torso to lift his hips and study and poke at the tail repeatedly, entranced at the bounce and fuzziness of it. “A wasted opportunity, don't you think so?”

When you check Xavier's reaction, you have to hold back your laugh. He's clearly uncomfortable, but the discomfort is brought upon by embarrassment, as evidenced by his squirming and the persistence of his blush.

Words have left him, so he just averts your leery gaze, bury his face into the nearest pillow, and groans.

Taking pity on him, you release his tail—but not without giving it one last flick; he jolts—and slide your hands around the waistband of his pants. You're fumbling for the button and then the zipper when two gloved hands hinder your actions.

Xavier's face is rearranged into an indulgent yet mischievous smile. “My lady can enjoy me as long as you like. There's no need to hurry.”

But that's the thing, isn't it? You have already enjoyed him so much and enough that at one point things are bound to snap. He as your focal point of your want, the desire that thrums alongside your veins, almost like blood.

“But Mr. Bunny Butler,” you start, adopting a light, airy voice and tilting your head up at him, “there are a lot of things to enjoy from you. I'm not sure if one evening would do.”

Before Xavier can even get a word edgewise, you tear his pants open and yank his boxers down, freeing his cock.

“My la—”

His cock is a firm, solid weight on your hand, and Xavier bucks at the first contact, a halfway gasp ripping out of him. You watch his reactions as you stroke him slowly—painfully slowly, tantalizingly slowly—as your other hand crawl up his waist, flat palm spanning his side.

You know, intellectually and objectively, that Xavier is pretty. Gunmetal-grey hair that shimmers under the starry night sky. His smooth, unlined skin that you're harboring unholy envy for, soft under your curious fingers, almost pristine, untouched all his life. The column of his neck, strong bones underneath the layer of skin and muscle, the prominence of his Adam's apple. The outline of his body—even and proportioned, balanced like a finely crafted sword. And most of all: his eyes, the most expressive part of all of him. The color of an unperturbed sky, always clear and never lost. A steady glister in the darkness.

Right now, though, he's different altogether. Almost otherworldly in the way he's unraveling under your clever fingers. A shift of pressure and he's biting down the meat of his hand in a poor attempt to muffle his groans. A fleeting trail across the slit of his cock and his eyes flutter shut, his hips jumping off the mattress. He thrashes in chase of the pressure and pleasure you're providing him in crumbs, your need to see him lose that frustrating control of his. You keep stroking him and watching him blossom before you, petal by petal, limb by limb, nerve by nerve.

“My lady—” He's panting, running out of breath, his voice gaining that frenzied quality. It's music to your ears. “Master—Master, haa—”

He's coming, you can feel it. You can see it through his quickening breaths, the flush of his skin all over his body, the white-knuckled fist of his hands, the throb of his cock.

“My lady, I'm co—”

You release him, and the slow transformation of his face is such a fascinating phenomenon. From the crunch of pleasure, then crumpling into confusion. He raises his head to see you leaning back, hands away from him, his hazy eyes taking in what's happening—or its lack of. Then they widen, his mouth dropping open to release a sound of distress, round and full and cracking.

“Why did you ...”

You tug at the ends of the ribbon-necktie. He clicks his mouth shut.

“You said I can enjoy you as long as I like. There's no need to hurry.”

His gaze finally clears, and he gulps, nodding. Near your hips, Xavier's cock leaks.

“Then ...” You lay on top of him, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, your belly pressing against his pulsing cock (he freezes at this, and then continues to freeze), and place your arms on the sides of his head so your hands can reach the bunny ears. They still react delightfully under your roaming touch. “I'm going to enjoy these a little more. Don't move too much, okay?”

The room becomes pinched with quiet, and while you're intent on the furry ears atop Xavier's head, you can sense in your periphery his eyes on you. He's careful not to jostle you, the air he breathes catching on your skin, and you feel his arms snaking around your waist, settling on the small of your back.

“You really like the costume that much, huh.”

You hum in acknowledgment, rubbing the area where accessory meets scalp. You scratch it with your light fingernails, and Xavier sighs at the feeling.

When you leave the ears, you turn your attention to Xavier's expression next. He's still observing you, his flush now pale but enduringly distinct across his cheeks, and that entices you to meet his lips in a slow, patient kiss.

“It's nice, seeing you go through such effort to make me happy,” you answer him after you separate, punctuating the statement with a pleased, narrow-eyed smile.

A thought takes over Xavier, with the way his brows knit. Moments pass, you regard him, until he finally opens his mouth to articulate whatever has occupied him.

“My lady,” he begins, hesitant at first, but each word gains confidence, “there's something I want to do for you.”

“Speak.”

“I want you to”—and here his stare morphs into that puppy dog eyes again—“sit on my face. Please.”

You're stunned. The room continues to be quiet, and you're stunned. Xavier doesn't add anything after that; just waiting for your response. He's probably not sensing how you've finally shut down. You, felled by nine words, the last one an imperative period that brooked no refusal.

When he calls you, his face and his voice are tinted with uncertainty.

“Stars, Xavier.” You scramble up to reposition yourselves in accordance to his request. During this transitory moment, Xavier removes his gloves with his teeth. Now bare, both his hands come up to hold your thighs from behind, adjusting their spread and angle. You want to whine self-consciously, but glimpsing Xavier's eager expression as you move towards his head, you stamp that part in your mind. “Okay down there?”

He doesn't reply—instead he just goes for it.

Your hands shoot for the headboard, a surprised cry shocked out of you. Is this Xavier's way of revenge for denying his orgasm earlier? The way he confronts you is not unlike a battle, with his single-minded focus on his goal and his preciseness. He parts your folds with his tongue, pays attention to your clit first: sucks it lightly before dialing it up. You convulse, your hips digging down, and he moans, the vibration thrumming your flesh.

“Xavier,” you sob, “Xavier. Xavier.”

He laps around your clit like a thirsty man, hands kneading your thighs. He must've been thinking about this for a while now, with how methodical he's going by it, strategized to push you into becoming a complete and utter wreck. He kisses your clit then mouths it, moves his tongue in lateral glides that have you thrashing on your position. You grind against him, and he welcomes it wholeheartedly, and behind you his hips thrust helplessly in air, his stubbornly hard cock drooling with pre-come.

One hand nudges you forward and you follow, until his tongue enters inside you—you gasp and shiver at the slick intrusion—drinks you with such loudness that you wouldn't be surprised if his neighbors overhear what the two of you have been doing.

He knows how to prolong the barrage of pleasure, that heat and swell around your core, your undulating hips, sustained until you buckle and collapse from the force of it, your orgasm torrential like a storm.

When Xavier emerges between your legs, his face shines from your slick and his saliva. A fond smile slips out of you, and a finger traces the length of his lips; then your entire hand, cupping the side of his face, a tender caress. A smile of his own appears and he nuzzles your hand, kisses the center of your palm, eyes closed and sated.

“Good boy,” you praise, and he sighs happily. “So good for me. Have to reward you, don't I?”

The third reward: release. You move back to pull his pants and boxers off him completely, and Xavier just watches you with anticipation, breaths in quick bursts.

“You know the drill: don't move.” You underline this order with a tease of his cock, a line-trail from the tip to the base and then a quick squeeze of his balls.

When you align yourself above him and begin to sink down, Xavier goes rigid-stiff, daring not to breathe, careful not to move. You pause from your progress, and send him a worried look.

“Xavier?”

“I—I'm—” He bites his lip, exhales through his nose. “I'm okay, I just. I'm just trying not to react too much.”

“Why?”

He casts you a helpless gaze. “Because, my lady, I'm afraid that my control would slip, and I would have my selfish way with you.”

You falter at that. To be honest that's not such a bad idea at all, but Xavier knows that this is for you and your needs, and what you need right now—and what you want, if one were to ask—is him under you, at your mercy. Just as he is right now.

So you move lower, feeling the head of his cock open you up, slowly. And you can hear the hitching breaths unwittingly made by him, his eyes shut and his whole expression folded inward, as if he couldn't handle the pleasure descending over him.

A groan tumbles out of his lips, low at first, quick and fleeting, but as you inch lower and lower, the feel of his cock molding you inside, the wanton sounds he makes lengthens, gets louder, until he parts those glistening lips and vocalizes his satisfaction.

“My lady—you feel so—”

“Good, I hope.”

He doesn't wait until you bottom out; he bucks his hips to sheathe himself inside you completely in one smooth motion. You cry out from his action, his cock pulsing against your walls, and the feeling of him pulls you in further bliss that your eyes flutter closed and your back arches as the pleasure spreads throughout your body.

“The best, my lady.”

He gasps when you clench around him, your wetness dripping between your joined bodies.

You really think the best position Xavier has ever been is here right now: underneath you, helpless to your demands, seized by pleasure that you're giving him and taking from him. The way his face doesn't know what to do in the undulating waves of pressure as you begin to move above him, your hips lifting and then slamming back down; the film of sweat coating his skin all over, moistening the sheets beneath the two of you. The severe grip of his hands, bunching up the blankets in their deathly clutch. His rapid heartbeat under your palm as you support your weight by bracing yourself on his chest. His moans, his filthy, filthy moans—his moans that you will remember until your dying day because they are so far out of his cultivated normalcy—open-mouthed, slack-jawed moans that come from the core of his abdomen, surging upwards, frantic, crazed, melodiously and sublimely wanton.

“Look at you, Xavier,” you pant, and one of Xavier's legs kicks out. “Look at my bunny butler.”

“Master—Master—”

“What do you want, darling?” you ask, shakily tracing the side of his face. When your fingers near his mouth he turns his head to place a kiss at your fingertips, then drags his tongue out to lick at their length. Your index and middle fingers press flat at his tongue, and he groans around them. His puffs of breath beat in time with the movement of your hips.

One hand crawls towards your thigh, haltingly slides upwards, up to the junction of your hips, where it disappears under the spill of your skirt. Then it reaches behind to squeeze at the meat of your ass, and you gasp, stuttering your pace.

You take out your fingers so he can answer you, but Xavier grabs your wrist with his other hand and brings it back to his lips, trails kisses on each finger, murmurs nonsensical things against your saliva-coated skin until, louder, he tells you—

“Everything you can give me, my lovely Master.”

And, oh, isn't that a wonderful thing to hear? That readiness of his—be it in battle or in bed, he rolls with everything you throw at him, as though there's nothing that can taint you in his eyes, no betrayal to feel forsaken by. As though all that he's done, all that he's doing, is in service to you.

And it's because of this that you use the same hand to cup at his jaw and jerk it in your direction, bowing down to kiss him, bite his lower lip, thrust your tongue inside, lick the roof of his mouth, suck his own tongue—devour him fully and utterly.

He meets your intent with his own, just as intense, just as parched and hungry as you are for him. Every exhale is accompanied by a soft sigh, and you swallow his every sound—that lovely and soothing voice that lingers in your mind and haunts the edges of your dreams. His reaction just drives you to speed up your pace.

He's trembling all over, and tries to shift the angle from which you're riding him. Doing so affords his cock to hit something inside you, lighting up your body, starburst behind your eyelids, and you jolt, a whimper tearing out of your throat that Xavier drinks greedily. His hand on your ass traverses to your clit and plays with it, intensifying the blast of sensations on your lower body.

Obstructed by your mouth, Xavier tries: “My lady, I think—I'm close.”

“Me too, I'm—don't hold back—”

He doesn't. And he doubles his efforts in relentlessly stroking your clit and pounding up inside you, and the pleasure crests and crests and crests until you pulse and clench and come, sobbing at the white-hot crash flooding your nerves, collapsing on top of Xavier, mouths still connected.

And he doesn't stop. This time both his hands bracket your hips; grinds you down as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you. You're oversensitive but you don't stop him, just clinging to him and whimpering, and he begins to assail your ear, his panting tangible and hot against your skin.

“My lady, my lady,” he chants, voice shattering like glass. “My lady—Master—”

His orgasm feels like an echo of your own release, his spend filling inside you. Xavier gives a few more thrusts before slowing down and stopping. A self-satisfied sigh ripples over his relaxed body, and his hands climb to your back, guide you to pillow your head on his chest, embracing you as you melt on top of him.

Minutes pass, and his breathing evens; you expected him to fall asleep after, but when you look up his eyes are emphatically open.

“Aren't you sleeping?”

He glances down at you. Quirks a smile. “No, not yet.”

“Oh ...”

“We're not finished, my lady.”

“Huh?”

“You've had your fill, Master.” He smirks. Then flips you over, reversing your positions so he's now on top of you. He starts unbuttoning your shirt. “Now let me have mine.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #LaD fic #love and deepspace smut #LaD smut #love and deepspace xavier #LaD x reader #love and deepspace x reader #LaD xavier #nsft #fic #my fic #shen xinghui my beloved