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eldritch-spouse · 6 months

Note

One of your stronger demon oc’s: hey babe you interested in trying a new kind of foreplay? It’s called demonic possession

Their match: *looking confused* you already possess me though?

[Already talked about Livius with this, so why not good old Santi? Fem reader.]

The incubus laughs.

It's that same old rich, deep noise that had your knees weak the first time you heard it, and still manages to make you warm up briefly. Santi gives you a calm, lidded and loving look, it feels just the tiniest bit patronizing.

" Mm, that I do. "

He swirls his glass of sangria idly. You know he's not going to drink, its only purpose is to match your own set of cutlery, to make it feel as if Santi is having dinner with you, when he's really just keeping you company as you fulfill your basic human needs. You can't really complain about this though, the demon goes out of his way to order excellent dishes for you, and he never fails any of the "human meals in a day", as he put it.

" However- " The world rolls off his mischievous tongue. " I was using the word in a literal sense, love. "

You choke on the steak. " E- Excuse me? "

His head tilts, some sort of realization coming over that pale face when he studies your reaction. " No no, excuse me- I should have explained this to you better. "

Santi steeples his fingers for a moment, pauses, then plays with the glass some more, tracing its golden rim.

" You're familiar with the concept of demonic possession, right? " He starts, tone slightly more serious.

A shiver crawls up your spine, not exactly the most pleasant kind. " Y... Yes. Isn't it something horrific though? It's supposed to hurt! And deform someone's body! It can kill me! Why would you- "

" Easy. " Santi calls, watching your rambling get out of hand.

" Santi, that's insanity! You want to make me crawl the walls and start chanting things?! That arouses you? I don't think my body can- "

" Love. "

The more forceful tone silences you, but by no means is your apprehension quelled. Your appetite seems to fade in the face of possible danger.

There's a sigh from the monster in front of you.

" And this is why your silly little horror movies keep causing a divide in our society... "

That catches your attention.

A less inviting frown sits on Santi's face. " Possession gets an incredibly harmful reputation from your precious Exorcist movies. Each one more ludicrous than the last. "

It's your turn to frown. " Don't sit there and tell me that those things don't happen, Santi! Possession is done for all sorts of things and I'm not stupid enough to buy a lie that it's all sunshine and rainbows... "

You expect him to get even more upset, but instead, the incubus shakes his head, setting the glass down to look you in the eyes. " But it doesn't have to be that way, love. "

He continues when all you do is cross your arms.

" You've seen a hundred movies about demons with ill intent tarnishing the bodies of surfacers... But you've never seen a movie about a demon possessing the person they love, have you? "

Silence. He lets those words splay onto the table like a winning hand in a tense game of cards.

And, truth be told, you have nothing to counter that with. Because he's right. You have never heard of such a thing as possession between lovers.

" ... That's real? "

" More than real. " The high-ranker responds softly. " It's one of the most intimate thing you can do with an infernal partner. " Some of that earlier playfulness shines again. " And it can be so fun. "

You gulp, looking to the side. " It's dangerous. "

" Not if done properly. " Santi's quick to cut in. " A calm, willing vessel and a strong emotional connection will make it a much smoother process than the painful spasms you're privy to in your Halloween hits... "

It seems he has an answer for everything.

" Not to mention, as the bearer of my mark, you already have a little bit of me in you. It wouldn't be your body's first contact with my essence. " He's back to tracing the rim of the bottle, smelling it briefly, sharp pupils watching the berries in it sway before studying you once more.

" Why... Why do you want to do this? " It still sounds strange to you.

The dark fiend is silent for a few seconds, then leans forward on the table, glass set back down so his chin can rest on the palms of his hands. A grin with more teeth than lips threatens to cleave his face.

" Because it gets me really hard. "

... Can't fault him for lack of honesty.

Clearing your throat, you take a sip of your drink so you can think of what to say next. You need to pick your words right or this conversation will escalate to Santi playing with himself at the table.

" I could guess as much. "

" You're still hesitant. " He points out, piercings jingling as he tilts his head.

" I guess... What I'm more worried about is, how long it'll last. What you're going to do. What... What're the terms? "

His brows raise. " Treating this like a deal? How clever of you! Alright, here are my terms. "

Santi straightens, and although his smile is endlessly lascivious and wanton, he speaks clearly and slowly.

" I want to possess your delicious body for three days and three nights. During that time, you can hear, see, smell and feel everything that happens. You can talk to me and you will be given periodic control to perform certain tasks. "

He starts.

" I want to use it for both our pleasure, and I will be having sex with people I determine can service us well. I will not disclose to these people that you are possessed. " There's a beat of silence, before he adds something in forethought. " Although it may look as if some acts will be painful, you have my word that only pleasure will reach you. "

The meaning is not lost on you. " So you want to make me sleep with huge monsters? "

Santi winks, amused to be caught.

" That's relative, isn't it? What monster isn't huge compared to a human? Why I'm fairly huge to you. "

Your eyes roll. " What a charming non-answer. "

The incubus' jovial laugh is almost infectious.

" Come now, we'll see. "

It's your turn to make a move. Wide, blinking puppy eyes are cast towards the handsome demon. " Can't you even give me a pointer, it's my body after all... "

" Is that an agreement I hear? " He hums.

" Answer the question. "

Santi makes a quiet chuckle. " Very well. " Dark knuckles crack, he stares off for a moment, licking his chops. It's the signature look of a pervert looking forward to the near future.

" I have an idea as to who our first bedwarmer can be- "

" Of course you do. "

" I really do. " He snorts, the suave look breaking entirely for half a second where his amusement is so great he cannot help it. Santi waves for you to keep eating, waiting until you have a bite to continue.

" So, there's this bakery close enough, I've been meaning to take you there for a while now because I hear stuff there is divine. Anyhow, the guy in charge of it is really interesting. You know mindflayers? "

The very same bite you just took flies out your mouth, back onto the plate. The incubus stares at it for a second, then wheezes quietly. " Taking that as a yes. "

" Aren't mindflayers... Kind of reclusive? And evil? "

" Well, typically, yes- "

" And this one runs a bakery? "

" That's what I said- "

" What is he selling, brain croissants?! "

Santi barks out a laugh that nearly sends spittle across the table, having to look away from you, clutching his midsection and cackling like a madman.

" That's the thing- " The incubus clears his throat, nearly losing his composure again. " This one is very interesting. He's uhm- I'm not sure what the process is called, but he's a loner. Swore off people brains, or so he says. Trying to make an honest living! "

Slowly, you try once more to finish your meal. " And you want to fuck with him. "

" No... " The way his lips wobble at your deadpan is enough of a tell. " I want you to fuck him."

You make a face at the idea of laying with a mindflayer.

" Mhm, don't look at me like that. " Santi purrs.

Beneath the table, you feel his tail gently loop around your ankle, squeezing.

" Have you never thought about it? What can a lover with such long tentacles do to a cute little thing like you? How will he take advantage of your weak, simple-minded nature to do whatever he wants? "

When you gulp, it's not just because you need to swallow your current mouthful.

" Let me paint the scene, love. "

The incubus seems to be getting short of breath, the thrill of his own lurid fantasy forcing him to bite his lip and trace his own horn piercings with restless fingers.

" You're hardly dressed, the peaks of your nipples poking out a sad excuse of a top and your skirt so short the smallest brush might bare your cuntlips. You're hungry, we're hungry, so you walk into this cozy looking bakery to get yourself something sweet. Oh and many are the treats in that glass display, but the most appetizing of them all is the big man carrying a hot tray from the kitchen. He's tall, a peculiar mindflayer with a strange skintone and unusually thick build, his tendrils cascading longer than you'd expect. The look on his face is one of complete focus as his boots thump softly on the ground. Until he sees you, that is- "

Your attention to this little tale he's spinning is more rapt than you'd care to admit. Not that you need to, Santi can tell.

" His latest client. A human girl with this cute little smile and doe eyes. Mister Roland, you ask so sweetly, I've been told such wonderful things about your talent and pastries. You're oh so charming, so enticing, the poor baker can't deny the thoughts that course through his perverted mind. He wants to bend you over his counter, wants to spread you out before him and force your legs apart with his long nimble appendages. You'd make such a fine stress-reliever to rut into during breaks, wouldn't you? And you'd love getting stuffed full of illithid cock, right? You're begging for it after all... "

" God, Santi- " You mutter under your breath.

" Hm... Maybe all it takes is some simple conversation, letting those fantasies foment in his mind, building into a desire so pungent it would make even me crawl the walls. You tilt your head, kick your legs, lid your eyes and invite him away. He wouldn't mind a little interruption, surely. And then, oh then- With a little bit of my help, you'd turn him into a drooling beast. A species thought so impervious to all sorts of manipulations, all but barely able to think of anything except the taste of your pussy, the hug of it around his cock- He's lonely, lonelier than he's ever been now that he's on his own. You're probably the first thing he's going to fuck in a small eternity. Ideally, we get him here. Want to know why? "

Santi points to the bedroom, where a large mirror resides.

" I want to see him hold you up in those practiced hands and pound you into a pulp with his tendrils wrapped all around you, neck tits thighs, flicking your dirty little clit- Oh he may not eat your brain, but he's certainly going to fuck it out of you. "

" Holy shit, Santi- " You nearly yell.

" Fun, right? I told you. You just have to start believing in me a little more. " He's back to weirdly smelling the sangria.

The silence that follows is thick and heady, he lets you process the canvas he painted for you with a soft rumble of anticipation. You dare not look into Santi's eyes, because the depravity you'll find there will doubtlessly steal your will.

Fork and knife neatly arranged, you push the plate forward.

" I... I want a safeword. "

The way he lights up like a Christmas tree is impossible to miss.

" Of course, love. " The incubus sighs dreamily. " We can pick one tomorrow. Now, if you're done eating, let's get you to bed. "

" Because, after all, you're going to have a long couple of days ahead of you. "

#Santi oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #terato tag #monsterfucker #monster x reader #not sfw

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vectorisheree · 24 days

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I've realised that I've never directly promoted my fanfic here so here's a doodle from today's chapter and a snippet under the cut ^^

Sun oh so elegantly rips a sheet of paper out and lays it on the desk in front of you, pushing it to your chest with his index and middle finger. He then proceeds to open up his chest compartment and pull out a couple of arts and crafts supplies, while he works to set things up, you can spot a plush of him, the one you bought him, sitting politely in one of his woven paper crates with it's arm almost detached from its body. Before you have time to comment on it, Sun’s already finished his work, clapping to gain your attention as he stands proudly over his colourful display.

“Oh, what to draw, what to draw!” Sun leans over the desk with his back arched as he props himself up on his elbows, one hand tapping at his cheek in false thought “Friend, I'm sure you're well aware of the masterpiece in front of you, no? Have a hand at replacing perfection.” He rests his head in his hands as he offers his suggestion. You assume Sun's growing more confident after being buttered up by all your, admittedly terrible, compliments.

“You want me to draw you?” You ask, causing Sun to scoff at your words, their rays twitching slightly.

“A mere suggestion, that's all. You're free to draw whatever you want.” Sun replies defensively, like he totally wasn't alluding to it or whatever.

You vaguely wonder if Sun would prefer a cutesy simplified drawing of him or one that captures his ugly mug in all its horrific glory. You stretch your drawing muscles in preparation for an absolute masterpiece! You scrawl skilled lines over the paper in a shrimp backed position, each flick of the wrist carefully calculated for perfection. Sun, your distinct looking muse, stares in mild confusion as you work your magic. After a solid 15 minutes of work, your magnum opus is complete! A frankly demonic illustration of Sun lies in front of you in all its glitter glue covered glory.

Sun gracefully plucks the undignified portrait of him from your hands, and turns it around to observe it, stretching and standing to his full height, with an accepting hum before crumpling it up and shoving it in his chest compartment, in the same crate that his plush was in, “Management confiscated my shredder.” You stare at him with a ‘why the fuck did you have a shredder’ expression, “All artworks created in the daycare are property of Fazbear entertainment.” Sun recites some clearly well worn company policy “Now, we wouldn't want our little stars to walk home with company property, would we?” You shrug, not really getting it but not wanting to fight Sun on a rule he was probably programmed with.

Humming in satisfaction, Sun rips out another sheet for you before smoothing moving into a new, more extravagant, pose. He stands at an angle to you, leaning back as he rests an elbow on the desk in front of you and dramatically raises his other hand to cover his face in mock anguish. He's really getting into it, you are too. You carve your very essence into your work, lines flow together elegantly like a visual melody. When your grand performance is complete, Sun harvests your will and makes it one with his; crumpling your drawing into a little ball and putting it in his chest compartment. The dance you share of you drawing Sun and him crumpling your work up continues for hours, it's the most fun you've had with Sun, which is to say, the only time you've had fun with Sun.

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milaisreading · 10 months

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How about this one. a scenario where the manager goes out with her older step-brother on a siblings date. But the bllk 11 boys thought she was having a boyfriend and such and chaos start going everywhere:D? Love your writings btw!!💕

Author: I had this sitting in my drafts for abt 4 days, since smn else requested it too!! Hope u like it and thank you for the request 🩷

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

"Nagi, put down the knife." Rin warned as his eyebrow twitched. The albino groaned and put the item on the table. Rin rolled his eyes and continued glaring at the scene in front of him, until he noticed something from the corner of his eyes.

"Reo, who are you texting?" The billionaire heir looked up from his phone and huffed.

"I am writing the others what had happened. They are on their way here."

"They are what? Are you insane?" Isagi asked, finally wrestling a fork out of Nagi's hands.

"Did you seriously plan on stabbing the guy's eyes out with that thing?" Chigiri asked, never once looking away from the horrific scene in front of them.

What was going on? Why were these 5 boys.... agitated to say the least? And why was Nagi asking people, in the restaurant, to give him their knives?

"I am sorry about him." Reo sighed, flushing from the embarrassment and pulled Nagi away from the guests.

"Why are they so close?" Chigiri bit on his napkin, glaring at the older looking boy sitting across from (Y/n). The 5 boys felt their hearts get pierced as the saw (Y/n) laughed at something the older looking boy said.

"What did he say?" Rin muttered, eyes narrowing.

"I don't know.... but they do look very cozy with how close they are. Do you think the dude is her... boyfriend?" Isagi said, gagging at the last word.

"No no no, absolutely not. He looks too old for her." Reo said, frowning as they observed them from their table. Luckily for them, they were far away from (Y/n)'s table for her to notice them... but that also meant they couldn't hear anything.

"Do you think (Y/n) is into older looking guys? What a hassle, now I have to grow a beard." Nagi groaned.

"Please don't, unless you want to scare off everyone... but I am curious as to what that dude is to (Y/n)." Rin said.

"We are here."

"Where is the asshole who took my manager away?"

"Our manager, Otoya."

The five looked up and saw Hiori, Karasu and Otoya approach their table, all three seething in anger.

"They are over there."Chigiri said, glaring at the table.

"That lame guy? I should feel insulted that she picked him over me." Otoya blinked in disbelief as Hiori stuck his tongue out.

"He looks sleazy. How did (Y/n) fall for that guy?"

"There is literally 0 significance about him... what does he have that I don't?" Karasu wondered, nt believing she would settle for someone like him.

"Is the rest coming?" Chigiri questioned.

"Barou, Aryu, Bachira Tokimitsu, and Yukimiya said they are on their way. Kurona, Gagamaru, Niko, and Kunigami sadly can't make it. So I am keeping them updated on everything." Reo said simply.

"Eh." Isagi gasped, causing the rest to look at him in an alarmed manner.

"What?" Otoya asked, as the boy pointed at the table. The rest looked at the table, and their eyes either narrowed or widened in shock as they watched the unknown man pat their manager on the head. Karasu and Nagi kept quiet, not believing their eyes, meanwhile Chigiri and Rin tried to walk over to them, and save (Y/n) from the unknown man, but got held back by Isagi and Reo.

"What now? Can I kill him now?" Otoya asked, earning a nod from Rin.

"No... no listen. We can't cause a scene now, (Y/n) will be disappointed in us if we do." Reo started.

"Then what are we supposed to do? We can't let that guy steal (Y/n)." Nagi argued, earning a nod from Karasu.

"Besides, (Y/n) will-"

"She is leaving. They are both leaving." Isagi and Chigiri said, watching the duo keenly as the guy paid for the food and left the restaurant.

"Well, let's follow them." Rin told the group, earning a nod in agreement.

"At least he wasn't complete trash to let her pay for her own food." Otoya rolled his eyes, quickly following after the duo.

'I could have bought her better food.' Reo growled, texting the rest what was going on.

"Such a loser. An insect and nobody compared to me." Rin muttered in anger.

"I really want to kick a football into that ugly face." Nagi thought, an unfamiliar sense of anger taking over his body. Karasu rolled his eyes, just as mad as Nagi.

"I might assist you there."

"Isagi, do you really think (Y/n) likes that guy? They were pretty close." Chigiri said in worry, the blue-eyed ace giving his friend an unsure smile.

"No... I believe they are just close friends... there is no way (Y/n) will replace us with him." Isagi said, dread filling up his body.

Shortly after they started following the duo, the group of guys had walked into Bachira, Barou, and Yukimiya, who were less than pleased with the sight of (Y/n) laughing at something the taller said.

'I will crush him! I should be the only one to make her laugh! Not that loser.' Bachira clenched his fists as they followed them through Shibuya, trying to hold himself back from punching the guy.

'What does she even see in him? He can't even dress properly nor does he have the looks worthy of (Y/n)'s attention.' Yukimiya rolled his eyes, the familiar feeling of jealousy hitting him again.

"He probably smells like dogs." Otoya grumbled.

"And has the personality of a brick."

"And the looks of a poorly done pavement." Karasu and Chigiri added in.

"Barou, please don't cause a scene." Isagi begged quietly as the taller was held back by Reo and Nagi. Barou himself was the calmest among the group, but he was losing it rather quickly after they witnessed the unknown guy remove something from her hair.

'That bastard will eat dirt soon.' Barou's glare was scaring every unsuspecting person by now. But oddly enough, Rin was the calmest. His reason? Simple, it's because in his mind, nobody can beat him. He was a captain, after all!

'What sort of fashion nonsense does he have?! Those pants with that shirt?!' Aryu thought, watching as (Y/n) and the guy were looking through some clothes at the mall. (Y/n) was showing the guy a cute, pink top, very glamorous in Aryu's opinion, and the boy was smiling proudly at her taste. But the sweet moment of Aryu swooning over her was interrupted by the guy showing her some jeans she could pair it with. Aryu chocked on his spit as he saw it.

'He will ruin her outfit!! That should be me buying clothes with her!!'

Tokimitsu was meanwhile pouting as he was watching the duo. He didn't like how close they looked. He also didn't like how much that guy was more than him. The guy was way more talkative and more brave to say things that were on his mind.

'I can't even compare to him...' Tokimitsu thought as he was told by Aryu to go meet up with the rest, since they were waiting for the two at the food court.

Rin wasn't much worried about the guy taking hi-their manager away, after all, relationships change and Rin doesn't believe this guy will be able to hold (Y/n)'s attention for too long. Sure, he was jealous that he wasn't the one sitting across from her right now, talking and laughing over nonsense. But worried? No. Currently, Rin, Isagi, and Reo were sitting near the table (Y/n) was sat at, and kept an eye on the guy, just in case. The conversations were bland, to the trio, and nothing indicated that they were a couple.

"Maybe they are just close friends?" Reo suggested, looking at Isagi.

"Probably. We may have jumped to conclusions too fast." Isagi laughed nervously

"You did, lukewarms." Rin added in, earning glares from the two.

"You were jealous too." They said in unison.

"I remember that! That was while you played basketball." The three stopped talking and paid close attention to what (Y/n) was saying. The trio sat a few tables away, but were able to make out some things they were talking about.

"Ahh~ you remember that? It was so embarrassing, especially after we didn't qualify for the nationals." The guy chuckled.

'Loser.' Rin and Reo thought, while Isagi flinched a little. Remembering how he felt after Ichinan lost.

"Win, lose who cares? I really admired how well you took the loss and acted all gracefully over it during the interview. A real captain." At the last sentence, Rin stiffened and his heartbeat quicken. She never complimented anyone om their captain skill, other than him!!

'What was that?!' He thought, eyes narrowing.

"Uhm... Rin?" Isagi muttered, sharing a few worried glances with Reo.

"Earth to Rin?" The billionaire heir said, waving his hand in front of his eyes.

"You think so? I think I was a decent captain." The guy added in.

"You were the best."

That last part caused Rin to finally snap and he got out of his chair, he was ready to murder now.

"Who does that piece of trash think he is?" He muttered, sending warning glares at Reo and Isagi, who were trying to calm him down.

Without another word, the younger Itoshi walked up to the table, clearing his throat to get their attention.

"Huh?" The guy muttered, looking at Rin in confusion.

"Rin? What a surprise! I didn't take you for a mall guy." (Y/n) smiled, unaware what was going on the whole time. She looked past the taller boy, seeing Reo and Isagi approach them.

"And you are here with Isagi and Reo? An unlikely combination." She joked a little, causing the 3 to relax a little as she laughed.

"We were just walking around, and wanted to say hi. It's all." Isagi said, wearing his usual smile.

"Yeah, it was a surprise seeing you here, too." Reo added in. The trio talked, ignoring the glares Rin was sending the older guy, who grew more and more unnerved at the stare.

"And you are here with..." Isagi started, sending a suspicious look towards the guy.

"Oh! This is my older brother, (B/n) (L/n)." (Y/n) answered, pointing at the older boy excitedly.

The trio felt their glares soften and they blinked a few times.

"Brother?!" Reo exclaimed.

"Is there an issue?" (B/n) wondered, suspicious of the trio.

"N-not at all! It's just-"

"We couldn't tell you two were siblings." Rin interrupted Isagi rather bluntly. (Y/n) laughed at that as her brother rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, we are half siblings."

"We get that a lot, don't worry, Isagi." She said, seeing the embarrassed look on his face.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, I am Reo Mikage." The purple-haired boy said kindly, trying hard to not make a bad impression on him.

"Isagi Yoichi, it's nice to meet you." The blue-eyed boy added in.

"Itoshi Rin." The now embarrassed Itoshi said, looking away with a huff.

'He is like a child.' Reo and Isagi facepalmed.

"So this is the team..." The older (L/n) muttered, eyeing the trio up and down, shrugging his shoulders right after. The three held their breaths, wondering what he meant by all of that.

"Aha! Told you they are great!"

"You... you talked about us?" Reo asked in shock.

"Constantly." The brother rolled his eyes, earning a pout from (Y/n).

"I am impressed, slightly." He added in monotonously.

"That's like the nicest thing you said about any of my friends." (Y/n) gasped. Hearing that, the three felt their spirits perk up a little. There was still hope for them!

"Do you guys want to sit and eat with us?" She asked, earning a no from Reo.

"Sorry, we have to...uhm..."

"We need to buy something and quickly go home! Sorry (Y/n), maybe next time!" Isagi quickly added in. The trio quickly after walked away, leaving the siblings a little confused.

"They are weird." (B/n) said.

"But a good kind of weird!" She defended them in return.

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi #manager reader #blue lock requests #reo mikage #chigiri hyoma #itoshi rin #yukimiya kenyu #barou shouei #aryu jyubei #tokimitsu aoshi #karasu tabito #otoya eita #nagi seishiro

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dontbelasagne · 5 months

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can we appreciate how theres not just one **main** character for tmagp? you start ep one thinking how neat it is following the sarcastic queer icon Alice and how she will survive terrible things by pure wit alone, but then get introduced to Samama being the one to become buddies with the h o r r o r s first and wonder if he will be our main entry into gradually breaking down. but then we are greeted with Colin and his suspiciously close encounters with the strange technical features of the OIAR and potentially being put front and centre to mortal dangers. but, and you've guessed it, then we find ourselves with orderly Gwendolyn who happens to have the surname Bouchard and a keen eye (ha) on securing the position of Lena Kelley, a person who doesn't find it necessary to hide the weirdness of their occupation and the type of "person" one must be to manage it. until ep 2, when Alice comes to mention how you just have to find your way to compartmentalise all the harrowing information you come across, and how it's funny (worrying) these voices randomly turned up a year ago, and how odd it is everyone else tends to ignore the speech-to-text voices but Samama has immediately begun his own personal interest into what this all means and how dangerous that is in order to not lose yourself. you begin to realise how this isn't a single persons one track destiny to fearful damnation, but a whole warped and crippling angst that has the potential to suddenly avalanche in horrific pleasure and hurt EVERYONE in its path.

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tma #the magnus archives #tmagp alice #tmagp sam #tmagp speculation #tmagp colin #tmagp gwen #tmagp lena #tmagp chester #tmagp norris #alice dyer #samama khalid

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soothinglee · 5 months

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rainy days⏤✰

lee felix x reader | 0.8k✔︎

my notes⎯ I hope you like this one! I personally love when it rains so why not combine my two favorites! lets cross our fingers and hope I can get another story out by tomorrow. also I found that I get a lot of inspo at 4 a.m, something about the peace and quiet!

warnings ⎯ none! just some (failed) light-hearted humor.

genre⎯ fluff

songs⎯ prelude in e minor, op. 28, no. 4

⎯ catalog for skz✰

the forecast on the news had told viewers that there was an expectant rain shower coming in from the south. nothing too heavy where you had to be worried about ringing out your drenched socks and fighting back when the wind upturns your umbrella.

that weather man is a liar.

the downpour that hits your windows drums in a consistent pattern, puddles of rain water pools on the window ledge, the wood begins to warp after countless efforts of stopping the leak from the cracks in the seal, ultimately ending in vain.

you had ditched the soaked towels for a warm cup of tea, wrapped in a wool blanket on your couch as a re-run of some over-rated show plays on the monitor. it had be only 30 minutes since you last heard from felix; he had texted you notifying that practices had ended early due to the unpredictable storm coming in, how chan firmly told them to stay safe on the way home and how 'fatherly like' he was acting.

in return you heart his message and send back a- he's right! no texting while driving! see you soon!

due to the rain clouds hovering over the sun the sky had darken in the short amount of time it took felix to get home, and when he did he did not try to hide it.

from the kitchen, where you were huddled over the kettle on the stove, you heard the front door smack open and seconds later a loud squelching sound.

"babe?" he drawls out, unmoving from where he stands, "can you uh, can you come here?" theres a comical desperation in his voice and you can't help the chuckle that slips from your lips.

you ditch the mug in your hand to cater to your helpless boyfriend, who stands there with his arms eagle spread, hair stuck to his forehead and neck like glue. there was a faint smell to him that started to over power the candle you had light awhile ago.

"phew," you huff, holding your nose walking towards him. a amused smile graces your lips, "you smell bad."

he rolls his eyes and lets you take his jacket off his back and watches you drop it to the floor, "yeah yeah, just hurry please? it's starting to get itchy and I don't know if its me or outside but something isn't right."

"yeah you think?" felix lets out a laugh and attempts to grab you with his wet sleeve but you manage to slip away in due time, though not without a scar. the backside of your sweater has a long wet strip in the middle of it. "look at what you did to me!"

"how about you quit complaining and help me!"

"nobody told you to go out and not bring an umbrella."

"(name)!" he takes his second jacket off and leaves it where the other lays and begins to remove his shoes. he takes a second to look at it, then at you, and then tips it over. a bucket full of water pours from the sole and onto the circle carpet underneath him.

as you stand there you can't help the horrific expression that makes its way onto your face. neither of you say a word as you watch the last couple droplets fall before you sniffle and shake your head blankly, "that's just disgusting."

felix, with the same expression says, "tell me about it, I wore it."

after a second you shake your head to clear the revulsion and go to grab all the discarded clothes. they feel ten times more heavy in your arms due to them being in a bundle so you rush towards the laundry room to leave them there. on your way you shout to felix, "go in the kitchen and finish off the tea! I started it before you came in."

Felix makes a delighted noise and you hear his bare feet smack against the floorboards, "for me?"

you roll your eyes though he can't see it and round the corner to where he stands hovering over the sugar and honey, "duh, but save me some."

"of course." his voice comes out as a soft mumble and you can't help but smile.

both of you stand there in each other company. it was peaceful, the sound of the rainfall against the roof of your apartment, fighting its way inside through the windows. the occasional clink of the spoon to the mug as felix stirs in the sugar. no bright overhead lighting, the only source of lumination was the small table lamp in the next room. you close your eyes to take it in. it made you feel serene.

a light weight is pressed onto your shoulder and you open your eyes to find felix looking at you with a glimmer of concern, "you okay?" he whispers, careful not to rip the ambiance with his voice.

you hum, a gentle smile taking over your face as you lean forward and place your head on his hand, "never felt better."

#lee felix x reader #Lee Felix x you #Lee Felix x y/n #skz x y/n #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #stray kids #bang chan #lee felix #soothinglee

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melodygatesauthor · 2 months

Text

Feeling You Can't Fight - Chapter Three

Not Beta Read - Masterlist - Pride Event Fic 🏳️‍🌈

Written for the @flightlessangelwings pride event - (Yes this was written for the 2023 pride event and I'm trying to finish it before pride 2024 I'M SORRY).

Summary (Entire Fic Summary)

After replacing the loathsome former staff manager of the National Art Gallery in London, you find yourself all too interested in one of your employees in particular. Manager and employee relationships aren't allowed, and even if they were, you aren't sure if the nervous gift shoppist would be interested in you anyway. There's only one way to find out...

Reader Inclusivity

Reader is not race coded, is a cis man, taller than MK by a few inches, British, ex military, has a big peen

Tags/Warnings (for entire series)

NSFW, writer is NOT from the UK so please be gentle, I did my best with UK terms and such, smut, anal sex, oral sex, anal creampies, cum eating, cum swallowing, rough sex, Marc has DID, reader has mild PTSD, PTSD symptoms, trauma responses, semi-public sex, praise kink, fluff, comfort, angst, romance, love, forbidden relationship (boss and employee), minor physical violence.

Word Count: 3.1k

“Wait love wait!”

The entire demeanor of the man in front of you changed into the sweet, caring man that you were smitten with. You let go of him, stepping back and looking down at him with a furrowed brow. You felt your heart racing as your fight or flight kicked in. Steven looked nervous as he stepped forward, pressing his palm to your broad chest.

“D-darling I…well…we have something we want to share with you and I thought that if we’re getting more serious then…no time like the present yeah?”

“Steven…what’s going on?” You were trying not to express your irritation with him, but your balled fists gave you away.

“M’gonna let Marc tell you everything but you have to promise not to hurt him, yeah?” Steven looked up at you, brows turned up and knitted together as he awaited your answer.

He gulped, rubbing your clothed pecks with his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your button-down. He tried smiling at you, biting his bottom lip. You didn’t like making Steven so frightened so you let out a deep exhale. If he wasn’t scared or in danger, then you didn’t need to be so on edge. You nodded slowly.

Steven let out a deep breath, “right then, gonna let him out now.”

You watched in awe as Steven’s eyes rolled back in his head and then his body changed again. He stood a little taller, and his expression appeared a little darker. The man breathed deeply, looking up at you before pulling his hand off your body as though he’d been burned. He averted his gaze. You could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks get a little more rosy.

“What the fuck is happenin’?” You asked in a serious tone.

“Look, I told Steven you weren’t ready for this conversation but he insisted we have it so…here we are. He said it was gettin’ serious with you and he didn’t want any more secrets between you two,” he cleared his throat nervously, “my name is Marc Spector.” The man shrugged, “I guess the easiest way to tell you is to just get it out there so…I have an identity disorder as a result of my childhood trauma.”

You both stood silently for a moment while you absorbed the information. You recalled your time in the British Armed Forces, and some of the horrific things you’d seen. Trauma caused the brain to do amazing things; Things that were difficult to explain sometimes. You understood trauma well. You looked at Marc’s face, seeing the seriousness behind his eyes. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t some guy trying to mess with you, or pull a fast one on you. This was a man who had been through something horrible, or several horrible things, and it caused his mind to tear at the seams.

You nodded in understanding, “alright, yeah, I don’t know everything there is to know about identity disorders but, I’ve got some mental issues of my own mate, keep goin’.”

Marc nodded and exhaled in relief, “well, my…our mom…”

You put a hand on Marc’s shoulder, “s’fine, you don’t have to explain it t’me.”

“I…Steven, wants me to, he wants you to know, and he’s right…I need to be the one to tell you, because I’m the one who was there.” He looked away from you and at the floor, “our mom used to beat me, she hated me.”

You squeezed Marc’s shoulder gently. His head jolted up, glossed eyes meeting with yours. He shook his head, as though he were begging you not to make him continue.

“I meant what I said, and I’m talkin’ to Steven too…you don’t have to explain this t’me. I understand.”

“Fuck,” Marc said, turning away from you and covering his face in his hands.

I was awkward as hell to stand there while Marc cried, but you were glad he was getting it off his chest. You wondered if he’d ever shared this with anyone, or if it was only you. Either way, you knew he wasn’t sharing for his own sake, but instead for Steven’s, and you could respect that. When you look back now, you think that on the same day you met Marc, was the day you fell in love with him too, but you didn’t realize it yet.

“There’s another one too,” Marc looked at the water glass on the table.“Steven, I have to tell him.” You watched the - from your perspective - one sided conversation between Marc and Steven. “You didn’t want to keep this a secret but you want to keep him a secret? St–” Marc grumbled and then looked at you, “I’m telling you, even though Steven doesn’t want me to.”

“Tellin’ me what?”

“Jake is the third one of us. You may never meet him, but he’s here nonetheless,” Marc let out a sharp exhale, “We don’t really see him much either, but…the three of us get along…kinda.”

“Well, if he’s part of Steven’s life, then I look forward to meeting him,” you gave Marc a kind smirk.

You watched Marc’s entire body language change. It wasn’t like before when he switched from Steven to himself, but instead, it looked like his entire body relaxed with your reassurance. Marc looked like he might collapse and start crying again right then and there. You wondered when the last time he’d talked to someone about this was…if he’d ever talked to someone about this.

“Damn. That was…easier than I thought. You took that surprisingly well,” he said, giving you a tight lipped smirk.

“Had a boatload of therapy,” you shrugged, “I learnt long ago that you can’t really tell how the mind is gonna deal with trauma.” You thought now was as good a time as any to change the subject, seeing that Marc was getting uncomfortable again. “So are you…do you like…” you pointed to yourself. Of course you would hop from one uncomfortable topic to another.

Marc’s eyes shot wide once he realized what you were suggesting, “no, no, I like women, one hundred percent.”

Marc crossed his arms and cleared his throat nervously.

“But this, Steven and me, that doesn’t bother you?” You asked.

“Oh, oh, no. Steven’s happy, and the way I see it, that’s the only thing that matters,” Marc’s lips managed to curl into a smirk.

You could tell he cared about Steven, and so the two of you had that much in common, but that wasn’t the last time you saw Marc. You saw him again when you and Steven got into your first argument. It wasn’t anything serious, but it seemed to upset Steven enough to force him into the headspace.

The argument was stupid, and if you were being honest, it was a little funny. Steven walked into your office one afternoon, closing the door behind himself. He was stammering, as he often did when he was thinking about what he wanted to say faster than the words could come out. You chuckled, standing up and walking over to him, cupping his face.

“S’alright love, just tell me what’s wrong,” you brushed your thumb over his stubbled cheek.

“Gettin’ fed up with Linda not pickin’ up her mess in the break room,” Steven groaned, “I know s’not a big deal, not really, but I told her three times to pick up after herself and she still acts like a right slob.”

“Steven, that’s not really somethin’ I deal with,” you said as he huffed out a frustrated breath.

“I know, sometimes I just want to complain a bit, yeah?”

“C’mere,” you said, motioning with your finger.

He walked back over to you and pressed his face into your chest, “I’m irritated.”

You wrapped your arms around him, “I know darling,” you pushed him back at arm’s length, but I know something that might help.”

Steven had joked about wanting to blow you under your desk, but he’d never actually done it yet. In fact, he hadn’t blown you before at all. He acted like you were doing him a favor when you sat down in your big office chair with your legs spread out and his face between them. The way his eyes went wide with excitement and he started drooling you would’ve thought he was the one getting a blowjob.

He looked hungry, fumbling with the button and then the zipper of your pants as he released your cock from its confines. He always - always - made a comment about how big you were. His eyes crossed as your dick lined up between them, and he seemed breathless despite not yet having done anything at all.

“Steven, darling, might be too big f’you to fit in your mouth, it’s alright if you don’t want to.”

He looked up at you, putting a hand on either of your thighs.

“I want to,” he said softly.

Steven licked a stripe up your length, forcing your cock to twitch in response. You grabbed the arms of your chair as he repeated the gesture. You bucked your hips upward involuntarily. Steven giggled and looked up at you.

“Ooh, needy…” He wrapped his fingers around your girth, pumping up and down slowly, “you’re a bit leaky too love.”

“Are you gonna keep teasin’ me, or are you gonna be a good boy and take this thing like you were made to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steven nodded with a shaky breath, smile fading at your words. You felt bad being so verbally rough with him sometimes, but you knew he enjoyed it. Whenever the two of you were in bed together it was like flipping a switch, making him hard in an instant. You slid down further in your chair, moving one of your hands to the back of his curly head.

He licked up your length again before taking the head in his mouth. You shuddered seeing Steven’s lips stretched around your fat dick. It seemed like he really was made to take it, sliding over the length as though his gag reflex was nonexistent. You exhaled sharply, feeling the way his tongue rolled over the underside of your shaft.

“Oh god Steven, takin’ me so well love, that’s it, just like t-that,” you pushed him down over you even more, “you tap my knee if it’s too much darling, don’t wanna hurt you.”

You felt his throat contract around you. There was still more to go, and you wanted nothing more than to see your entire dick disappear inside his precious mouth. You brushed a thumb over his cheek.

“Relax your throat, Steven, open up f’me,” you felt his muscles relax and you were able to push in further. “That’s it, that’s my good boy.”

Steven moaned over your length as he started bobbing his head in a delicious rhythm. He took one hand off your thighs and you heard the clank of his belt while he started freeing his own cock. The sound of him jerking himself could just barely be heard over the sound of him choking on your dick.

He looked up at you with affectionate and tear glossed eyes when you carded your hand through his hair. You bit your bottom lip and started rolling your hips slowly forward into his mouth, brushing your pubes against his nose as he took every single inch you had to offer.

“Steven, you sure you’ve never done this before?” Your entire body trembled, “s-so good…”

You heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching the door. You both froze.

“Steven, you locked the door, yeah?”

Steven, in fact, hadn’t locked the door.

Steven made himself as hidden as he could in the space under your desk, where the intruder wouldn’t be able to see him. You rolled up as close as you could get without crushing him in there. John, your boss, walked in, smiling big. He stepped over, putting a hand on the varnished surface of the desk, leaning in to talk to you.

“Hey! Just stoppin’ in to tell you I think you’re doin’ great, and those reports you sent me yesterday…perfect.” He patted your shoulder and you jumped in response.

You felt Steven between your legs trying to put your cock back in your pants, but struggling given its current…state. You were close before while he had it buried in his throat, and that hadn’t changed in the seconds that had gone by. You were still close, and him moving it around wasn’t helping that issue. You kept your eyes on John, but tried like hell to push Steven’s hands and face away from you, but to no avail.

“Well I’m…oh…” you cleared your throat, “I’m glad you l-liked them.”

Steven didn’t get the hint, he was still sliding his hand over your length, trying to get it back inside your boxers. You couldn’t try very hard to stop him, or it would be obvious you were trying to do something under your desk, so you stopped trying, and just hoped that John would leave before…oh god.

You slammed your hand on the desk, “f-fuck!”

To John, you must’ve looked insane, like you were staring at him wide-eyed and shouting for no apparent reason. To you and Steven, you were coming, hot ropes of your spend hitting your boyfriend in the face under the desk. You managed to keep yourself from saying anything too telling, and you kept your breathing level…as level as you could.

“Fuck I forgot to sign the agreement for the…the uhhh–”

“Oh! For the new display going into the Ancient Egypt section of course! I’ll go get that right now!” John chuckled, “glad you remembered that, I’ll be right back.”

As he walked out, you rolled back in your chair to see Steven’s pretty face covered in globs of your spend. He looked pissed off, crawling out from under the desk and grabbing a few tissues from your desk to clean himself off.

“Darling, what’s wrong? You’re the one who–”

“You…did this…all over my face!”

“Love, I couldn’t help it, you kept touchin’ me and–”

“And,” he held a finger up, “and you could’ve locked the door before havin’ me do that in the first place!”

“Steven, you could’ve locked the door yourself when you walked–”

“I wasn’t plannin’ to come in here and do somethin’ like that now was I?”

You could see the embarrassment in his flush cheeks. He seemed exasperated, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. He wasn’t really mad at you, but you doubted you’d be getting another ‘under the desk’ blow job any time soon.

“Now your boss knows what we were doin’ and he’s gonna make you fire me and maybe he’ll even fire you and–”

“Stop…” you cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“No!” he pushed you off of him, “no, m’not gonna let you just kiss this one away. We could’ve been caught, you’re reckless and this isn’t like me at all! I don’t do things like this!” Steven stormed out of your office, passing John on his way out.

That was it…that was the argument.

You supposed that with Steven never having really been in a relationship before, an argument with his first ever significant other could be upsetting, despite it being such a silly thing to argue over. Taking that into consideration, you decided to tread lightly when you got home, toeing off your shoes in the entryway of his flat when you arrived almost silently. That’s when you noticed that Marc was there, not Steven.

“Hey,” he said, tipping back the beer in his hand and then holding it up, “want one?”

You shook your head, “no thanks.”

It was like Steven had a roommate. At least…that’s how it felt. Marc was the more stern one, like he was the polar opposite of Steven, but you didn’t mind. You liked the company regardless. Marc was a good guy, you could just tell. After a couple of minutes talking about the weather, the two of you managed to get into something more serious.

“You said you’ve been to therapy? Mind if I ask what for?” Marc took another swig of his beer.

“Uh, PTSD, spent a few years in the British Armed Forces and then got myself honorably discharged after…” you sniffed out a laugh, “maybe I will take that drink after all.”

After a few drinks, you and Marc were trading war stories and with it, your tales of trauma. You wondered how long it was going to take him to open up to you about why and how Steven came to be, but there Marc was, letting down his always stoic demeanor in order to open himself up to you.

He cried, and you opened your arms to him.

“No, no I told you I’m not…that’s not my thing…”

You laughed, “s’not a ‘thing’ to hug someone when they’re sad, Marc. C’mere…”

You tugged his jacket and pulled his rigid frame into your arms, wrapping them around him tightly. At first he was stiff, still mumbling some protests, but then you felt him exhale, like his entire body were a balloon being emptied of the air inside of it. That’s when the heavier sobs came, tears spilling out of his eyes and onto your forearm.

“Steven is so good, and sometimes I think it would just be best if I don’t ever come out. Sometimes I think that the world would be a better place without me in it,” he said between heavy cries. He looked up at you, “Steven could be happy, and be with you all the time and–”

“Steven would miss you, Marc,” you looked into his eyes, seeing the pain he felt just made you want to hold him closer, but you knew that would only make it more awkward.

You didn’t have to worry about feeling awkward though, because he leaned up and slotted his lips over yours all on his own. You pulled back in surprise, wondering if he did that by mistake or not, or if Steven had decided to come back when you didn’ notice.

“S-Steven?” You asked, looking between his eyes rapidly.

He shook his head, “no, still me,” he said breathlessly, looking down at your mouth before pulling you in again.

You smiled against his lips, “how unexpected.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

80 notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 3 months

Text

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Last chapter is next my loves. I appreciate you all for being on this journey with me!

Warnings: SSSMMMUUUTTTTT. Kinky smut. @n@l 😉

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @xx-like-a-villian-xx @diabolicdiatonics

Part 11 - The Death of Peace of Mind

I sat in the chair of the restaurant, my chest shaking with laughter at Jolly’s retelling of one of our first stage performances. This was before Matt joined us, and we were an absolute mess of a band. Our first album had just released, and Sumerian was throwing us into shows we were absolutely not ready for.

I had stood in front of the massive crowd at the festival, my throat sticking together in fear. Vince was already playing the opening rift to Exit Wounds, and I completely spaced the words.

I stood, still as a block of cement, staring out at the faces. After about three repeats of the opening to the song, Nick finally hollered into the microphone.

“Noah, get it together!”

Something about that snapped me out of my trance, and I began singing, still terrified.

It took half of the song for me to find a rhythm. And then, I went absolutely berserk.

I jumped around, head banged for my life, and sang the vocals. While I was thrashing on stage, screaming loudly into the mic, I somehow managed to get a little too close to my stand, swinging my face straight into the bracket that held the mic.

Cutting my face just above my left eyebrow, I was oblivious, still head banging, and spraying blood all over myself, Jolly, and some members of the crowd.

It was horrific. Vince had described the scene as ‘a bloodbath with a little metal thrown in’. I didn’t realize I was bleeding until I felt the hot liquid running into my eye. I wondered why the entire crowd was staring at me like I was insane.

“Oh my God! Did you stop the set?!” Laura asked.

Nick shook his head. “Fuck no, dude! He tied a bandana around his forehead and played the entire thing! It was the most hardcore thing we had ever seen!”

Mileena was staring at me from where she sat in the chair next to me, inspecting my face. “I don’t even see a scar!”

Chuckling, I rubbed my forehead. “I had to get ten stitches after. The guy at the ER was cool, managed to put them in my eyebrow so you couldn’t see the scar.”

She reached up, running the pad of her thumb over my eyebrow, and smirked. “Glad you survived.”

Her words were sarcastic, but she giggled after.

It had been three days since Mileena’s deposition, and since that time, we had been slowly getting back to a normal amount of communication.

I could tell she was hesitant, but I insisted that we needed to at least try and get along, for not only Addison’s sake, but ours as well.

Whether we wanted to admit it at any given time or not, we needed each other. And after what she said to Rachel at the law office? All of my anger toward her had faded, and I was, once again, finding myself seeking her out more and more.

She was soft with me, allowing me to call at least once a day, and would converse with me in texts. We were trying, but progress is slow.

We sat at the large table, big enough for Leena and I, Laura and Nick, Jolly, and Folio. Nick had asked us to join them for dinner, but wouldn’t tell us why.

We had ordered and eaten, now half of the group were enjoying drinks, with the exception of Leena, Laura, and myself. They continued listening to Jolly tell his stories, which was certainly his strength in conversation, when I felt a hand on my knee.

I looked down, noticing Leena’s hand casually placed on my leg, her eyes still looking across the table at the guys, enthralled in the tale he was telling. It was comfortable, a familiar form of affection.

I let my hand fall over the top of hers, squeezing gently, watching as her lips quirked subtly at the gesture.

“Okay, as much as I want to hear another embarrassing story of myself…” I said as I lifted my free hand in the air. “Nick, are you going to tell us why we’re all here?”

Stealing a glance across the table at Laura, his eyes sparkled, something excited.

“You ready?”

Laura was resting her chin on her hands, a warm smile on her face. “Whenever you are, babe.”

Nick reached down beside his chair, a black gift box appearing on the table, bright red paper ribbon wrapping the top.

“Should we let Mileena do the honors?” Nick raised an eyebrow at Laura, who just nodded in response.

Leena’s hand left my leg to reach for the box, smiling wide. “Me?” She held the flat box, running her fingers over the ribbon. “What is it?”

Laura bumped Leena’s elbow from where she sat next to her. “Open it and find out, dork.”

Carefully, Mileena pulled the ribbon with her fingertips, until the bow on top fell loose. She shimmied the top of the box off, all eyes curiously trying to see the contents.

Red paper covered whatever was inside, and Leena unfolded it, revealing some kind of fabric underneath.

Her hands covered her mouth, and she gasped sharp.

“Oh my God…”

I leaned over to see. “What is it?”

Inside the box, under the paper, was a red and black tie dyed shirt, that was obviously very, very small, with the words ‘Baby Omens’ written over the top.

No, it wasn’t a shirt. It was a onesie.

When my brain finally clicked together, my eyes snapped to Nick.

“Dude!”

“What?! Someone fucking show us!” Folio and Jolly were bouncing on either side of Nick.

“Leena, hold it up.” I pushed the box toward her. She carefully grabbed the fabric, eyes welled up with tears, and held it on display. I watched Jolly and Folio’s mouths fall open, eyes bulging.

“You’re having a baby?!” Folio hollered, and Jolly wrapped an arm around Nick’s shoulders.

“Hell yeah, dude! Congratulations!”

Mileena had set the onesie back down, noticing the piece of film paper in the bottom of the box.

She lifted it, eyes scanning the sonogram photos, and tears began spilling.

“Lo! I’m so fucking excited!” She squealed, wrapping her arms around her best friend, “You’re going to be a Mom! I’m so fucking proud!”

Laura squeezed Leena tight. All of the guys stood, wrapping up Nick in a huge group hug.

“Bro, you’re a Dad now! I’m not alone anymore!” I told him, hands on his shoulders.

He smiled at me, something like excitement and fear mixed on his face. “You better be ready to show me the ropes, dude.”

I laughed. “What fucking ropes?!”

This made everyone break out in wild laughter.

“How far along are you?” Folio asked as Laura sat back down in her chair, and we all followed.

“Fourteen weeks.” She said proudly.

“How long have you known?!” Leena sounded absolutely hysterical.

“Relax. Only a few weeks. It didn’t even occur to me that I was late until Nick mentioned something.”

He nodded to her statement. “Girl went like two months without a period. See, she thinks I don’t pay attention.” He held his hands up.

She scoffed. “You pay attention to my cycle, but not to where you left your favorite socks?”

“Ya got me there.” He smirked. Reaching a hand across the table, he held hers tight, giving her the most genuine, lovesick look I’ve ever seen.

For a second, just a passing breath, I was jealous.

But my love for them, and my genuine excitement at being an Uncle, and my brother finally being a Dad, overshadowed any ill feelings I had. This was great news, and a hell of a way to cheer us up out of the darkness we had all been swimming in.

We stayed at the table, talking and celebrating for a while longer, before finally making our way out of the restaurant.

I stood, the palm of my hand pressed to the small of Leena’s back, guiding us toward the side of the restaurant with the group.

“Leena, I know you didn’t drive here. Are you getting a ride with us?” Laura looked at her, but I caught her glancing up at me.

“Uh,” She chewed on her lip, deciding her next words, or waiting for me to.

“I can give her a ride.” I spoke solidly.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to drive out of your way to take her home, when we’re already going there?”

Clearing my throat, I wrapped a hand around Leena’s hip, building some confidence.

“I’m going to take her home.”

Laura gave us a knowing look. “Home…as in…?”

Leena just giggled, and turned, her hand pulling my arm along with. “Goodnight everyone.”

The drive back to the house was filled with Leena gushing over Laura and Nick’s news.

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me! I mean, I can. I know she had concerns before about fertility, but still! We live together! I didn’t notice!”

I laughed. “Maybe you were distracted?”

She shrugged back into the seat, looking out the window. “How self-centered is that? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own bullshit that I didn’t know my best friend was pregnant?”

Reaching a hand over the console, I brushed my fingers over her arm, grabbing her attention.

“It’s been a rough year, Mileena. It’s only fair that you had a lot on your mind.”

“I guess. I just feel bad.”

“You know now. You can be there for her every step of the way. She’s still early in. You’ve got plenty of fun ahead.”

She laughed at that, me joining her. “Oh, yeah. If she’s anything like me, she’s going to be pretty moody.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “If she’s anything like you, Nick will be hiding at our place at least twice a week.”

She stared at me, mouth hanging open. “What?!” Her hand reached over to swat at me. “That’s why you were always ‘going to the studio’?!”

I couldn’t stop the bursting laughter coming out of me. “Babe, I have a studio in the house. How did you not know?!”

“You fucker!” She was cackling, but also pawing at me. I caught her wrist in my hand, reaching up and licking a long stripe along her forearm in retaliation.

“Ew!” She snapped her arm back, rubbing it on her jacket, cringing. “I hate being licked!”

Lowering my eyes at her for a second, I smirked. “That’s not true.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “In-sufferable.”

After only about ten more minutes, we were pulling into my driveway beside Andrea’s car. I let us in the house, and we both stopped, amused at the scene in front of us. The living room was in a haphazard state of disarray, toys sprawled all over the floor, a few stray Cheez-its scattered on the coffee table. The TV was still playing the tail end of Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone, and Angel, like the true marvel he is, was laying starfish style across the entire couch, snoozing.

In the recliner, Andrea was leaned back, hair askew, and eyes closed with sleep. Addison was laid on top of her, face pressed against her stomach, already in pajamas and hair braided tightly on the back of her head.

I stole at glance at Leena, who was trying not to laugh at the scene.

She looked up at me. “You put Addie in bed and I’ll wake Andrea?”

I just nodded, slipping my shoes off and dropping my coat on the back of the couch. Leena walked over to Andrea, carefully peeling the baby off of her and handing her to me. She stirred for only a moment, eyes cracking open, before she dropped her head down on my shoulder, right back into her dreams.

I heard Leena rousing Andrea as I made my way up the stairs and into Addie’s room, Angel right behind. I laid her down on her toddler bed, tucking the blankets in around her, and cracking the door.

By the time I was headed back down, Leena was hugging Andrea goodbye.

“Sorry she was such a handful.”

Andrea waved her off, smiling. “It’s fine. She’s just so rambunctious these days.”

“Well, she’s almost two, so it’s getting harder to keep a handle on her.” Leena shook her head.

“Oh absolutely. Let me know what you all do for her birthday. I already got her a gift.”

I stepped up behind Leena, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Party will be here. We just haven’t settled on a day yet. It’s in two weeks, so we’ll let you know soon.”

Andrea nodded, smiling before she left, leaving Mileena to lock the deadbolt behind her.

She turned and looked at me, her eyes big and brown, tearing through my soul.

I had her, something in me told me I did, but I was still so unsure.

“So.” I sighed, putting my hands in my pockets.

She grinned. “So.”

Daring to press my boundaries, I took a step toward her, causing her to back up, back flat against the door. I kept myself impossibly close, without making actual physical contact with her body. Her eyes looked up at me, a serious look on her face.

“What now?” I asked.

“I really don’t know.”

My teeth pulled at my lip, waiting a beat before I finally decided on what to say.

“Would you hate me if I kissed you?”

Her eyes widened subtly, her face recognizing the memory I was drawing from.

Towering over her, and pressing forward to box her in against the door, I leaned my head down so my lips were level with her ear.

“Would you tell me to stop?”

Pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, I watched as her tongue grazed over her lip, stare locked on me.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her lips parted just enough to invite me in. I leaned in close, and brushed our lips together so gently that it was barely considered contact.

I felt her fingers very slowly press into my chest, and wrap around the fabric of my shirt, tugging me in closer.

That was all it took.

Locking my hand around the back of her neck, I pulled her in, pressing her lips to mine hard, fingers tangling in the long hair at the base of her skull. Her mouth moved with mine, her tongue fighting past my lips, tasting my own with fervor.

A soft, sweet moan erupted from her throat, which threw me over the edge. My hands grabbed her waist, lifting her off the ground. This pulled a sharp squeak out of her before she wrapped her legs around my waist, replacing her mouth on mine.

Her body was locked in place against the door while my hands gripped her thighs, nails leaving marks where they dug in.

I let myself have this moment, body pressed against her, lips locked with hers, electricity zapping between us all at once. It was so satisfying it almost brought tears to my eyes.

It felt fresh. It felt honest. It felt like something was finally the way it was supposed to be. It didn’t feel desperate or sad. No pain. All love. All acceptance.

This was what was supposed to happen. This is where we picked it back up.

I used my hands to secure her to me before pulling away from the door, turning us, and walking us over to the couch. I sat down, her legs straddled over my lap as she kissed me, her lips trailing down to my jaw and neck. I let my head fall back as her tongue left soft kitten licks over my adam’s apple, a chill running up my spine.

Her fingers were already pulling my shirt up from where it was tucked into the waistband of my pants. Hands popping open the front of my slacks, she unzipped them easily, never letting her mouth disconnect from my skin.

“Noah?” Her voice was so small, muffled against my ear.

“Mileena?”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for, so I think you should get comfortable.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. I felt the air leave my lungs all at once, my hands falling to the sides of us, completely helpless.

Did I die? Was this heaven? If God is real, is this what everyone talks about? Nirvana, if you will.

She slipped off of me carefully, her long skirt sitting just below her belly button, showing off the black jeweled ring tucked into it. Her black, tight crop top hugged her perfect, round breasts. She had obviously opted to go braless this evening, as her nipples were pointed hard through the fabric of her shirt.

Punch-drunk on the sight, I just watched as she smiled devilishly at me, her hair falling partially over her one eye, and kneeled down in front of the couch.

Her hands trailed up my legs, tugging on my slacks so they slipped down my waist to my thighs, exposing my black boxers, bulging in the crotch.

Slowly, meticulously, she ran a hand up my leg and over my cock, massaging through the fabric. A hiss fell from my lips as I watched, mesmerized by her every move. After more than a few painfully long moments, she hooked her fingers into the hand of my underwear and pulled them down, releasing my cock.

Any sense of calm and collect she had prior to that moment was gone, as she sat up straight in an instant, and leaned forward to run a long stripe down the underside of my shaft. My legs twitched, and I couldn’t help but moan loudly. It was such an insanity-inducing feeling.

She let her tongue circle the head a few times, gathering all of the precome she could, before wrapping her lips around me and letting my cock slide all the way down the back of her throat, and gagging harshly as a result.

My hips bucked involuntarily, and my hand gripped the back of her head, fingers digging into her scalp.

“Holy fuck.” Was all I could manage as she pulled back, tears in her eyes, her eyeliner smudging just enough that she looked fucking edible.

I assumed she would need a moment, but she swallowed back down once again, gagging herself on my dick, gripping the base with her hand.

The sight was ungodly, and I was going to fucking lose it. I wouldn’t last long with her behaving this way. This was what men only dreamed about.

“God damn, girl. You must’ve really missed me, huh?” My fingers tightened in her hair, pulling it at the roots.

She could only manage a garbled ‘mhm’ with her mouth so fucking full.

She choked again, but continued on like an absolute warrior.

“Wow, what a good fucking girl. Choking on my cock like that?” Pressing her down harder, I felt her throat spasm around the head. “You’re so fucking starved for it, I can tell.”

She pulled against me, her head popping up sharp to catch her breath. I let go for a moment to allow it, tears now falling freely.

For a second, I almost thought it was too much, until she just licked her lips and went back at it, barely skipping a beat.

My head fell back on the cushion, eyes rolling to the back of my skull. It was too good, and I wouldn’t last.

“I’m going to come if you don’t slow down, Princess.”

Her eyes flashed up at me, a sweet, innocent look from under her lashes. I felt my entire body convulse.

“Jesus!” My pelvis jerked, pushing myself further down her throat, eliciting a wet gagging sound.

With a few thrusts, I was spilling down the back of her throat, my cock twitching in her mouth while she swallowed.

My hand fell back onto the couch, releasing my grip on her. She pulled off of me with a pop of her lips, smiling up at me, leaning her cheek on my thigh.

“Good?”

I was still attempting to catch my breath when I looked down at her.

“Something like that.” My words came between gasps of air.

She chuckled, standing, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

She turned, moving to walk back toward the other side of the room, but I was too quick, lunging and pulling her to topple on top of me.

I connected our lips, eagerly tasting the salt and saliva on her tongue. My brain was racing, dying for a taste.

Disconnecting us for a second, I smiled at her. “Where you going?”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she grinned. “To fix my face. I’m sure my makeup is all over.”

I pressed my lips to her cheek, humming against her skin. “You look stunning.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Sure, I do.”

“You do.” I pulled her on top of me, and I fell back on the couch, laying flat. “Good enough to eat.”

My hands grabbed her hips, forcing her onto my chest. She steadied herself with a hand on the back of the couch.

“What are you doing?”

I pulled at her skirt, tugging at the waistband.

“Take it off.”

Carefully, and with an inquisitive look, she lifted herself enough to slide the long skirt off, leaving her navy blue panties beneath.

“Those too.”

She obeyed, sitting back down on me and staring, a primal hunger in her eyes.

Making my point as clear as I could, I pointed to myself and demanded. “Sit.”

Her eyes blew wide.

“Noah…”

“I’m not asking.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Bullshit.” I tugged at her hips, dragging her forward against her physical protests. “I’m not fucking asking.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the depression has put more than a few pounds on me.”

I scoffed. “And?”

“And, I will fucking crush you!”

There wasn’t anything about what she said that made sense. Was she as thin as she once was, when we first met? No. Did I give even a half of a fuck? Not a chance.

I laughed, reaching up to nip my teeth at the inside of her knee.

“You will not crush me. Suffocate? Maybe. I’m good with it. Will gladly pass away between your thighs, Princess.”

“Noah! I can’t! I’m fat!”

My laughter stopped abruptly, and my hands stilled. I narrowed my eyes at her, reaching a hand up and gripping her hip hard. She griped at the force.

“Listen to me.” She tried to avert her eyes, but I reached up and caught her chin, forcing her to look back at me. “Don’t ever say that about yourself again. You are a fucking goddess, you understand me?”

She pouted, clearly not hearing what I was saying.

“Don’t believe me?”

She snorted. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh?” I quirked an eyebrow and released her, pulling my arms back behind my head. “Okay, Princess. Exactly what parts of you are fat?”

Covering her face with her hand, she groaned. “Everything! My waist. My hips. My thighs. My ass. I have stretch marks. My breasts aren’t as perky anymore. My neck is chubby. I’m a mess, Noah.”

She looked to be on the verge of tears, so I leveled with her.

“Alright, let’s take this one at a time.” I propped myself up on the couch pillow, massaging my hands into her legs.

“Your neck?” My hand trailed up, gripping the skin around her throat, and I smirked. “Perfect fucking size. Fits perfectly in my hand.”

A tinge of pink crept up to her cheeks. So far so good.

“Your breasts?” I let my hand fall onto her right breast over her shirt, my other hand gripping the opposing. “Perfect. Now not only a sight to behold, but also knowing you used them to feed my baby? To give her the nutrients and immunity she needed to be healthy? There’s something instinctive about that. I love them more now than I did before.”

She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Your ass…” I reached back behind her, gripping my fingers into the skin on either side, and she rocked back into them. “Fucking delicious. Would bite through it if you’d let me. After everything, it’s only gotten easier to grip, which is so fucking great. Would live here if I could.”

She smirked at me, leaning back against my hands. I could feel a familiar moisture beginning to pool against my chest.

“What else was there?” I perused, then smiled. “Oh right, your thighs and hips?”

My hands grabbed her thighs, pulling them apart, taking in the sight of her lips glistening. It was working.

“These are honestly my favorite part. They’re so fucking thick, strong. Wrapped around me? Fucking Christ.” I licked my lips. “Could die like that, baby, I swear it.”

“I get it Noah.” She giggled.

“No, no. Let me finish.” I finally ran my fingers gently over the skin of her abdomen, tracing the few stretch marks she typically hid. “These,” I smiled, this time a warm smile. “are the proof that you’ve endured the hardest task a woman can do. You gave me my baby girl. I thank whatever God is out there for every last one of these stretch marks.”

I could see her eyes getting misty.

“You, and your body, are perfect. Everything about it is amazing, and all I want to do is bury myself inside of it…if you’ll let me.”

Her mouth hung open, clearly disbelieving everything I had said.

“Now that we settled all of that,” I waved my hand between us, and grabbed her hips again. “would you please sit on my face?!”

A hard, strained laugh fell out of her, but this was truly no laughing matter. I needed her.

So instead of asking, I pulled her, using the strength of my arms to bring her to me, her pussy centimeters from my face.

“Fucking finally.” I groaned before diving in, and latching to her core. My mouth was lapping at her, making her squirm and wiggle.

I felt her knees trying to pull away, trying to get further off of me. She was hovering, trying not to put weight on me, so I grabbed her thighs, and pulled her down, pressing her against my face.

My eyes shot up, giving her a warning glare, before I went back to my work.

I licked her clit softly, teasing her. The sounds coming out of her were unholy, making me work harder to draw them out.

Her arm was gripping the back of the couch, and I could see her stomach muscles tightening. I hummed into her, my lips finding her favorite spot and attaching mercilessly.

“Oh my God, Noah.” Her head fell back, and her body began writhing, riding my face, making me smile.

I felt her let go, her pussy bucking into me, my voice making soft vibrations while I tormented her.

“I’m going to come if you keep doing that.” She warned.

Naturally, I’m not one to heed a warning, and continued my ministrations on her sweet spot, making sharp screams burst out of her.

“Oh God, Noah. Fuck, don’t stop. I’m going to come. Oh my God.”

My eyes were closed, focused. I felt my dick twitching between my legs, already back at full attention.

Her orgasm ripped out of her in the form of a guttural scream, riding herself through it in my lips, and I took my time lapping up every last drop.

Eventually, unable to hold herself up any longer, she fell backwards on the couch, her chest heaving hard.

I sat up, pulling her back to me, and lined myself up to her with precision, surprising her as I pressed in all the way to the hilt.

Her eyes popped open, mouth falling open.

I sighed, so fucking stimulated, so fucking alive.

My hips thrust hard into her as I bent down to kiss her lips.

She was feral, a wild animal, grabbing my hair and pulling my face to hers, tongue licking my lips in a sloppy fashion, tasting herself on my skin.

There wasn’t much rhythm to my movements, desperate to feel every inch of her around me.

“Leena,” I breathed, catching her eyes. “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

She couldn’t respond, so fucked out and spent already.

“I can’t believe I ever let you leave me.” I snapped my hips harder, the sound of skin on skin filling the walls of the house around us.

“Can’t believe I ever let anyone else touch you.” My rage was pouring out through my words. “No one gets to touch you.”

She still didn’t respond, just gripping my shirt with her fingers, nails attempting to rip at the skin underneath.

I stopped, pulling her up and grabbing her hips, flipping her onto her stomach.

“Ass up, Princess.”

She eagerly followed command, getting up on all fours.

I pressed back in, leaning down onto her back so I could speak directly in her ear.

“You’re mine, you understand?”

She didn’t acknowledge me, so I wrapped a hand around her throat, pulling her up so her back was nearly flat against mine.

“Understand?”

She nodded frantically, and I let go. “God, Noah, it’s so fucking good.”

Her head was hanging between her shoulders, body nearly limp.

“Yeah? How good?” I let a hand fall hard on her ass, causing a loud slapping sound.

She screamed in surprise. “Fuck! So fucking good!”

Another slap.

“You miss me, baby?”

“Yes.”

Slap.

“Yes! Yes I missed you!”

“What did you miss, Princess?”

“This.”

Slap.

“Your cock.” Slap. “Fuck, Noah! I’m fucking close.”

“Oh? Going to come again?” Slap. “You fucking love being punished, don’t you?”

No response.

Slap.

“Yes, Noah! Fucking love it.”

“Good, good girl, Leena.”

Do I dare? We never got a chance to. But she was so fucking hot, so fucking relaxed. She only ever let me spank her and talk to her this way when she was at her most comfortable.

Deciding to try, I let my hand fall on her cheek one more time, but then let my fingers massage into the hot, red skin. With each swipe of my hand, I got closer to her hole, eventually letting my thumb swipe over it gently.

Her head snapped up in shock, her head looking back at me.

“Think you want to be a really good girl tonight, Princess?”

I slowed my thrusts, letting her think on this. My finger was pressed firmly to her now, massaging with light pressure.

“I haven’t, ever…”

Her voice was nervous, so I pulled my hand back, running it gently over her back.

“Hey,” She glanced back at me. “we definitely don’t have to. If it’s too much, just tell me.”

She bit her lip, and her hips pressed back into me, lifting her backside to where my hand was.

Oh, today is the best day ever.

Gently, and so carefully, after making sure my fingers were fully saturated with spit, I ran a hand over her ass, slipping my index finger inside, past an impossibly tight ring of muscle, and she gasped.

Not daring to move, I just let her adjust to the intrusion, and waited until I felt her begin to move again.

This went on for so long. Just adding slow and steady pressure, eventually slipping another finger in, while simultaneously thrusting into her.

“Oh God.” She moaned.

I stopped still. “Okay? Do I need to stop?”

She just shook her head. “It’s good.” Her eyes were squeezed shut, teeth grit together. “Real fucking good.”

I smiled, and pulled my fingers out of her. She whined, but I bent down again, my lips brushing at the crest of her ear. “Think I can try?”

She didn’t look at me or speak, only nodded in response.

Leaning back, I pulled out and nudged her gently. Like I had dreamt it, she pressed back into me, while I applied pressure, letting the head slip in, stars nearly exploding behind my eyes.

A hiss came out of her throat, so I stayed still, waiting. After a moment, she took a hard breath and nodded. “Go ahead.”

I pressed in further, trying to wrap my head around how fucking tight she was. Where her pussy was warm, soft, tight, and welcoming, this was…different. It was raw, rigid, animalistic, and fucking beautiful. Something inside of me nearly died when I felt the friction when I started to thrust.

The sounds coming from her were absolutely unbelievable. Nothing like it could ever compare.

“Fuck, Noah, oh my God.”

I picked up the pace, an instinct telling me we couldn’t stay like this too long. I was so fucking close.

“Touch yourself, Mileena.”

She didn’t even question, her hand reaching down to circle her clit, her body relaxing as she did.

It wasn’t but a fraction of a minute before I was nearly screaming, begging her to come. My release came as a free fall - no air, no gravity, just white hot fucking fire raging.

Her body began to spasm around me, pulling every last ounce of my orgasm out, before we both collapsed.

I pulled out of her gently, her body jerking at the sensation.

I laid next to her on the couch, staring into her eyes. Looking for any sign of discomfort or uneasiness.

All I saw was her love, her adoration. Every last fiber of her being pulsating.

I leaned over to her, my lips breathing her in before I lazily kissed her. She molded into me, tangling us together in a web of heat and sweat.

When we finally let ourselves breathe again, she nuzzled her nose against my neck.

“That was incredible.” Her voice was soft.

“There aren’t words.”

She chuckled. “So what does this mean?”

Shrugging, I tucked her in close to me. “I don’t even care anymore.”

“No?”

“Nah. It doesn’t need to be that deep.”

She stood up, then, and I stared at her, fearful I had said the wrong thing.

Seeing my concern, she smiled. “I’ve got to clean up.”

Smirking, I sat up. “Shower?”

#fanfic #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Star Child Part 8

Out of the frying pan, but did they land in the fire? Steve certainly thinks so.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

***

Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin had barely gotten to the parking lot when suddenly all their phones were blowing up. Steve had tried contacting Eddie first, but when that failed, he had tried all of them. Whatever it was the matter, it certainly had freaked Steve out enough to try and get a hold them by any means necessary.

Jeff was the one that managed to answer his phone before Steve hit voicemail and called one of the others.

“Hey, man,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“Is everyone okay?” Steve asked, his voice trembling.

“I’m going to put you on speaker so you can hear all of us at once, okay?” Jeff said soothingly.

“Yeah...” Steve muttered. “Yeah.”

Jeff put it on speaker and one by one the others chimed in.

“Gareth here,” he said, “You’re kinda freaking us out, man.”

“Are you guys still at the club?” Steve gasped.

“No, dude,” Brian said. “That place is creepy as fuck.”

“You got out okay?” Steve asked, his voice cracking from emotion.

“Stevie baby,” Eddie cooed. “I’m okay. But um...you’re not going to like this.”

“Your Uber driver is pissed you left him hanging?” Steve breathed through the speaker of Jeff’s phone.

All four members looked at each other in shock.

Eddie gulped. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Are you still in the parking lot?” Steve asked.

“Our Uber just pulled up,” Brian said and wandered to the car, but Jeff stopped him.

“Call the driver,” Gareth said. “Make sure it’s the right guy.”

Brian stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at the club. The music could still be dimly heard out here on the pavement. The lights pulsed in a twisted way. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number the app gave him.

And instantly the man in the sedan picked up his phone.

They all sighed in relief.

Brian walked up to the driver’s side window and the man rolled down the window.

“Hey, man,” Brian said, waving his phone. “We’re tourists and wanted to make sure we had the right car. You’re Vince, right?”

“Hey, no troubles,” Vince said. “I’m one of the few drivers willing to pick up from this club, so I get it.”

Dread pooled in Eddie’s stomach. “Steve baby,” he said to Jeff’s phone, “Can I call you back on my phone? It’ll be quick I promise.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah okay.”

Jeff hung up and they piled into the car, Brian taking the front seat. Eddie called Steve up and immediately Steve answered.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered. “What’s got you around the twist, Stevie?”

“I’ll tell you once you’re at the hotel,” Steve said. “But um...I don’t want to hang up.”

“And I won’t,” Eddie murmured. “So talk to me, tell me about how recording is going.”

“We’re stalled out for the moment,” Steve murmured. “The label is pissed that I did four of the five albums in three years and am about to churn out the last one.”

Eddie winced. “You able to do anything about that?”

“Robin and I have a meeting with a kick ass contract lawyer tomorrow,” Steve said with the first hint of smile Eddie’s heard all night. “Plus, Robin is super smart and made it air tight.”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” Eddie said. “You still writing songs for this album?”

“Hell no,” Steve said. “I haven’t wrote anything new for these guys ever. I have notebooks filled with old songs and I pick the ten or so worst songs imaginable and record those.”

Eddie blinked, his jaw dropping. “Are you telling me those absolutely horrific songs that you have been putting out is a deliberate fuck you to your record label?”

Steve laughed, bright and beautiful and Eddie’s heart clenched at the sound. God, if this kept up, Eddie would have to admit to being in love with this boy.

“Yep,” Steve said, popping the P.

Eddie laughed too. “Oh my god, that makes so much more sense, because you are so fucking talented...”

“And those songs are shit?” Steve teased.

“You have no idea, Stevie,” Eddie said grinning.

The car came to a stop and they were at their hotel.

“We’re at the hotel,” Eddie said as they all piled out.

Steve let out another shuddering breath. “‘Kay, now stay in the lobby or go to the restaurant.”

Jeff and Eddie share glance as they do as Steve asked.

They all huddle around the phone at a table in the hotel restaurant. They order drinks and an appetizer.

“What’s going on, Steve?” Brian asked.

“Okay,” Steve said, “I want to apologize for the cloak and dagger routine, but you guys were in the club of the biggest crime lord in the Austin area.”

The Corroded Coffin boys went offline.

After a moment Gareth squeaked, “Come again?”

“I’m going to send you a link to the documentary I did the voice over for a couple years back on the guy,” Steve said. “But the tl’dr of the whole thing is that he is absolutely the most dangerous man you’ll ever meet.”

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed. “I pissed him off.”

Steve let out a noise that was somewhere in the vicinity of a whimper and a scream. “Why?”

“He wanted me to stay in town tomorrow,” Eddie explained, “and let the band take the bus to the next venue and then I would take his private jet to Santa Fe to be in time for the sound check.”

“Oh,” Steve breathed as though he had been sucker punched. “Oh god. I’m so glad you turned him down, but Jesus H Christ, Eds.”

Eddie nodded even though Steve couldn’t see him. “What would have happened, Stevie?” There was silence. “Don’t. Don’t go there. Don’t make me find out from a fucking documentary. Just...tell me.”

“Depends on what he wanted from you, I guess,” he whispered.

Eddie closed his eyes and could fill in the rest. Yeah, he wouldn’t have made it out of Austin. He would have been drugged and ‘he’ would send a message to the band that he was staying in Austin with Henry Creel. And then probably dropped off a complete mess, addicted to all kinds of drugs and drunk off his ass in the middle of nowhere when Henry was done with him.

“Shit, Steve-o,” Jeff murmured. “What would this dude want with Eddie?”

“My guess?” Steve said solemnly. “A pet rockstar. Who better then Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin? He probably would have let Eddie release a couple of solo albums just to prove how much control he had over him, but yeah. It’s fucking terrifying.”

“What should we do?” Gareth asked.

Steve took in a deep breath. “Take a flight to Santa Fe. Have the bus follow behind. Make sure your instruments are on separate bus.”

Jeff let out a whine. “You have to understand how insane that sounds.”

“I know,” Steve murmured. “But I really, really don’t want to read the headline tomorrow night that your tour bus rolled over and you’re dead or in the hospital on life support.”

“Babe,” Eddie said desperate. “I’ll do it for your sake. But shit this sounds batshit crazy.”

“Just–just watch the documentary, okay,” Steve said softly. “And then tell me I’m being paranoid.”

Brian buried his head in his hands and dragged his fingers over his face. “No, I’m with Steve on this one. That place gave of these vibes that screamed death and pain. And if this guy is even an ounce of evil he says he is, then we do as Steve-o says.”

The band looked around the table and then nodded.

Later that night when they were huddled in Eddie’s hotel room on the bed as the credits rolled on the documentary Steve sent them, the room as so silent a pin dropping would have sounded like a bomb going off.

“Okay,” Gareth said, his voice trembling. “Does anyone else think Steve undersold how creepy this guy is?”

Brian let out a shaky breath. “Maybe not quite undersold, but yeah, I don’t think there is anyone that would have believed it if not for the documentary.”

“Now I understand why he was blowing up our phones,” Jeff murmured.

But Eddie stayed silent. He tapped out a message on his phone.

-I’m sorry I scared you. But after seeing the doc, I don’t think I could have avoided meeting him if I wanted to.

A brief moment passed before Eddie got a response.

-I’m starting to get that, yeah. I’m so glad you got out of there, you have no idea.

Eddie sighed and laid down on the bed. The rest of the band cuddled around him.

-Looks like Corroded Coffin is avoiding Austin for a while.

Steve message was almost instantaneous.

-I’m sorry sunshine. I’m sorry he picked you.

Eddie shook and Gareth pulled him closer.

-I’m glad you reached out. How did you find out about it anyway?

-Gareth’s ig auto updates his location so fans know where you guys are if you guys are down to party

Eddie kissed Gareth hard on the top of his head. “You absolute menace! I love you!”

Gareth looked up at him confused. “What did I do?”

“Steve found out where we were because your god damn Instagram!” Eddie kissed his head again.

Gareth’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? Mine or CCofficial?”

Eddie asked.

-CCofficial, but it’s the worst kept secret that it’s Gareth that runs it.

“He says official,” he told the band.

Jeff sat up and pulled out his phone. He began searching through the millions of followers on their official Instagram. “Holy shit, guys. He’s been following us for as long as we’ve had ig account.”

Brian shrugged. “We all know he’s a fan. So what if he’s been our fan since the beginning?”

The rest of them thought about that for a minute and then shrugged.

-Good to know

-Me and the boys are all in my hotel room and going to sleep now

Steve sent back a message

-Sweet dreams, and let me know when you’re on your way out of town

-Will do, babydoll

Eddie set his phone on the nightstand and snuggled up with his band. It had been a couple of years since they had to do this, but they all knew they would sleep better together than apart.

One by one the boys dropped off until it was just Eddie watching over the men that had become his family. The Munsons had always run thin aground on the genetic department, but Eddie had found his family as surely as god made them.

***

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Text

Fireleaf (Part Twenty-One)

Hiiii! Hope you’re all well! Sorry this one took a bit longer to get out. This week has been a mad one, and this is another long-awaited chapter that @greeneyedivy and I have been discussing for agessss, so I wanted to get it just right! We hope you enjoy! 🫶🏻

Warnings: Violence. Bit of blood and gore.

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The old orchard — that was where Lucien and Tamlin would meet them. Once a place that held memories of boyhood. Chasing each other amongst the trees, the air tinged with the sticky-sweet smell of apples. Eris didn’t feel quite so light as he once had. And the air — the air now smelled like—

The oldest Vanserra came to an abrupt stop, his entire body turning horribly, deathly cold.

Smoke was swallowing up the horizon.

Black, rippling smoke as thick as fog, commanding the sky and painting it night-dark.

There was only one place that that smoke could possibly be pouring from.

“No.” Eris breathed — barely. “Mother above, no.”

Linden slowed to a stop beside him, clutching hard at his horse’s reins. “What the—”

“That’s the manor. That’s…you need to go. Quickly. Now.”

“But—”

“Listen to me. Lucien sent Y/N back to the manor to wait things out with our mother. There’s a chance they’re in there.”

Something fierce and feral sparked in Linden’s dark gaze. Horrific understanding passed between them, left unspoken.

“I’ll go get Lucien.” Eris announced.

Linden merely nodded, digging his heels into his horse’s sides and taking off without a word.

Smoke. Fire. Eris could barely keep up with the thunderous pace of his thoughts. What had his father done? What had he finally, finally done?

The old orchard wasn’t far from here. Lucien and Tamlin would be winnowing there any minute. Would see the smoke—

He reached the orchard at lightning speed, the fact that he’d arrived first the only small mercy. He needed to be there for his brother, to calm him, to…to brace him. For whatever they were walking into. Perhaps not walking out of.

Eris strode through the lining of trees, leaving his horse grazing behind him. There was barely a breath between him passing through the leafy archway, and Lucien and Tamlin appearing out of nowhere.

Lucien didn’t need to glimpse the smoke eating up the sky. He need only take one look at Eris’s ashen face to know.

“What.” Was all the younger brother managed to gasp out. Even Tamlin had paled beside him.

“Fire.” Eris shook his head, somewhat dazed. “I—I think he’s set the godsdamn place on fire.”

Those words were all it took for the three of them to become nothing but a smoke-choked breeze as they winnowed straight home.

What had once been their home.

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Lucien stumbled to a stop on the front lawn. The place was…chaos.

For a split second, it was all he could do to gawk up at the manor, now completely engulfed. Great, evil flames seemed to spit from every direction, reaching up and out. His eyes scanned the lawn — dotted with servants and staff who had escaped — in search of Y/N. Just one glimpse to know she was okay.

He could find none.

The stifling heat, the churning smoke…it was too much. Too much. He couldn’t think.

“Mother.” Eris yelled from behind him.

Lucien spun around to find his brother running towards Catrin, sat up and hunched over on the lawn, blood dried to her head and face, a maidservant at her side. His legs were suddenly moving him in the same direction. He’d told Y/N to stay with Catrin—surely…surely she would know where she might be.

“What happened?” Eris dropped to his knees, gently grasping their mother’s face and tilting it up.

“The place just…caught fire.” The maidservant answered for her. “The Lady wasn’t inside. Nor the High Lord. He came running in to help us, get us all out. I overheard someone saying this is payback — from the villagers.

“Where is Y/N.” Lucien said too quietly. None of them seemed to hear him.

“And where is the High Lord now?” Eris asked.

“Where,” Lucien repeated, louder, “is Y/N?”

Only then did Catrin look up — as though the mention of the female had reminded her of her existence. She blinked up at her son. “I…I don’t know. Your father sent me to the market. I came back to find the place on fire. He—”

Lucien didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the sentence. He had no control over the noise of utter despair that broke from his throat. Nor over the way his legs began to carry him in a sprint, towards the heart of the smoke and the heat that breathed out at him. He would go into that blaze — would run through flames to find her.

But he only made it to the bottom step at the front of the manor when a figure came stumbling out of the door, hauling something — someone — with him.

He saw nothing — nothing — besides the limp body of his mate. Not the strong, muscled male that carried her out of the building or the destruction that they escaped from. How close the flames were to claiming them.

His legs threatened to give out from beneath him as he tripped up those steps and collapsed at the same time that the male — Linden — gently laid Y/N down on the front veranda, before he could no longer hold off the coughs that were choking him.

“Y/N?” With trembling hands, Lucien gently turned her face, his palms becoming coated with blood. Nothing. Not a flinch. “Y/N?”

No, no, no. He tugged on that golden cord between them, their bond, begged for her tug back. But she was so limp, so still—

Lucien didn’t even realise the screaming was coming from him until heads began to turn in his direction. And then Tamlin was running over. Eris, too, with Catrin clinging to him.

“She’s alive.” Linden panted around his coughs. “She’s—she’s alive. Her head—”

“Somebody get a healer, now!” Lucien bellowed, the words tumbling into sobs. He paid no mind to the chaos around him as he clutched Y/N to him, resting her bloodied head in his lap. “My love. My love. Open your damn eyes.”

A strong hand touched his shoulder. “A healer is coming, Lucien.” Tamlin. “We need to move Y/N out of the way so the fire can be dealt with.”

No words were making sense. He couldn’t move, could do nothing but cling to her and cry.

“Come, brother.” Eris said gently. He reached for Y/N, pausing at the growl that ripped from Lucien’s throat. “…no one’s going to hurt her, Lucien. We need to help her.”

Yes, somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew that. He forced himself to push to his feet, not once letting go of his mate, even as his body tried to buckle and fall.

They could barely withstand the heat that pulsed out at them. And from inside — popping and creaking. Wood was starting to give way.

Catrin hovered beside Lucien as he stumbled down the steps, just able to lay Y/N down on the lawn before he collapsed once more. And still he didn’t let go. Didn’t acknowledge anything but the female — his love — in his arms, even as people began arriving, the thunderous clopping of horses’ hooves growing closer and closer. Some to help heal, others to help with the fire.

Eris turned to Linden, studying every inch of the male for any sign of injury. “…were—are there any casualties?”

Linden’s face was grave as he gave a single nod. “A couple of maids I couldn’t save.”

“Did you see the High Lord?” Eris had studied the chaos once, twice, three times, searching for any glimpse of his father. His father, who had allegedly run towards the danger to help.

He’d found none.

Linden shook his head. “The High Lord isn’t in there. I can tell you that for certain.”

And if he wasn’t in there and wasn’t out here—

He’d set the fire. Played the hero. And got far, far away before anyone could find him.

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It was like waking up with a mouthful of ash, so painfully arid that you choked around the sensation. You couldn’t get enough air down, couldn’t godsdamn breathe. You lifted a hand, clawing at your throat as though the action would somehow help you—

“Oh no you don’t.” A cold, withered hand enclosed around yours, tugging it away from the assault it was committing. “Don’t add to the injuries you already have, girl.”

Your eyes flew open. You didn’t know that voice, and the unfamiliarity frightened you. Your gaze found nothing but a canvas ceiling above you. A tent — a healer’s tent. The air was unbearably thick, stung with the smell of smoke and burning.

“What—” you tried to speak; it only served to bring about another outburst of coughs, and they were painful, splintering through your body like shards of glass. You tried again, weakly, “what happened?”

“The manor caught fire.” The healer stopped at your bedside; a severe-looking woman who reminded you of your old school mistress. “The worst of your injuries is the gash on your head. I’m assuming you were hit by something falling in the fire.”

You stared back at her as though she’d spoken in a foreign tongue. And like the mention of your injury brought your memories to the surface, you were pelted with images in your brain; flashes of the last thing you remembered. Beron dragging you into a room, the two of you exchanging sharp words, him grabbing you by the throat and lifting something above your head—

And then blackness.

And then…what? He’d set the manor on fire?

He’d actually tried to kill you. Had actually crossed that line.

“It’s alright if you can’t remember.” The healer patted your hand. “All you need to focus on, now, is recovering.”

Indeed, the ache that was rapidly beginning to rip through your head was almost unbearable. There were so many things you wanted to think of, to ask, and yet the only thing that stopped you screaming in pain was closing your eyes. You lay still, trying to ignore the panic that was rising in you.

“I’m going to fetch some more supplies. A tonic that will help with that pain.” The healer announced. “Do not move.”

There was no danger of that. You could barely breathe without the ache worsening.

And yet, as you listened to the sounds of the healer pushing out of the tent flaps, and the deep lull of an approaching voice, you found yourself on high alert. All you knew was that you were in a healer’s tent — still closeby to whatever wreck the manor was in, going by the smells in the air and the sounds; dripping water and hissing cinders. But…nothing else. You knew nothing of what might exist — or not — outside of that tent.

“I need to get some more supplies.” The healer repeated to somebody. “You’ll need to stand guard and make sure that nobody tries to enter. I won’t be long.”

“Of course.” A male voice responded — Eris. “...how is she? Will she—will she be alright?”

“She’s regaining consciousness. Although, I wager she’ll want to be knocked right back out, with the headache she’s bound to have. The most severe injury is the wound to her head. But yes, she’ll be fine. Provided that your brother doesn’t bother her when he wakes.”

“I’m sorry,” Eris said. “Truly. I apologise, on his behalf, for his rudeness. He’ll be mortified. He’s just…she’s his mate. He thought she…”

The words trailed off, but you didn’t need Eris to finish the sentence to know what he was thinking. Which meant Lucien was here…somewhere. Lucien had seen you, the state you’d been found in, and had assumed the worst. The thought made your heart twist inside your chest. You wanted to get up, to find him, but you couldn’t make your body move.

“Believe me, boy, I understand.” The healer said. “But if he causes another scene, I’ll have no problem sedating him again. His mate cannot heal while he screams and cries outside the tent.”

He’d done that? How had you not woken up? You must have been out cold. The thought of him crying out for you, and you not responding—

You sunk further down into the cot, wincing at your worsening headache. So much, too much, had happened too fast. And if Beron had set fire to the manor in his attempts to wipe you out, had he harmed others? Staff and servants and Catrin…

You forced your eyes open. Tried to push yourself up. You needed to find out the breadth of the destruction for yourself — damn resting and healing.

But movement limned your periphery, and turning your head, grasping the figure that had appeared out of air and shadow, had every part of you locking up.

It was as though the mere thought of Beron had summoned him. He stood a mere few strides away, studying you with what you could only assume was uncontainable rage.

Because he’d failed. He’d tried to get rid of you — his little problem — and he’d failed.

Was he here to make another attempt? The crazed flash in his eyes made it seem like a distinct possibility. You weakly tried to move back, tried to open your mouth and scream—

“I wouldn’t bother.” He said. “I’ve cast a silencing glamour.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A pathetic whimper was the only sound you could produce as you tried to push up onto your elbows.

“You’re not an easy person to get rid of, I’ll grant you that.” The High Lord strode closer, stopping just beside the cot. That smell of smoke and fire grew stronger, almost suffocating you as he lowered a hand and pushed you down into the hard mattress. “Shh, shh. There’s no need to make a fuss.”

“Get the fuck away from me.” You choked. You resented the tears that sprung in your eyes, but you were so weak, so defeated. You wouldn’t be able to fight anymore, not like this.

Beron had the power. Had always had the power, and the control. And now he would exact it, and Lucien’s worst fears would come true. There would be no future, no other side to this nightmare. You’d be one of many killings Beron Vanserra had made — and would make — in his reign as High Lord. You would be a name one day forgotten.

And your father would have to live with the fact that he’d contributed to that. That he’d mixed you up in all of this. Your blood was as much on his hands as it was on Beron’s. Had your mother known, also? What would your sisters think? Would they miss you? Was Willow still alive to miss you, after whatever had happened in Rask?

“You know, Y/N,” Beron’s hand moved up, up to your neck, the skin still sore from his last assault, “despite the bad feeling between us, do not think that I don’t admire your efforts. Truly, I do. You have a rare determination.” Dirt-crusted nails grazed your skin. “You would even have fit well amongst my courtiers, if you’d played on the right side of the game. But alas, you were hindered by weaknesses. Morals and conscience. As you can probably tell, I despise both.”

“You’re incapable of both.” You spat.

His lips twitched. “You’re not wrong. And you’re incapable of keeping your mouth shut. Your father sent you here to marry my son and be a quiet, docile female like your air-headed sisters. Such a shame that you couldn’t honour that arrangement. Instead, you had to go snooping in my business and fooling around with the wrong son. Lucien—”

“Lucien,” you cut him off through gritted teeth, “is my mate. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

His face flickered. Darkened. And gods, it became abundantly clear how viscerally he hated such a fact. Lucien was your mate. You were his. A bond even Beron couldn’t overrule—

“No, you’re right.” His mouth lifted into a sneer. “I cannot change that such a bond exists between you. Even I don’t have that power.” His fingertips dug in, just slightly, to the skin of your throat. “But the issue, dear Y/N, is not whether or not my son is your mate. The issue is that you are his. That as long as you are around, you pose a threat to me. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“That you can burn all the evidence you want, but you still have a great many people who know who — what — you are, and what you’ve done—”

Your words fell short as he grabbed your neck in an ironclad grip and squeezed. “And you’re the loudest of them all. Like a damn wasp that won’t stop buzzing around and getting in my way. A silly little girl who thinks she’s smart enough to play my games and not receive the consequences.”

He squeezed tighter, tighter, and you were thrashing, your pain taking a backseat as you fought to claw at his hands.

“But do not worry, little wasp.” He barely budged through your pathetic fighting. The air was leaching from you, try as you might to gasp. Your head pounded, your vision faltering— “Your death will not be in vain. It’ll send a message to anyone who’s willing to try crossing me. They won’t win. You. Will. Not—

It all happened so fast. So, so fast.

For a split second, you were aware of nothing but the relief of being able to breathe. Swallowing huge gulps of air and—

Something else. Something else sprayed your face, coated your tongue. Warm and metallic. Beron’s eyes widened, a gruff noise huffing from his throat. He was gasping, just as you had been gasping, gurgling…

And then slumping over. He collapsed forward, his body toppling onto you, hot, sticky blood immediately soaking through the sheet, your clothes, covering your skin.

And behind him stood Eris. Eris, holding a blood-soaked sword. Eris, who was wide-eyed and trembling.

Who had just stabbed his father through the heart. Who had just killed the High Lord.

The sword fell from Eris’s hand, clattering to the ground. He opened and closed his mouth, not a single word escaping his lips. His skin had turned so incredibly pale.

You didn’t know how he’d found out about Beron being in here. Whether it had just been a sheer fluke…whether he…you didn’t know, couldn’t think.

All you did know was that Beron Vanserra was bleeding out on top of you. A deathly pallor had already taken over his face. His blood was warm, and you were cold, and—

You screamed. Screamed to the high heavens. Your throat felt like it had been sliced to ribbons, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself screaming, couldn’t stop your weak body trying to push Beron off of you.

“Gethimoffgethimoffgethimoff—” You screeched. Cried. Sobbed. You were soaked with blood, and in pain, and—

Eris seemed to jerk into action. He blinked out of his shock, lugging Beron away from you. The High Lord slumped to the floor. And didn’t move.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” Eris was pulling you to him, his own body trembling so hard, he couldn’t keep hold of you. He didn’t stop you as you leaned over the side of the bed and vomited through your sobs, spitting blood onto the floor.

And what had happened…what Eris had done…it must have severed the silencing glamour that Beron had cast. Your screams and cries must have been heard for miles and miles. You were vaguely aware of people pushing into the tent, a frenzied panic filling the small space. There were voices, their volumes raising as their owners beheld what was in front of them.

“...He’s dead...” Someone spoke. The voice was familiar, warm and comforting, but you couldn’t place it. “The High Lord is dead.”

You passed out again before you could hear anything else.

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The daylight was weak and watery, pouring into the tent in dull hues of grey.

But you would not let the healer — Ornella, her name was — close the entry flaps. Even as the rain came, pouring down and making the view even bleaker.

Not that it could get much bleaker than the burned and sodden ruins of the Vanserra manor. But...you needed to look. To remind yourself of what had happened.

There had been no brief moment of clarity upon awakening. It had been the early hours of the morning, and you’d jerked into a sitting position, despite every part of your body protesting the movement. You’d checked for the pool of blood that was soaking you, the dead body of the High Lord on the floor—

All you’d found was a clean bed shift covering your body. No traces of what had happened. No body and not a single speck of blood. And at the end of your bed — your mate. Lucien had been waiting for you to wake up.

He’d held you while you’d cried. Rocked you and stroked your hair and promised you that never, ever would Beron be able to hurt you again. And when your exhausted body had begun to weaken again, your eyes growing heavy once more, he’d laid you down and held you. Stayed with you while you slept.

He was catching up on his sleep, now. The cot was too small for the two of you to sprawl out, so he’d curled himself up in a chair by your bed. His hand was still in yours, his breathing deep and even. His braid hung down by his face, and you reached out, pressing it between your fingers.

There was too much to think about.

Eris…Eris had killed Beron. The High Lord of the Autumn Court was dead. He’d killed him to save your life, and now he…he would be High Lord.

“He hasn’t left your side once since he managed to get in here.”

You jumped at the intrusion of a deep, smoky voice. A voice you knew by heart. The lingering accent of a Montesere native who had spent a long, long time away from home. Your heart skipped a bit in your chest.

You sat up — and there, in the entrance, stood Linden.

Just as you remembered him. His wonderful face and sure, confident figure. The warmth of his eyes. His braids.

You opened your mouth to say…something. But it was only a strangled cry that came out.

Lucien was immediately jolting awake, throwing himself in front of you and looking around for a potential threat. Linden snorted softly.

“Down, boy.” He said to your mate, a lick of fondness in his tone. “It’s just me.”

Lucien relaxed, turning to face you. His hands gripped your face, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Calm, my fireling. You’re still healing.”

Linden strolled further into the room, a smirk on his lips. “Am I truly so hideous that you cry upon seeing me?”

“I’m happy, you ass.” You managed to choke — causing both males to laugh. “I’ve missed you.”

Your friend’s face softened. “And I’ve missed you.” He perched on the end of the cot. “How are you feeling?”

“...Shocked, I suppose. Sore. I can’t…is the High Lord really…”

“He’s dead.” Lucien answered coldly. “And may he burn in hell for eternity.”

Indeed. It seemed his father’s death didn’t aggrieve him in the slightest. Nothing but fury — laced with hard satisfaction — lay on his face. He turned that face to you, his eyes immediately softening.

“If Eris hadn’t killed him,” he said, “I would have done so myself.”

“And I would have damn well helped.” Linden added.

You stared between them; knew they both meant the declaration without a lick of doubt. Not just for your sake, but the sakes, also, of everyone who had ever been caught up in Beron’s games.

“The fire…” you breathed, the thought suddenly dawning on you. “Was anyone hurt? Catrin…”

“My mother wasn’t in there, thankfully.” Lucien brushed your hair out of your face. “But there were a couple of maids who sadly perished.”

“I wasn’t able to save them.” Linden’s voice quietened. “I couldn’t…once I’d gotten you out, it was too dangerous to go back—”

“You did everything you could.” Lucien cut him off softly, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. “My father is to blame, not you. We’ll be having a memorial service for the lives lost, later on today.”

Linden nodded…but you could see the regret and agony in his eyes. That this was a burden that nobody’s reassurances could lighten. You wished there was something you could do, some way to help.

“What of Eris?” You asked, sitting up. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

“He and my mother are getting settled into the Roselands — another Vanserra residence. It’s where we’ll be staying while the manor is rebuilt. He is…understandably shocked. He doesn’t regret what he did, but…he’s High Lord now. It’s a lot for him to take in.”

Of course it was. And he’d saved your life without thinking twice about it. You wished you could talk to him, thank him, hug him. “And Willow? Dion?” You stared at your mate, trying to tamp down on your panic.

“Are both fine.” He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. “No harm came to them. They returned from Rask without so much as a scratch. Barric fled — I’m assuming when he heard about my father. And Jareth and Rian are being detained and interrogated. Whatever punishment Eris decides to mete out will be well-deserved.”

“Agreed.” Linden said. He reached out, clasping your leg. “But none of these things are for you to worry about right now. You should focus on recovering.”

You couldn’t suppress a small smile, your heart pinching at his words. Nothing had changed. He was still the same caring, fussing mother hen that you loved so much. You clasped your hands on his and squeezed.

“...How about I fetch some food?” Lucien slowly let go of you. “Give you two a chance to catch up. You must be starving.”

You were — but you knew it was ruse for him to give you and your friend some time to talk alone. You smiled gratefully up at him. “Don’t be too long.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’ll be back before you know it. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

With a smile of pure elation, he turned and pushed out of the tent, his hair providing a little bit of colour to the grey landscape.

And then it was just you and Linden. Your friend through so much. Someone who truly did love you unconditionally.

“Oh,” he smiled wickedly, “the two of you are positively sickening.”

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You spent the day catching up with Linden, just…just glad to be back by his side. Even if the general mood was a solemn one, and the mark that Beron had left hung over all of your heads, it was just a comfort to have him in your company again. Lucien, too. The two of them hovered around you so much that Ornella eventually had to order them out so that she could see to your head wound and pour tonics down your throat.

She was insistent that you get more sleep, but…as the day faded into a murky evening, you knew that people were beginning to venture from all over the court for the memorial service. And you wanted to go, too.

So you’d climbed the hill on which the many gathered, Lucien and Linden supporting you at your sides. Catrin was already waiting at the top, along with Dion and Willow and staff and servants and their families that had also come. Tamlin, too, stood in the circle, staring at the faelights that lit up the hilltop.

But no Eris. Eris was nowhere to be found.

As soon as Catrin’s warm eyes fell on you, they filled with tears. Of love…of relief…you weren’t sure. But she reached out for you, pulling you into her side. She wrapped her arms around you, as though shielding you from the brisk night air, and pressed a kiss to your head. And Dion and Willow joined, too, their scents mingling as they embraced you.

Linden came to a stop at your other side, but Lucien — Lucien stepped into the centre of the circle, amongst the flickering faelights. You knew, immediately, that he was stepping in for Eris. His hair moved gently with the breeze as he bowed his head, and silence fell amongst the gathering of people. You could only watch.

“We gather here, this eve, to commemorate Rowara and Shea — two kind, hard working females who should still be here with us. With their families.” Lucien spoke clearly, his words answered by a pained sob amongst the people. No mention of Beron, and rightfully so. “Cauldron save you. Mother hold you. Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain.”

There were murmurings — an echo of the prayer, similar sentiments breathed through cries and whispers. And you watched, tears forming in your own eyes, as magic lifted the faelights into the skies on a phantom wind, like souls floating off to a better place.

“They are gone, but they will never, ever be lost to memory.” Lucien said, and repeated, “Fear no evil. Feel no pain.”

The words were spoken back to him, a chorus of many different tones and pitches, all bound together in the same, slicing pain that they each felt.

Lucien stepped back, and Linden made room for him. And in nothing but a heavy, eerie silence, everybody watched. Watched those faelights float and disappear into the distance.

You stood there as night swept in. Stood there as the temperature dropped, biting at your skin. And as people began to descend the hill once more, you still stood, held by both Catrin and Lucien. You wished Eris was here. Wish he could feel their embrace, too.

Finally, you loosened your arms, straightening yourself out. You wiped your eyes as you turned to Catrin. “Why did Eris not come?”

“He couldn’t face it just yet.” She gently clasped your cheek. “He stayed behind, at Roselands.”

You needed to see him, to talk to him. You turned to Lucien, your determination the only thing keeping your tired eyes peeled. “Will you take me there?”

“Aren’t you ready to rest?” Lucien tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You look exhausted. You’ll see Eris soon—”

You shook your head. “Please. Just—please. He saved my life. He did…what he did, for me. I need to see him.”

It was only a second longer that he studied you, before he nodded and took your hand in his, winnowing you off that hilltop. And as you ripped through air and nothingness, you didn’t care that you were tired and freezing cold. You needed to see him. Your friend. Your brother.

The two of you staggered to a stop on the gravel front of a much smaller residence — though still large. And the sea of different-coloured roses was where, you supposed, the house had got its name from.

The place was quiet and in darkness, but you could almost feel pain pulsing out of it. Bleakness.

You turned to Lucien at the front steps, and he seemed to just know what you needed without you saying a word.

“Just tug on the bond, when you’re ready.” He said, and you felt the strange sensation of a cord being pulled, deep in your gut. “I’ll come get you.”

You nodded, pushing up on your toes to kiss him. And then he was gone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･

No lights had been lit indoors.

You felt strangely bare and vulnerable as you slowly made your way through the house, searching for Eris. You weren’t sure where he might be; asleep in bed, or drowning his sorrows, or—

It was on the second floor, down a narrow corridor, that you heard a splash of water come from a room at the very end. Its door was cracked open, and a sliver of dim lighting peeked out. You strode over slowly, raising your hand to gently rap on the door.

“Eris?” You called.

A pause, and then another ripple of moving water. A raw, rough voice called out to you. “In here.”

It was permission enough, you pushed your way in, your eyes immediately landing on the bathtub. Eris sat within it, hunched over, his knees pulled into his chest, his chin resting atop of them. His hair hung limply around him.

He looked…haunted. Tortured.

You used the single, winking faelight in the corner to guide you across the room, until you were coming to a stop beside the tub. Beside Eris’s hunched body.

“Hey…” You whispered, kneeling down.

He shook, shivered, and you dipped your hand into the water — still pretty warm. And yet goosebumps covered his skin. Goosebumps and—

And scars. All over. Some big, some small. Some a silver-white, others pinker, newer. And three great, old scars that crossed his back. Faded with age, and yet still clear as day. The scars of a lashing, with a whip or a rope, or…something. Something barbarous. It knotted your stomach as your eyes caught on them.

“He did that to me when I was just a boy.” Eris croaked. You didn’t need to ask to know he was talking about Beron. “He’d taken me with him into a village he was visiting, and I shared my food with a boy there. When we got home, he made an example of me. I couldn’t move for three days after.”

You flinched, slowly raising a hand to brush your fingers over those scars. He seemed to tense for a split second at the contact, and then relaxed, exhaling a shaky breath as you gently traced his skin.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “For all that he did to you. I’m so sorry.”

You knew, from the way his shoulders shuddered, that he’d choked out a silent sob. And you didn’t know how to help him, what to say. There was nothing, no words, that could possibly make any of this better.

“Eris, I…what you did for me…” You swallowed. “I would have died if not for you. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“I’d never expect you to.”

No, he wouldn’t. You knew that. Because he was good; the complete opposite of his father. A true High Lord.

But right now…right now, titles were the least important thing. Because he seemed so small, so vulnerable, curled up like that. Like a scared, lonely child.

You couldn’t bear it.

You needed him to know that you were here with him. Would always be.

You reached to the side of the bath for a washcloth, and Eris made no protest as you dipped it into the water, lathered it with soap, and began gently washing his skin with it. He was still covered in blood and dirt; still marked by the events that had passed.

But you cleaned every bit of it away, and he let you. There was no awkwardness or embarrassment. You were taking care of him, and though he trembled and cried and curled in tight, he allowed it. Appreciated it.

You washed his hair, massaged his head, kneaded his shoulder muscles. And when you moved down to clean his hands, to scrub the dirt and grime away from his nails, only then did he grab hold of you. Your eyes shot to his to find them already staring at you.

“I’d do it again.” He rasped, the bleakness in his eyes utterly heartbreaking. “I—I would. A thousand times over.”

“I know.” You whispered.

Tears spilled over, rolling down his cheeks. “I killed him.”

Your eyes shuttered. “I know.”

“How—how am I supposed to be a High Lord, Y/N? How can I—”

“Hey.” You cut him off. Allowed the washcloth to drop into the water as you grasped his face in both of your hands and forced him to look at you. “You have always been a High Lord, Eris. Always. Because you’ve always been what a High Lord should be. Your father is — was — an abomination. But you…you are kind. You’re noble and real and honest and thoughtful. You fight for what’s right. You’re good. And I will be honoured to call you my High Lord. Even more so to call you my brother.”

He stared at you, that last little tether on his emotions snapping. It all began hitting him full-force, and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a small sob.

“But none of that needs to matter right now,” you continued quietly. “It does not need to matter now, or tomorrow, or next week, or the week after that. It can matter whenever you’re ready. Because right now, you’re just Eris. You’re my friend, and my brother, and I love you. And I will forever be thankful for what you did for me.”

Pressing his forehead against the lip of the tub, Eris cried. You soothed him through it. Stroked his hair and held his hand. Let him know that you were there, and always would be. Not his subject or courtier. Not a pawn in a game. A friend — a true one.

It seemed like hours before his sobs lessened into the occasional snivel. But you didn’t force him to speak or move before he was ready.

The water turned from lukewarm to cold, and finally he looked up at you through red-rimmed eyes.

“Thank you for coming.” He whispered. It was clear that the act of crying, of being soothed, had lessened some of the weight on his shoulders. He was a little bit brighter as he reached out and tugged your braid once. “I love you, too.”

“Thank you for coming.” You murmured back. “I wouldn’t still be here if you hadn’t.”

“Life would be very, very boring without my favourite little shit around.”

You gaped at him — and then smiled. And it felt good to do so. Even better as he gave a quiet laugh.

You joined in, the laughter a little hollow, a little strained, but still there. And when Eris relaxed once more, he was still smiling. Somewhat.

“...are you alright?” You asked him.

His eyes met yours. “Better now. After being bathed by you.”

So he wasn’t too upset to tease. You rolled your eyes, but nothing besides relief filled you as you pushed to your feet. “Don’t get used to it. This is a one-time thing.”

“Shame. Are you leaving?”

“Just to get you a towel.”

You stepped forward — but his hand was grasping yours again. Stopping you. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Seriously…thank you.” He swallowed. “Thank you for coming here. I…it was you I needed to see.”

You dipped your chin, shoving down the emotion that climbed up your throat. “Of course.”

With a soft smile, he squeezed your hand once and let go. You strode over to the door in search of a towel—

“Y/N?” He called after you.

You turned again…and the slight glint in his eyes told you that the Eris you knew and loved still lurked beneath the pain somewhere.

“I promise not to tell Lucien about you ogling my cock.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

lucien tags: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonashes @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95 @draguta @pee-stachio @rem-ie

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cloginthedrain · 10 months

Text

rooftops and vigilantes (part two) (matt murdock x reader)

summary: reader pays matt a visit at his office, and matt invites himself over. banter and flirtations ensue.

masterlist | previous | next

word count: 1169

notes: lots of banter, back and forth, and flirting. reader gets a little too confident. a bit of a shorter one, but only slightly. hope you like it, i do!!! i've really appreciated a lot of the lovely comments and support. i've been having a lot of fun writing this one.

comments & reblogs always appreciated! <3

—

You stand in front of the smudgy, glass door, and take a shaky breath.

Once you’ve mustered enough courage, you push the door open to the coffee shop, chest fluttering with excitement at the possibility of just seeing Matt. Built, rugged, but put together.

You approach the coffee bar, your usual guilty pleasure before your grocery run.

“Your usual?” Ellie muses, all smiles. Penning your name, this time with a winky face. Your eyes narrowed.

“Please,” you say graciously. You fumble in your hellish bag for the familiar feeling of your beat up, pleather wallet amongst the mess of your bag: apartment keys, wired earbuds, chapstick, lotion, and your expired lip tint. You might’ve left it behind.��

“No, that’s okay.”

“Ellie. I’m paying,” you say firmly.

She grins. “No, what I mean is that Matt’s got it.”

“Matt?” You flush, shifting your weight. Your limbs suddenly feel heavy.

“Yes, Matt, he stopped by,” Ellie starts, a gleam of (obnoxious) curiosity in her eyes. “He said thanks for the whiskey. Whatever that means. You just missed him.”

Your features soften. Last night, sewing kits. Whiskey. Rugged, shirtless, sweaty. Late night, and hell, an early morning.

“Right,” you said. “Can I have that to go?”

“He got you this too.” Ellie places one of her freshly-baked crumbly raspberry lemon muffins on the counter.

You flush beet-red. Horrific.

You dodge further interrogation from your favorite nosy barista by excusing yourself to your booth to wait for your drink. You’re yet again rummaging in your bag, this time for a book to pretend to read. To no avail, you had left it on your bed-side table.

Chairs were still upturned onto the tables, warm lights illuminating the café. You practically run out of there, with your raspberry lemon muffin to go, as soon as your dirty chai hits the bar counter.

Your eye glimmers as soon as you step out. Across the street, a shiny metal plaque reads:

Nelson and Murdock. Attorneys at Law.

You figured some time to kill before you had to head back to hold your virtual discussion for a survey course in English Romanticism.

You languidly climb the steps, exhausted from the night before, and pushed the door open. You took in the poorly-lit room. A prim, freckled blonde woman clacking away at her laptop.

She looks up from her work with a soft, perfectly cordial smile. “How can I help you?”

“Uhm,” you interrupt, shyly. “I’m here to see Matt?”

“Oh, Matt? He should be here soon.”

The door slams behind you.

“He’s right here.” His hearty chuckle is unmistakable, one you could grow quite partial to.

“Right,” the blonde woman starts. “This is, erm—“ She stops short. She hadn’t gotten your name.

“Y/N,” Matt finishes. “Y/N, this is Karen. Our receptionist.”

“Nice to meet you, Karen,” You barely manage. The verbal thing comes and goes. Especially in the intimidating presence of a man, Matt, in a well-fitting suit. You never accounted for that in your streak of confidence. “Just came by to thank you for the muffin. And the chai. And for leaving me defenseless against our nosy, mutual barista. I, uh, saw your sign outside.”

As you’re blabbering you wonder if you crossed a line, coming into his work. The ball is in your court, right?

“Right,” He refoots. “I heard you’re partial to a raspberry lemon muffin.”

“Something like that,” you say. You sense some awkwardness. “Anyway, I’ll go. Thanks again.”

You turn to leave.

“Wait,” Matt starts.

If it was possible, your ears perked up. “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you tonight?”

You pretend to think for a moment, but not for a second more— trying to play it cool. You fail.

“You bet,” you practically beam.

As soon as you leave, Foggy stumbles past you through the door.

“Hey Froggy,” you say kindly, not noticing your mistake.

He turns his head to do a double-take as you walk out of the building. “Hey?”

Once he’s in the office, false-outraged, Foggy asks accusingly, “Matt, who was that?”

—

You did see him that night.

“Maybe you're not a vigilante,” you muse, admittedly a little wine drunk. “You’re a criminal. You’re robbing me, depriving me of my sleep.”

You’re sitting on the couch, legs across Matt’s lap, cradling a glass of wine. Student papers long discarded across your coffee table. You’re looser, a bit daring. You’re wearing your comfiest pair of sweats, heat be damned. Air-conditioning blasting.

“Right, I’m depriving you,” Matt laughs, further encouraging your antics. “You sure it’s not the deadlines you have to meet to sift through hundreds of student papers?” He’d also add guzzling insane amounts of caffeine factored into it.

“Nope, and I’m prepared to make my case.”

“You realize who you’re talking to?”

“I have a leg to stand on,” you proclaim, particularly audacious. You sit up. “I was an English major.”

“Meaning?”

“I also know how to argue,” you slur, tilting your head. A challenge.

Your face inched close enough that you felt his breath, short, tickle your skin. Saw the shadow of his stubble. His plump pink lips.

You lost any sort of nerve right then.

“Let’s get you some coffee, sweetheart,” Matt redirects, and then as an aside, says to himself, “Or get you to bed.”

—

You were horrified the next morning. You wanted to sink further into your bed, to be swallowed under your covers.

You had woken up late. 10 am. A ceremonious first.

A god awful headache too. Being taken with a night owl had its consequences.

You reach for your phone, and magically it's connected to the charger. Phone battery green, 100%. You peek at the notifications.

A missed call. Could be work, you reason. Blah.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Matt.

“Blegh, stop that,” you groan. “How’d you get my number anyway?”

You wish you could say you were surprised, but Matt’s been a recurring theme in your life as of, well, these past few weeks.

“I have my ways,” Matt pauses.

You don’t say anything, but roll your eyes so hard.

“Let’s just say you really wanted me to have your number last night,” Matt practically gloats.

“Awh jeez,” you cringe, sitting up. You had forgotten that part.

At this point, you’re upright, just barely, and in pursuit of some sort of caffeine. Then you remember.

“Nooooo,” you moan, helplessly, and you’re back in your bed.

“What?”

“Remember when I, uh, ambushed you at your office?”

“Vaguely.”

“Right, so I was supposed to go grocery shopping,” you babble. “There is nothing in the cupboards, including but especially coffee. There’s some decaf for my mom when she visits. I suppose I can try and microdose the trace amounts of caffeine… That’s a lot of coffee. Nothing I’m not used to—”

“Or, I can bring you coffee.”

“Oh, Matt, no—” you start. “I didn’t mean to suggest—”

“Already leaving.”

You slump further into your bed. “Suppose there’s no point in pretending that I’m not secretly pleased then.”

“Yep, see you soon, sweetheart."

The call clicks off, and you roll your eyes.

You really are pleased.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil x reader

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thisreadswhatever · 2 years

Text

The 401 Freeway

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 1.8k+

[summary]: what’s more boring then being stranded on the highway with jax teller?

[cw]: 18+ only, smut, car sex, pet names, public sex (kinda), overstimulation, possible grammar/spelling errors

[authors note]: this one shot is inspired by this request, thank you for sending it to me! not as angsty as i had wanted but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

“I told you that we could’ve rode there.” You rolled your eyes, looking straight over the steering wheel into the road ahead. You’d argued about driving your car before you’d even left for the weekend. Jax was always pushing you to ride his bike, but after your brother’s accident years ago, you swore you never would again. “You know how I feel about riding, Jax.”

“I know I know.” He placed a reassuring hand on your thigh. “But one of these days you’re gonna have to get it over with, babe. Cant be anymore dangerous than driving this piece of junk.” He rolled the recliner back, lifting his feet on the dashboard and settling his dirt stained nikes along window.

“It got us out of Charming for the weekend so I’d say it holds up pretty well.”

“Well I certainly can’t complain about the driver.” He was peering through his lowered sunglasses, smiling right at you. It was hard to be annoyed at him when he looked at you that way. “Feet off the dash, passenger.” You slapped his jeans, forcing his legs back into the footwell. “Yes ma’am.”

Your goal of driving out to the coast for the weekend, as nice as it had been, was just to get some time away from Gemma. She’d been hounding you ever since you and Jax got back together. He could only wear her down so much, and he knew it too, Gemma was relentless. Even with her pulling at your last nerves, it took a lot to convince Jax to leave for the weekend, let alone let you drive. Things had been heating up at the club for some time, dealings that you shouldn’t even know of we’re starting to get out of hand. Jax knew getaways probably weren’t the best idea, but you would do anything to have a few days away from his overbearing mother, including a few promises, that you had indeed kept, of some hot sex on the beach.

“It should only be a few hours till we’re back. Why don’t you drop it off at the clubhouse and Chibs can have a look at it. See if we can fix it up.” Like he was cursing it as he spoke, suddenly the engine gave way, and no matter how hard you pushed the pedals beneath your feet there was no give. “Shit shit shit!”, you slapped the steering wheel with your palms. You managed to curb the car alongside the road before it came to a complete halt.

“What did I just call this?” Jax was overtly amused by the timing. “A piece of junk? Oh yeah, that’s right.”

“Ugh!” You hopped out the car and slammed the door, kicking the tires with all your might. “Piece of shit. You couldn’t just wait to fall apart!” You walked towards the front of the car, to a horrific smell of burning and smoke bellowing out of the crevices. And then you kicked the bumper of the car a little more.

Jax was watching you from a distance, cigarette in hand, amused at your tantrum. “Jax this isn’t fucking funny! Look at us, we’re fucking stranded!” You folded your arms like a spoilt teenager and stumped yourself down against the passenger door. “Our weekends fucking ruined.”

Jax walked over and sat down beside you, smushing his right leg against yours. “Relax, babe.” He nudged your shoulder with his. “I called the guys. Piney will be coming to get us in a few hours. Hopefully tow this thing back to the junkyard.” You scoffed at him, “Perfect, more biker boys.” You stood up, and leaned against the hood of the car. “What’s so wrong with a biker boy?”, Jax called to you, almost inviting you in his tone. “How about their inability to love a classic set of four wheels.”

He laughed at you as he stood up, crushing his cigarette beneath his sneaker. “Well, I got an idea of how we can use this four wheel death trap while we wait for the ‘biker boys’.”

He pulled you further from the hood, up the side of the drivers door, slightly out of view from traffic. He knew you’d thank him for that later on. For now though, all you could think of was the trailing of his fingers under your jeans, gripping your ass above your thong. You could feel the cold metal of his rings against your skin as he kneaded your flesh. “I’ve been wanting to rip these jeans off you since you put them on this morning, babe.”

He felt so good on you, peeling you back layer by layer, which he knew so well. “Turn around for me.” You did what he asked, turning so your chest was against the driver door. “Is this how you want me, Jax?” He grabbed yours wrists in response, putting both above your head, securing them to the roof of the car with one hand. You felt sticky underneath the California sunset, pinned up against your car like the whole world wasn’t driving past. Yet knowing this only seemed to turn you on more. “This is how I want you. So fucking hot like this.” You pushed your ass into him as far as your body would allow, feeling his grip tighten around your wrists. feeling his hard cock between you and your jeans.

Your cheeks smushed against the window. Jax buried his face into your neck, leaving red marks along the nape as he bit into your flesh. He carried his free hand under your button down shirt, and down your navel to your waistband, undoing the button. You moaned into the window as he slid your jeans down, exposing your ass to the entire 401 freeway.

Jax dug his face through the hair covering your ear, “You are the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” As he tugged at the fabric that further down your thighs. You buckled at his words, “Please fuck me already, Jax.”

He groaned at your begging, “You want me to fuck you here? With all these cars watching?” His hand was now toying with your entrance beneath your thong, feeling your slick mounting at his words.

Your knees were grinding up the side of the car as your body tried to find relief in his grasp. “God yes, fucking take me, please, Jax.” He smiled at your desperation,

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

Jax moved your thong so your pussy was exposed, you could feel the cool air hit your warmth. He continued to kiss your neck while he undid the button to his jeans. Never letting go of your hands above your head, he pulled his length from his boxers and teased you with the tip, sliding his arousal along your entrance. You whimpered at this sensation, desperate with anticipation. “Please - fuck. Please.” He pushed himself into you, slowly filling you with every inch of his cock.

Your wrists felt like weights above your head, making it difficult as you tried to push your ass against his hips, eager to feel all of him.

“Look at you, taking me so nice on the highway. All these people watching you get fucked like the good girl you are.” You melted at the words, the feeling of every car looking at you while they drove past.

You were so exposed, so vulnerable, and so full up all at the same time. You whimpered as Jax repeatedly pelted you with thrust after thrust.

The only distraction from the fullness was the moving of his free hand grasping your hips, pulling you deeper into euphoria. Sounds began to leave your mouth as you burned from the heat radiating between your hips, you tried to bite your arm to stop from screaming.

“Don’t stop, baby girl. I want to hear you.”

You began to lose composure and your knees became weak, harder to hold yourself up against him. You were sure if it wasn’t for the grip of your wrists you wouldn’t be able to stand.

His hand left the constant pulling of your hips and moved up along your back towards your chest, feeling under your shirt. He pulled the straps of your bra exposing your tits under the buttoned up blouse, forcing them against the car. You could feel the coolness of the glass amongst your shirt, brushing against your nipples.

It was all building, the fullness of Jax inside you, the sound of tires speeding past on the freeway, the weight of his hand mounting you to the roof of then car. Tears began to stream down your face as the sensation was overwhelming, pushing you closer to your finish.

Jax was tensing and hardening his thrusts into you, motivated at the cries that escaped your lips. He continued to slide into you, deepening further each time. “Fuck, Jax”, you choked on the words. “You gonna cum all over my cock?” You could feel control slipping through your limbs and you reached your climax, “mhmm. You’re going to make me cum all fucking over you.”

His head rolled back at your words unravelling him, feeling you tighten around his cock. “Taking me so good”, and it sent him over his peak, as he loaded you generously with his liquid, now dripping from the fullness.

He collapsed into you, letting go of your wrists as they fell to your sides. His mouth was to your ear, gnawing at you, as you both came down from your high. “You know you are so fucking delicious, babe.” He grazed down your ear to your neck, planting kisses on your exposed skin.

You turned to face him, leaning your bare ass against the driver side door, placing your lips on his.

“I wonder if we have enough time to see what we can do on the inside of the death trap.” He gripped your hair with his hands, smiling against your lips as he kissed you back.

“I like your thinking, babe.”

#jax teller x reader #jax teller fiction #jax teller angst #jax teller one shot #jax teller smut #smut #sons of anarchy one shot #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy smut #jax teller #sons #sons of anarchy #charlie hunnam #jax teller morrow #mayans mc #mayans fic #reads whatever writes

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