#but he hadn't done anything wrong yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hannieehaee · 5 months

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18+ / mdi

content: newrelationship!vernon, miscommunication, afab reader, smut, virgin reader, inexperienced reader, dry humping, fingering, etc.

wc: 3040

a/n: had a thought abt this so i decided to write it. hope u like <3

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vernon wasn't sure what he was doing wrong.

god, he was just so into you, but he didn't know what to do anymore.

you'd been dating for a bit over two months by now, and it had been perfect. you'd spent almost every day together, never spending a dull moment by each other's sides. and god, was be obsessed with you. he felt like a bit of a loser, with how horribly down bad he was for you, but he couldn't help himself, okay? you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. it didn't help that you were also the smartest, funniest, sexiest- okay he'll stop now. he still wasn't sure what exactly he had done to bag you, but he wasn't about to question his good fortune.

that was where his problem laid, actually.

despite two months of perfect love (was it too soon for him to say that?), the two of you had yet to have sex - or do anything remotely sexual in general. he'd had the privilege of holding you in his arms as you slept a few times now, and even the pleasure of feeling your lips against his as you endlessly sighed against his mouth when you'd kiss (something that got him going immediately - the feeling of your pliant form against him and your soft lips chasing after his), but he was yet to hit any other base with you.

the sheer desperation he felt for you made him feel terrible. vernon was nothing if not a respectful man. he wanted nothing more than to make you feel as comfortable as possible, never expressing any type of complaint whenever you pulled away or stopped him if things were getting too far for your liking. like last week.

you'd both been on his couch watching a movie together. it was all fine and dandy until you decided to pull his head towards you, suddenly planting a kiss against his lips. you did this quite often, actually. you seemed to really enjoy kissing vernon, something he would never say no to. like any reasonable person, he met you with equal enthusiasm, swallowing your soft moans while he shared a few groans right back into your mouth.

this went on for about fifteen minutes, making him lightheaded at your proximity. his hands were on your waist while yours played with his hair. he had moved you to sit on his lap about ten minutes ago, now having your weight atop his lap while he willed his boner away. it didn't take long for him to begin to get fidgety, deciding to begin a trail of kisses down your neck. your reaction had his breath catching in his throat. he had never heard such pretty moans in his life. it seemed like you were enjoying it as much as he was, tilting your head to the side to give him more room to kiss and suck at. it all went well, until his hands began to wander a bit.

you immediately placed them back on your waist, not giving any other reaction or indication as to why. about ten minutes later when you had finally grown too tired of making out, you separated from one another. you whispered a shy 'sorry' to him before cuddling back into him as you had been thirty minutes ago. he chose not to question it, simply pulling you even closer to his side.

next time it happened it was a bit more embarrassing. you'd woken up together after he had stayed over at your place. you had immediately jumped him, kissing him with intensity he hadn't met before. he wasn't an idiot, so he kissed back, taking anything you were willing to give him. it was filthy, really. just a mess of tongues and even some heavy petting over your clothes.

he was so sure this time you'd want more. that you'd finally at least let him have the unimaginable pleasure of some over-the-clothes action. he would give even with some dry humping. he was incredibly hard, which was already embarrassing on it's own. what made it even more embarrassing, however, was your squeak and the way you backed away the moment you felt his hardness against your leg. there were no words exchanged, just widened eyes starting at one another. the silence was only broken when vernon quickly grumbled out an apology along with a short 'i'll, uh, go take care of it. my bad' before leaving the room and locking himself in your bathroom.

after a less than gratifying session with his fist in your tiny bathroom, he came back to you, ears still burning red and eyes meeting the floor.

"vernon, fuck. i'm sorry, i just wasnt-"

"its fine!", he interrupted (very stupidly, by the way), "you dont have to explain anything. did you, uh, wanna get breakfast or something?"

you smiled back at him, seemingly thankful that he had given you an out, "yeah, sure nonnie."

next time had been the last one. the last instance that truly broke vernon. it had also been an accident, but a fortunate one at that.

vernon already had a key to your apartment. sure, you'd only been dating for a short time, but in both of your defenses, you'd been friends for a while before that, so this just seemed like a logical course of action. vernon had the tendency to drop by your apartment unannounced. he hated texting and was usually too lazy to call, so he had grown accustomed to just popping by. thus far, it had never been an issue. sometimes you'd be caught off guard, but for the most part it didnt go past you playfully slapping his chest and telling him to make some type of noise in order to not give you a heart attack; advice he seemingly did not take. not even today.

he was too quiet, even to a fault. he walked in, not making any type of noise and immediately seeking you out. you weren't in the living room, which meant you could only be in your room. he wished he could've checked the kitchen or the restroom first. maybe then you could've had more time to prepare, but that's not what happened. what happened, however, was that vernon unsuspectedly walked into your room only to find you pantless, with your hand up your cunt, groaning in frustration at yourself - something that had him tilting his head in confusion despite the sheer shock.

he couldn't really see anything too compromising due to the oversized shirt you were wearing covering your crotch itself, but he wasn't an idiot, he knew what having your hand down there meant. you were touching yourself. and it wasn't going well. you hadn't noticed him yet. his eyes were still wide, gasp trapped in his throat before unwillingly releasing it the moment you looked up, probably having felt his presence.

you jumped back in place, grabbing a pillow to cover between your legs before you started yelling at him.

"v-vernon?! what the fuck?! what are you doing here?"

he stayed frozen for a few seconds before finally snapping out of his trance, eyes still glued to your nether area despite the pillow playing the role of a barrier between his eyes and your cunt.

"uh, i, fuck. im sorry, i-"

"stop staring at me!", you put your arms over your face, covering yourself while also making yourself as small as possible due to embarrassment. fuck, vernon felt so terrible at making you feel ashamed that he'd caught you in the act. he hadn't meant to, truly!

"wait, no! don't- it's okay! i'm so sorry," against his better judgment, he walked over to you, sitting next to you on your bed. you hadnt asked him to leave, and you seemed vulnerable, so he assessed that the best move right now would be to try and comfort you.

you slowly looked up at him, hair a mess and obvious tears on your face. your face was also slightly flushed, indicating that you had been crying out of embarrassment. fuck, that was so adorable.

"you don't have to be embarrassed, it- it's fine. i'm sorry i didnt knock, i shouldve called beforehand like you told me. i know im probably overstepping a boundary here, but we've been dating for a while, i know you dont want to go there with me yet, but theres no need to be embarra-"

'it's not- vernon. i do want to have sex with you.'

"h- huh? you do?"

you did?! had he been reading you wrong this whole time? were you just playing hard to get or something? no, that didn't really sound like you.

you turned to face him, making sure your shirt still hid your naked bottom as you did so, "yes, vernon, i just ... fuck, its so embarrassing. ive just never had sex before ..." you looked anywhere but into his eyes as you said this, clearly ashamed of the revelation.

"i- that's it? you're a virgin? babe, you know i don't care about that, right?"

"it's not just that, nonnie. i ... i've never ...." the second half of your statement was too mumbled for him to understand.

"what was that?"

"dont make me say it again!"

"babe, i didnt hear you, i swear. just tell me, baby, cmon. id never judge you, you know that."

you sighed, now deciding to sit up fully and look straight into his eyes, "ive never had an orgasm."

oh. oh.

"r-really?"

"see! you think its weird! that's why i was so frustrated before you came in. it just- it just doesnt work. i dont know what it is. there's something clearly wrong with me," you were growing more and more exasperated by the minute, "ive never gone past second base with any boyfriend because of this. theyve all thought i was weird or broken or something, i'm just-"

"hey, hey. don't think like that. you're not broken. there's nothing wrong with it. if you dont like sex, that's-"

"but i do, vernon. i want to have sex with you!", you gasped at your own statement as soon as it left your mouth, showing clear embarrassment in your face, but you continued after collecting yourself, "i want to have sex. i just .. i dont know what to do. ive tried everything. there's something wrong with me. im sorry, vernon. i want to be with you so bad, - ive been wanting to go further with you - but i just didnt want to disappoint you like everyone else."

vernon was a bit devastated by your dejected demeanor. had every single ex of yours just given up on you? did they not even try to pull an orgasm out of you? the thought made him sad. then came the thought of you touching yourself night after night only to come out empty handed, with no orgasm nor pleasure to show for your efforts. that thought made him shudder. he thought about how well he could've taken care of you. how well he currently wanted to take care of you.

"baby ... you could never disappoint me. fuck, this whole time i thought you just didnt want to be with me. i- i'm sorry if i ever made you feel pressured. ill do things at whatever pace you want. just ... you're not weird. you're not broken, okay? im sorry anyone ever made you feel that way. im sorry no one ever took their time with you," he was genuinely apologetic over it. he had been thinking with his dick this whole time, not once stopping to consider that you had your reasons; very valid ones at that.

"thank you, vernon. i really appreciate it, really," you replied before pausing, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "you ... do you ... uh .."

"yeah, baby? what is it?"

"do you want to have sex? fuck, im sorry. i know that's such an unsexy way to ask. im sorry ive made this whole situation so uncomfortable. i should've just told you, or maybe just-"

he hummed against your lips as he interrupted your nervous rambling with a kiss, "hmm. baby. don't even worry about it. you didnt ruin anything. and you're the sexiest person alive, i ... i think about you all the time. ill take whatever you give me. anything is more than enough, okay?"

that seemed to make you get a little shy once again, "y-yeah. okay, thank you vernon."

vernon could tell what you wanted. i mean, you had literally told him you wanted to have sex with him. you just seemed to need some help getting there. he decided to save you any further embarrassment (even though in reality, he only found your shy demeanor adorable) and close the gap of your lips again.

he kissed you as softly and sensually as he could, pulling all stops to get you keening against him. within only some moments he was already hovering over you on your bed, your shirt ridden up to show your bare lower half. he began to sneak his hands over your shirt, slow enough to allow you to push him off if you wanted to. which you did. except it was only temporary, taking off your shirt altogether before pulling his lips back to yours, making the kiss grow even more intense.

vernon couldnt help moaning against your mouth the moment you moved his hands to play with your bare breasts, wrapping your legs around his waist and doing your best to incite him into humping against you. he didnt need any convincing, immediately digging his clothed crotch into yours. he fell in love with your soft moans, ones he had never heard before.

"nonnie ..." god, you were going to kill him. he wasnt even in you and he already felt like he was going to explode. but his priority right now was showing you that you weren't broken; that you were perfectly deserving of a mind-blowing orgasm.

"can i show you, baby? can i show you how to touch yourself?" he was completely serious too. he wanted not only to give you pleasure but also show you how to seek it on your own. he pictured you thinking about him when you were alone at night, fingers deep in your cunt as you-

"show me? what do you mean?"

"wanna teach you how to get there. can i?", he sat up, doing messy work of pulling off his pants and taking off his shirt, leaving himself in just his boxers before pulling you to sit up with him. he then guided you to sit on top of him as he sat against the headboard. your back was against his chest, with his arms now wrapped around you.

"nonnie ..."

"yeah, baby? whats wrong?", he was now allowing his hands to feel you up, loving how you arched against him the moment his fingers landed on your nipples, lightly pinching at them while he kissed your neck.

"im nervous ... im sorry, i know its dumb."

"its not dumb. is this okay? want me to slow down?"

"no! its fine. youre- you're perfect. i promise."

"okay. im gonna start now, then, okay?", he allowed one of his hands to sneak down, landing right where your cunt began, "im just gonna rub it for now, okay, baby? we'll go step by step."

"o-okay."

he rubbed at you, stopping by your clit every so often just to hear you mewl his name. he allowed his other hand to stay on your tits in the meantime, figuring that it was a sensitive spot for you that would also help you get there. you were extremely wet too, which gave him the idea that he was doing well so far. he had full confidence that he could make you cum. the thought of giving you your first orgasm did things to him.

"gonna put a finger in, okay? gon-"

"two! i can take it, nonnie, i swear. i ... i can already feel it."

"yeah? two? okay, baby. anything you want."

he had meant to start slow and build up his rhythm, but he was met with your desperate cunt chasing after his fingers every time he'd slow down. he figured you were ready for something more intense, so he began to give it his all.

"n-nonnie! fuck!" you grew limp against him, unable to control your moans of pleasure for him. you were beginning to tighten around him, which let him know all he needed to know.

"i- nonnie, i feel ... i feel weird. its so ... fuck ... its so good, nonnie! dont stop. fu- fuck! please!" you were getting progressively more desperate, specially as vernon began to play with your clit once more.

"cum, baby. wanna feel you, fuck. want my pretty girl to feel good," he pistoned his fingers in and out of you, making sure to curl them perfectly in order to hit that spot.

"n-nonnie! fuck!"

he let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of your orgasm invade you, pulling his fingers out immediately to suck at them in a depraved manner he wasn't even aware he had in him. by the time he was done, your orgasm had worn down, leaving you panting against him.

"that ... shit, vernon."

"i told you. told you you weren't broken. fuck, can't believe none of those assholes never even fingered you properly."

"yeah .. i mean, i also never-"

"shh, baby. none of it was your fault. now you know, right? next time you need it, you know how to do it. or, you know, just call me," you bad turned around by now, still sitting on him but now facing him as he spoke.

"thank you, vernon. im sorry i made you feel like i didnt want you," you pouted at him, "god, i cant believe i missed out on that for so long."

"right? uh, anything else you want me to show you?"

you threw him a flirty smile, sensually running your hands up and down his torso, "i had a few ideas, actually."

his eyes widened, "shit, really?"

"yeah ... there's a few other things i need to learn. teach me?"

he had never been more ready (and horny) for anything else before.

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thef1diary · 18 days

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Baby Jr | One

— Friendly Banter

Series summary: The teasing, fleeting touches became much more on the night Carlos won, the sexual tension between you two reached a breaking point. Perhaps it was that night, or the many nights that followed, but you were pregnant with his child, putting you in a difficult situation.

Series Masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

Warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut yet

wc: 2.9k

Note: here it is, the first chapter of many more to come. lemme know what you think, feedback is always appreciated.

You had caught the eye of a certain Ferrari driver from the moment you joined the team. He always looked at you in fascination, having the urge to find a way to figure you out but that's all it was for the longest time. Until it wasn't.

Carlos Sainz vividly remembers the first time he set his eyes on you. He was on his way to leave the headquarters in Maranello while you were on your way inside. Carlos' gaze was watchful, almost heavy with judgment as you hurried in through the doors with more items in your arms than you should've been able to carry.

He almost stopped you to ask who you were, but he noticed the badge clipped onto your jeans, media personnel. You had already passed him before he could read your name, and shook his head knowing that your name was the more important detail compared to your role.

You hadn't noticed him that day, but he noticed you.

He didn't see you again until the new season came around, having almost forgotten about your brief encounter at the end of the previous year. He had to do a double take once he saw you setting up the cameras for some content he was supposed to record along with his teammate.

It was a simple video that required the drivers to answer a few questions sent in by their fans, something that should've been easy since they've done it before. But he couldn't focus on anything but you. Given that you were the ones asking the questions, reading them off the short stack of cards you had in your hand, he wasn't outed for being distracted.

Knowing the drivers still had a busy day ahead of them, you began packing up the items once the video was filmed. Keeping your eyes locked on the task, you expected the drivers to be led away by their PR managers, so you were surely startled once you heard a voice acknowledging you.

Carlos stayed back, and roaming your gaze for a split second behind him, Charles had left. You knew who he was of course, after all you followed the sport for many years before you were given the opportunity to work for one of the teams.

"I don't think we properly met, I'm Carlos." He extended his hand out and you gladly accepted, shaking it while introducing yourself. You found it sweet that despite being one of the two faces of the team, he still introduced himself like you didn't know who he was.

As a junior media employee who was still relatively new to the team, you were informed in advance that you would rarely be interacting with the drivers.

So it wasn't surprising that while working in the same team, you rarely saw Carlos in person. Working under Silvia—the head of communications—you would usually be the one tasked to edit the challenge videos, creating enough content from various footage to keep the fans engaged. The few times you did see him in person was to conduct media challenges that the team planned every once in a while to give the fans a chance to know the drivers underneath their helmets.

As the season went on, you found that you were indeed given the wrong information; you did in fact meet the drivers again and again. You were given many opportunities to travel with the team, and it would've been absurd if you denied those opportunities—not that you had a choice since you were needed at almost every race.

You were glad to experience the thrill of Formula 1 from the front row seats, able to watch all the sessions in the weekend itself but also be a part of the journey with the drivers that not many people get to see.

It was inevitable to befriend many people along the way, especially with their welcoming nature despite some news outlets suggesting otherwise. Formula 1 could be considered as one giant family that obviously had issues every once in a while but no one outside of the sport could relate to them like each other. Especially since it was described like a traveling circus by a few drivers.

While you had befriended many other employees whether it was within your team or others, you also spoke to the other eighteen drivers often.

But no other driver invaded your thoughts like Carlos did.

You didn't know if you were overthinking it all, but you believed that Carlos was a tad bit too friendly compared to Charles or even any other driver for that matter.

Whether it was a compliment that left you a blushing mess, a lingering look that followed you until you left the room, or even a small graze of his fingers against your back while crossing your path, you couldn't think of anyone but him lately.

You heard a Monégasque accent calling your name and you slowed your pace, allowing him to catch up to you as you greeted without needing to look to see who it was, "Charles"

"Here, it's still hot," he was holding two disposable cups of coffee in his hands, extending one towards you.

You gestured to your own hands, carrying one too many things again.

He sighed, "I still don't know how you do that." He stopped walking as he neared a surface to put down the cups. "Here, give it to me," he spoke but didn't let you make a decision as he grabbed the various folders, a clipboard, and a tablet from your hands. You were still holding on to a tripod and a camera but he freed up one of your hands so you could hold the cup.

"I will have to let you know, that tablet you're holding, is very valuable to the team," you stated, mainly in a joking manner because you knew he wouldn't do anything to it.

"Oh is it now? What's on it?" Charles asked once you resumed walking, this time sipping on your coffee before answering his question. "First, perfect," you hummed, gesturing towards the cup. "Second, it has all the schedules for meetings, interviews, and everything that you or Carlos could possibly need a reminder for during the weekend."

He gasped, almost offended, "I do not need reminders for anything during the weekend, not like Carlos does."

Despite how it may seem, your role didn't entail being a driver's assistant. In fact your job was to manage a few social media accounts and create content that included the drivers as much as possible but every now and then you also helped the company keep the public images of the drivers reputable.

Lately, Carlos had been finding reasons to talk to you, and most of that time would be spent reviewing his schedule multiple times throughout the day.

"He can be a little forgetful sometimes," you commented but Charles shook his head.

"A little? He needed you to remind him what time the race was."

You grimaced, knowing Charles was correct. "Well, you're his teammate so you know him better than I do."

"Yeah, I guess I'll ask him, thanks for the coffee," Charles stated as you two entered a meeting room. There were still fifteen minutes before it started, but you preferred to use that time so you could prepare yourself for all the notetaking it usually required. Since you were still a fairly new employee, you wanted to absorb all the information like a sponge.

Confused, you responded back, "you're the one who got the coffee."

He placed the items he was holding on the table, then noticing the time on his watch, a brief gasp overtaking his expression. "Thanks for the company then, I'll see you later," he playfully winked like he always did before leaving the room.

Moments later, a knock distracts you from reviewing the previous notes and stats from the last meeting. Thinking it was Charles, you ask, "did you forget somet- oh, Carlos."

"Are you busy?" He asks as he leans his forearms on the back of a chair. Shaking your head you respond, "not really, what's up?"

"I forget how crazy the crowds can get outside, so can I stay here for a few minutes?" You smile, "of course you can, come sit." He rolled a chair out and sighed in relief after finally getting off his feet.

Carlos closed his eyes for a moment relishing in the moments of silence in his hectic life. It didn't last long as you hummed a random tune which you usually did while working. It was so faint but since it was completely silent otherwise, Carlos' ears perked up as he heard it.

Instead of looking for the moments of silence he thought he needed earlier to even do a simple task as breathing, Carlos leaned forward with his usual watchful gaze focused on you. "Are you planning on more ways for us to make a fool out of ourselves?" He asked.

You chuckled, "I would never do that." Carlos gave you a look that indicated he didn't believe you.

"The last challenge was planned by you, no?" He countered and when you sheepishly smiled, he knew he was correct.

"You know, Charles is right," you spoke after a few moments of silence.

"How so?" He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head for a moment that almost caused you to lose track of your thoughts. You've gotten better at keeping yourself calm and collected around Carlos lately, but you still took a little moment to appreciate how his muscles flexed in the full sleeved shirt he wore.

"There's a team debrief happening in about five minutes where you're needed, and it's a bit of a walk so I'm wondering if you're gonna reach in time." To confirm your words, he glanced at his watch, raising his eyebrows when he realized you were spot on.

"You know my schedule so well now," he couldn't help but comment, chuckling as he did so.

"Only because you forget it," you retaliated.

"Maybe I do that on purpose," he stood up, once again stretching to the point where the hem of his shirt raised a bit, revealing a sliver of skin that your gaze immediately shifted to. While you might've gotten better, you still needed a bit more practice every now and then. Carlos chuckled when you didn't have a response right away, knowing you were distracted but he didn't feel the need to expose you just yet.

As he pulled his shirt down, your eyes snapped to his, finally coming up with a response "and almost get me fired for making you late?"

He shrugged, "maybe." You knew he would never do such a thing that would jeopardize your job, so you shrugged off his comment.

"Go now, Sainz" you urged, waving your hand to emphasize your point.

"I'm going, I'm going, relax, cariño." You could hear his laugh as he left the room, and you didn't focus on the papers in front of you until his footsteps had faded away.

It was just friendly banter, you reminded yourself even after hearing the nickname he gave you. Sometimes your conversations were borderline flirtatious, but it was still fine. Until it wasn't.

As the year progressed further, you were no longer just an employee with a career in motorsport; you were a member of the team that celebrated each high while consoling and sticking together during the lows.

While your job wasn't directly connected to the race, nor could you help in changing the outcome like the mechanics and engineers could, you helped uplift the mood in the room on multiple occasions.

Which is why when Carlos stood on the top step of the podium, claiming his first place trophy that would eventually become a part of a larger collection, you felt like you won.

The spray of champagne reached the crowd of his team waiting below the podium. A laugh bubbled up your throat as Carlos tried to aim the spill of the drink in the team principal's mouth standing on the floor a few feet away from you.

A proud smile grew on your face as you watched the drivers and a representative from your team that collected the constructors trophy gathered together on the top step to take a photo.

The celebrations continued in the team garage, since both drivers made it on the podium. The energy buzzing through each member was noticeable, knowing that this win would be celebrated until the next. After the team photo was taken, the champagne popped once again.

A few people were able to get away from becoming soaked, others were being targeted. Charles managed to slip away, but Carlos couldn't. He happily accepted the spray, soaking his race suit further after the podium.

His eyes however, darted across the crowd and landed on you. Standing just out of reach of the champagne shenanigans but still close enough to celebrate, Carlos decided to pull you even closer.

Grabbing the bottle from the nearest person, he covered the top and shook it. Releasing his thumb, he let the fizzy drink spray out, directing it at you this time. "Carlos!" You shrieked, but laughing nonetheless.

Once satisfied, he took a sip from the bottle, his gaze fixed on you as yours moved down to his neck, watching his Adam's apple bob while he swallowed. Passing the bottle to you, you moistened your lips before tipping it up and sipping the cool champagne.

His attention was diverted as Charles had found another bottle of champagne, deciding to drench his teammate even further after the celebrations began to die down. You smiled as Carlos tried to run away, dodging the alcohol, but it quickly dropped once he used you as a shield.

"Oh, no, no, no," you held your hand out at Charles who smiled mischievously, stopping in his tracks right in front of you.

"You are a part of the team," he commented, and you almost ignored his words as you felt Carlos' hands rest on your waist from behind, feeling his breath on your neck.

The heat of your thoughts was ruined when Charles decided to rain champagne down on you, cooling you off instantly. "Charles," you groaned, knowing that it would be an excruciatingly long process to wash all the champagne out of your hair, especially if it began to dry soon.

The team began to disperse, rightfully so as everyone wanted to change out of their champagne soaked clothes, you included. Trying to wring out as much liquid as you could, you muttered a curse under your breath. This was the first time you ever experienced a win like today.

Speaking of, the winner of the race was standing off to the side, shirtless. Carlos had removed his fireproof top but still had his race suit zipped down to his waist and placed a cap on his head backwards to keep his hair out of his face.

You parted your lips and watched his back muscles flex as he moved around, then hastily looked away as he turned. You kept wringing your shirt as he moved past you, and despite the fact that there was enough space for him to pass you without touching you, his fingertips brushed over your back, down to your waist. He lingered on your hip for too long, but he didn't say anything, only smiled when you inhaled deeply.

You had returned to your hotel room and immediately rushed towards the shower. The champagne from earlier had dried, creating an unpleasant sensation as a layer of tackiness remained behind. Washing away all the sweat and champagne, you sighed in relief, standing underneath the shower for a few extra minutes to release all the soreness in your muscles.

You still felt the buzzing excitement of the day running through your veins as you dried and dressed yourself, but you were also exhausted, ready to climb into bed and drift away into the safety of your dreams.

That plan was interrupted as you heard a knock on the door. Pulling your shirt over your body, you peeked through the peephole, smiling when you saw him standing on the other side.

"Oh hello, don't tell me you forgot your room number," you greeted Carlos as you opened the door.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he was transfixed by the sight of your hair, still wet from your shower, dripping down to your shirt beginning to cling to your body.

"I think I did, tell me you don't remember it either," his voice dropped an octave, and his stare was no longer calculating, but rather enticingly seductive.

"And why would I do that?" You almost whispered, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him.

He stepped forward, leaning one arm on the doorframe while his gaze glanced over you to briefly look inside the room. "I'm sure yours is big enough for two people."

The corner of your lip turned up at his words, knowing it was just a ploy to let him in. The realization that he desired you just as much as you had grown to want him dawned on you as you stared at him standing in front of you.

Trapping your lip between your teeth for a moment, instantly attracting Carlos' gaze towards them, you nodded.

"Let's check," you stepped back, pulling him inside by the collar of his shirt.

——

Taglist is open!! Lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

@xoscar03 @pierregazly @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @lilymurphy03 @gay-hoes-blog @ilovethefruits @lewlew44 @luvvtrent @hc-dutch @fwhore1 @khaylin27 @lillyssh-tposts @thatgirlmj @ladyoflynx @tcfanmania @customsbyjcg-blog @sltwins @nonstopbookworm @glitterquadricorn @charizznorizz @mrs-bunny @moonliightbabes @likedbygaslyy @booksandflowrs @teamnovalak @formula1mount @gaviymarcsbride @gotthemilk-69 @bwormie @llando4norris @ellesssssxzxz @arian-directioner @lou-bean28 @depressedgiftedburnout @halleest @amberpanda99 @borapsycho @cosmoscoffeee @mycenterfold @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sugarvibez @mehrmonga @aadu2173 @bokutos-babyowl @teenwolf01 @presidentdangdang @mrswolffs-blog @khaylin27 @amyfelix14 @seasonswinter @amalialeclerc @amandadesantasworld @ystrolllll @xisab @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @pedrohoe04 @yagirlhayes @teamnovalak @jadaaasworld @mmack23 @shimmermotorsport

#carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #babyjr fic #thef1diary fic #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fluff

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cheriladycl01 · 10 days

Text

Mercedes Golden Girl - Grid x MercedesSplit! Reserve Driver

Plot: You are the woman to have come the furthest in modern Formula 1, as reserve driver for 3/10th of the grid she's thrown about the shop in the season of 2024.

Credits to csquaredinred for the GIF

Y/N Y/L/N was a name in Motorsport History books. She had currently come the furthest a woman has in F1 in many years.

Following in Oscar Piastri's footsteps, you won F3 in 2022 two years after him while he was storming through F2. You had an extremely dominant season being 30 points ahead of the next person behind you.

F3 wasn't too bad, you had one other girl with you that you were able to hang out with, as the boys were all the same in F3.

It was harder in 2023 when you graduated to F2 and were the only girl on the grid. Obviously you made friends with the boys but you always felt like the outcast, you never understood the 'boys jokes' and sometimes they wouldn't invite you to stuff because 'girls wouldn't like it' and it upset you.

You were very nervous to get into F1, only assuming that gap would be larger than it was in F2. So when you won the championship it only seemed smart for Toto to Promote you to the Mercedes reserve driver, on loan to McLaren and Williams as and when needed.

You'd been in the Mercedes Young Driver and Development Programme since Karting thanks to your family connections to one of the mechanics.

He begged Toto to go see you karting and give you a change and that was when his mind was set to help you further your career where he helped you into F4 and other racing.

There was an open spot in 2024 for you to be a Reserve Driver for Mercedes with Frederick Vesti and Mick Schumacher starting to look at other racing categories like WEC and Indy Car. So having you available in a second was important for Toto, they made a clause as engine suppliers for Williams and McLaren that they could also use you as a reserve driver as long as Mercedes had first dibs on you.

You thought your 2024 season would be pretty slow, only getting to go in the F1 car in Free Practice sessions like you had before but oh boy how wrong you turned out to be.

When Lewis announced he was moving to Ferrari in 2024, you had conversations with Toto Wolff and George Russell to see if that Mercedes seat could be yours, despite their being talk of Carlos Sainz, Alex Albon, Kimi Antonelli, Mick Schumacher and Frederick Vesti all up for taking that seat you hoped that maybe you could get it.

Toto didn't confirm anything and for the first four races, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Australia and Japan you did everything you could for the team, grabbing waters, helping hospitality make food, being chauffeur to any of the drivers who were tired after the races and everyone could see how much effort you were putting in.

CHINA 2024

In China, Logan Sargeant sprained his wrist in training and by the time FP1 came around the medical team said it wasn't safe for him to drive. As the sole and only reserve driver Williams had it was up for you to race.

Williams hadn't had a good season and they were worried having a rookie in the car. Both Alex and Logan had their fair share of mistakes and they were worried about their spending this year. They couldn't afford another chassis until Miami.

They also had yet to gain points with either the boys currently.

You were a lot smaller than Logan so they spent time padding out the car to help you so your neck didn't suffer with the G-Force as much.

By the time FP1 came about the car had been padded out fully.

"And here we have a very nervous looking Y/N Y/L/N who has been confirmed to take Logan's place for the race this weekend and will be partaking in her first F1 race. Awwww look at her talking to Logan and his team..." Ted says as he sees her on screen, talking through what was probably race strategy.

"Yeah, obviously she's done these Free Practice sessions but never a race so I'm excited to see what she can do on Sunday!" Martin says looking at her as she starts to pull her race suit up and put her helmet on.

You get in the car and after some wet conditions and not everyone getting out your fourth fastest on the board.

All the interviews were joking around saying how you were a Mercedes miracle.

FP2 saw you get P12 and you were pretty happy with that result as you weren't trying to drive quickly, you were just trying to get used to the track. You'd never driven the Shanghai circuit so getting to grips on the circuit was difficult.

FP3, went better and you came P9, trying to see how confident you were on the track and you were trying to go the quickest time you could without risking the car too much.

Qualifying was not good, your breaks were faulty meaning you didn't make it pas Q1 saddling up in P16.

"How did you feel about that qualifying session Y/N?" an interviewer asks and you.

"Yeah I think I got as much out of that car as I could on that day. I'm not only learning the track... I'm still learning the car and how it's built and just how different it is from F2. Learning both at once is pretty complicated so I'm personally proud of what I've achieved and yeah I hope the team is proud of me too.

"Yeah Y/N i think you've really got to understand just how amazing what you've done so far this weekend is already amazing and no matter the result tomorrow people will still be incredibly amazed by what you've managed to do in a lower end car" he smiles and you grin back.

"Thank you really!" you grinned, nearly tearing up at the kind words.

Come the Sunday and you were ready and raring to go, Williams had come up with an impeccable strategy that you knew you'd be able to pull something off.

"IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO HERE WE ARE RACING IN SHANGHAI CHINA FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2019. AND EVERYONE MAKES IT ROUND TURN ONE, BUT OH MY GOD CONTACT IN THE REAR WITH, WHAT THAT A WILLIAMS AGIAN?" the commentator screams and everyone in the garage is holding their breath, the dust from the gravel trap not allowing them to see which car went into the wall.

Your family were panicking thinking it was you.

"IT'S NOT! IT'S THE RB OF YUKI TSUNODA AND THE ALPINE OF ESTEBAN OCON! AND NOW VALTTERI BOTTAS IS HAVING TO STOP HIS CAR ... LETS REWATCH TO SEE WHAT OCCURED!" the commentator says as they watch the replay of Esteban taking the turn to wide and not leaving enough room for Yuki crashing into the side of him while clipping Valtteri's wheel and wing.

The race went on and you'd managed to climb all the way to 5th thanks to you having insanely good tyre management. It was always one of the things you were condemned for in the lower feeder series is how well you looked after your tyres.

"Y/N is just doing an amazing job, not only is she currently the only one to have not pitted but she's managed to climb her way up the ranks and get that distance she'll need to pit" the commentator says watching.

"I think she's really starting to struggle on those tyres though. I can imagine they'll put her on soft tyres for the last few laps to help her gain those vital positions. Everyone else seems to be on the mediums right now" he explains and on the next lap you called to pit.

However the commentators our outraged as Williams fumble, calling both you and Alex into the pits at the same time.

"Guys what the hell is going on?" you ask waiting behind Alex's car who was getting new tyres and had a very quick pitstop.

However the crew weren't prepared for the double up, so they run getting looking around for what they need for you. It ended up being a 12 second pit stop and you were crying with frustration by the end.

"Y/N I'm sorry we are looking into it" Logan's engineer says and you just ignore.

You came out of the pits in P15 so you had a lock of making up to do.

"AND FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS YEAR WILLIAMS HAVE RECIEVED POINTS, AND BOTH OF THEIR DRIVERS AT THAT DESPITE ALL THAT WAS THROWN AT THEM TODAY THEY HAVE GOT THEMSELVES THOSE VITAL POINTS THAT WILL STIR WILLIAMS IN THE RIGHT WAY!" the commentator yells and as you drive past the pitwall, all engineers from many of the teams are cheering your name making tears come from your eyes, scoring your first point in F1. P10 in your first race.

"You really were just phenomenal out there today Y/N. You had the best tyre management by statistics which is incredible for a reserve rookie... you've just amazed us all!" Naomi smiles at you.

"Honestly its such a great feeling going out there and making the team proud, i think Williams still have so much to work with and I experienced that today but with drivers like Alex and Logan who are both so driven and hard working i can really see them improving throughout the season.

"Do you think you'll do any other races this season?" he asks and you laugh.

"I think I'm lucky as a reserve driver to have been given this opportunity. Obviously my heart goes out to Logan and I hope he makes a full recovery for his home race! But ultimately i dint think I will be called on again this season." you nod.

MONACO 2024

"When you got the phone call from Toto explaining that Lewis wouldn't be able to race in Monaco, you were shocked. It would take something really big to make Lewis not race.

You'd come to the paddock pull of nerves and you felt physically sick. Mercedes, even though their car was pretty shit this year, still had a mid field car and you were going to prove that you could drive it like it was a championship winning car ... if it was any other circuit than Monaco.

Monaco was... well Monaco. It's an itty bitty small street track that didn't have a lot of room for overtakes, had twisty corners that were very unpredictable and could always have a chance of rain.

So yeah you were worried.

Too the point you actually had a panic attack, there you were in your drivers room crying and sobbing over the pressures from media day before going out to FP1.

"Y/N?" you heard from outside your drivers room making you stop completely in your tracks trying to make your crying silent but you were doing this weird little hiccupping sound as you were gasping for breaths.

"I'm coming in!" George says and he walks in, greeted by your red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"Awwww baby" he says with a pout and pulls you into a hug as you sob more. There wasn't as much pressure on you as there were in the Williams, Mercedes had been constructors champions for 8 years in a row.

"George I'm so scared, what if i mess up!" you cry looking at him and George was nearly brough to tears himself seeing this 21 year old girl sobbing into his chest at the prospect of her messing up.

"What are you worried about messing up!" he asks.

"The race, the constructors championship! Everything!" you cry harder. George stays with you until you both are needed for the Free Practice Session.

Lewis' Mercedes has to be very packed out for you as he was a bulky man despite his height and that was the first issue in FP1. They hadn't packed you out enough and your were struggling a little with the G-Force, some corners the particularly fast ones, your head was flying to the side causing your steering to be a little off.

Despite that it made for a great weekend. George was right, you didn't have anything to worry about and you came P7 while George game P5 having car problems in qualifying meaning he'd had the better overall driver working his way up to the position he had.

"And again Y/N, how do you feel now that you are above Ollie Bearmen in the drivers Championship!" she asks and you giggle. You and Ollie despite being in different driver development programmers had a special bond. You both karted together a lot as kids and you went to the same school as him despite being a few school years above him. You had a sibling sort of bond.

"Yeah, i mean it's a little unfair to compare me at all considering he drove the second best car on his first F1 race... but i think we both stepped up to the challenge well and really took it in our strides. I'm excited to see of there are any teams willing to offer him a seat. I think so much talent from F2 is being wasted and the feeder series doesn't feel like its doing well of getting drivers into F1... so it would be interesting to see a new category added that's closer to F1 than F2 ..." you admit knowing that's how all of the washed out F2 drivers felt that will potentially never get to experience a career in F1.

SPAIN and AUSTRIA.

You were on a yacht, you didn't know whose but you were on a yacht when you had the news that George Russell had fully broken his foot in a crash Canada and they'd need you to step in for two races while it healed. He was getting surgery... of course he was and it should be healed by the time George's home race came around.

Getting to drive alongside your idol Lewis was incredible. He'd made you feel so safe and comfortable the whole weekend and you clung to him in all the media and interviews.

Not that Lewis minded, he found you adorable and didn't want you to feel left out or side-lined. He brought you out for food with some of the other drivers who you got talking to finding out their likes and dislikes. Lewis and Charles would excitedly gossip about them being team-mates for 2025 and whether Toto had found a replacement.

"Well... Carlos told me... and you cant tell anyone... promise?" Charles said seriously as the three of you were stood at the bar. And you nod.

"He's been offered a 3 year contract at Red Bull which is perfect for him to then make the move to Audi!" Charles exclaimed and you let out a breath of release.

The Mercedes seat was still up for grabs.

Spain was incredible, you'd never felt the heat and an atmosphere quite like it and you got you best result yet, coming P5. You kind of blamed that on Max and Perez crashing into each other and the debris messing with Carlos' car meaning Charles, Lewis and Lando took the podium while you and Oscar were just shy of it.

Austria was also good where you came in P8, Aston and Ferrari having had upgrades meant it was a tougher battle with everyone on the grid.

You now had 21 points, and were 10th in the constructors championship despite not being there for all the races which you were pretty impressed with. You'd scored points at all your races.

But it wasn't until Monza that the big one came.

MONZA

You were asked to fill in for Mr Oscar Piastri who had come down with what the medical team deemed invasive tonsillitis and he was not on par to drive.

Again you were nervous but having driven the Mercedes a few times you felt more and more confident.

You and Lando had pretty much spent the whole media day messing around. Lando did it, not only because he liked you but because he knew you were nervous despite the front you were putting on for everyone in the garage.

You and Lando got on like two pees in a pod and everyone found the dynamic hilarious. Lando flirting with you while you were innocently oblivious to his moves.

Lando found you insanely attractive. Every race you turned up at he'd look out for you in the paddock just so he could see you in your Mercedes gear.

Today however, you looked even better rocking the Papaya.

"You look good today!" Lando attempted as he grinned at you.

"Thank you! I got a new helmet design for this one, wanna see?" you ask and he nods. You show him your helmet which was so you, but you'd gone all out making it glittery. One side had Lando's pattern on it from his standard 2024 helmet.

"Oh woah! That looks great!" he grins, watching as you pop it on. He teasingly slaps the lid down making you try to reach up and swatch his hands away and lift the visor back up.

"Lan come on!" you cry frustrated making him chuckle.

Qualifying came and Piastri's now your car had so many issues meaning you were starting in Sunday in P11, which wasn't great. But the engineers promised to fix the issues before the race.

Lando got pole and you were overjoyed no longer caring about the shit show of your Qually.

You were jumping and hugging him as he got out the car and he enveloped you back in the hug.

"I'm so proud of you!" you'd squealed to him, and thank god his helmet was on because boy was blushing hard.

"Thank you!"

Sunday came around and it was carnage.

"AND AFTER A DIFFICULT RACE LANDO NORRIS WINS THE 2024 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX HIS FIRST EVER WIN, HERE COMES MAX VERSTAPPEN IN P2 AND Y/N Y/L/N GETTING HER MAIDEN PODIUM AS A RESERVE DRIVER FOR MCLAREN. WHAT A RACE SHE HAS HAD!" the commentator screams.

All of the Mclaren team were celebrating from the pit wall as you and Lando waved at them.

Being up there on the podium with Lando and Max was like nothing you've ever experienced. You were drenched in sticky champagne and you were laughing and joking with two friends about the victory.

"If that doesn't get her a seat next year I don't know what will" the commentators say before the Sunday Race stops broadcasting live.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

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lyvhie · 4 days

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a different kind of exercise | ljn

personal trainer!jeno × fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: he just wanted to give you a private lesson.

a/n: sorry, that didn't go well as i wanted, but i didn't have anything planned for his bday and this ended up coming out 😭 i didn't like that one, but happy bday to jeno!

cw: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, petnames (baby/pretty)

jeno was not planning on this. yet he was glad it happened.

when he accepted to be your personal trainer, he didn't think much about it. you seemed like a genuine newbie in the gym, seeking legitimate help. unlike other people, you hadn't chosen him just because of his good looks, he could see that you actually wanted to learn.

he wasn't expecting much to come from your time together aside from some casual conversation during workouts and the occasional advice about exercising, but he found himself growing more interested in you than his purpose of teaching.

he didn't know why exactly, but he felt an attraction to you that he couldn't explain. sometimes he would even find himself acting like a pervert. and he knew that was wrong, but it was all somehow your fault.

he would often blame you for wearing those tight leggings that gripped onto your body like a second skin. he knew it wasn't fair to blame you for their existence, but he also couldn't help but be distracted by their form-fittedness.

but he was glad you wore them. he loved it when you folded forward, giving him a great view of your ass. he would make up some excuse about you doing it wrong just to get closer and hold your waist. he would press you against him and lean over you, telling you "how it should be done," while enjoying the feel of your body pressed against his. he enjoyed taking his time to "help you do it right" so that he could spend more time up close with your ass rubbing against his cock.

or when he is "helping you out" by adjusting your position and form while doing an exercise. he knew that wasn't necessary, but he used the excuse of "straightening you up" to sneak his hands around you. he would grab a handful of your breasts, pretending to position you properly to do the exercise but actually taking the chance to feel you up.

jeno would often find excuses to get close to you, brushing up against you or putting his hands on your body more often than necessary, always trying to touch you in subtle ways that he hoped you wouldn't notice.

and that was the best—or worst—part of it all. you were completely clueless about his actions, genuinely thinking it was just his way of teaching. honestly, it wasn't bothering you at all. in fact, you even secretly enjoyed it when he was "just teaching you" and getting a bit too close for comfort by holding you up and touching your body.

but still, for jeno, this was pure agony too. all he craved was to fuck you senseless until you were practically limping, but he couldn't just spit it out. ever since your sessions began, he caught himself fucking his fist at night thinking about you, he'd daydream about pounding into you, making you yell his name 'til you were hoarse.

gosh, he needed you so bad.

and so he made it.

it was easier than he thought. all he had to do was come with an excuse to get you to his house. saying he needed to "go over some information" about your exercises and "get more in-depth" with your routine, he asked you to come over to his place to "work through the details" of your activities.

he can't really remember how things escalated from telling you to make yourself comfortable to him pressing you up against the bed mattress with your legs around his waist while you cry out his name because of how good it feels to have his cock stretching your tight pussy.

“you feel so—god, so f-fucking good,” jeno’s hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts deeper into you, his movements becoming more urgent with each passing second. your hands were gripping the sheet so tightly that your knuckles were white, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“y-you're so tight, baby,” he looked down to see where your bodies connected, watching as his length disappeared into your welcoming pussy.

"fuck, y/n... you take me so well,” he breathes heavily, trying to maintain control as you clench around him. "i could stay here forever,” his cock slamming into you with such force that you could feel it in your bones.

the sensation of him filling you up completely is almost too much to bear, but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world right now.

jeno feels your body tensing up and your warm walls squeezing him again, making him groan. “are you close, pretty?” the only answer for his question were your loud moan and it was enough for him.

you gasp when he suddenly changes your position, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder and driving himself even deeper inside of you. the new angle hits all the right spots, and you feel yourself being stretched to the limit, even more sensitive as his hand slip down to rub your clit.

you starts to feel an orgasm building inside of you, which made you let a whine escape your lips. you didn't want this moment to end, but you know it's going to be explosive when it finally does. you focus on the sensation of him filling you up, on the sound of your bodies slapping together, and on the scent of sex in the air. it's a heady combination that sends you over the edge, you body shuddering and convulsing beneath his as you milk his cock.

jeno himself couldn’t hold back his own climax any longer, the way your face contorts in pure bliss as you come undone beneath him sends him over the edge. feeling his orgasm getting closer and closer, his thrusts became a little more messy, but still at the same pace. it felt so good he almost forgot to pull out, withdrawing just in time to cum on your thigh, his hot load sticking to your skin.

he falls onto the bed next to you, the only sound now is your heavy breathing as you both try to compose yourself. you continue to silently stare at the ceiling for a few more minutes before turning your head to look at him, just to find him already looking at you.

“so…” you begin. “same time next week?”

#jeno x reader #jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct x reader

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marcsburnerphone · 8 months

Text

wish I wasn't so hurt

Captain John price x f!reader

Summary:being johns’ wife has been full of security and safety and you never thought he’d be the one to taint that.

Warnings: angst,(hurt/comfort, 141 task force loves you, price is full of guilt, reader is struggling to process her feelings

Part two!! Find part one here - Part 1

—----------

The cafe was quiet and warm when you entered, a few couples here and there were tucked away in booths chatting mindlessly. There was a dull ache spread throughout your chest and head from crying, ordering your coffee You couldn't help but notice the look of sympathy that sat on the barista's face.

You found a booth somewhere in the corner and dug your phone out of your purse and powered it on after having shut it off to stop the continuous buzzing it’d been doing in the car. To say the least it almost overheated and you couldn’t get to the silence button fast enough.

4 missed calls.

2 voicemails.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

“I have lost my mind, I know.”

“Where are you my love?”

“Please just talk to me, or text either please.”

“I know I was wrong, it wasn’t my intention.”

“Fuck em.” This one was from Simon and it made you giggle.

A part of you wanted to message john and let him know you're okay to ease his mind, yet you didn’t instead you tucked your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. Maybe being this upset wasn't reasonable but the way he dismissed you with such harsh words intending to scare you, it was hard to get past.

Had you pushed too far? If you would have just left this could've been avoided, the anger that was spreading in your heart, the trouble of processing how to feel or move forward from this. To be fair John had never done anything to scare you or make you feel unsafe after all these years, even when he came home with blood still on his boots his eyes and voice were nothing but tender and loving. This is where you found trouble, how could he have changed so fast? How had he been so cold?

—--------

Back on base he was suffering, his heart ached with shame and remorse. How could he speak to you in such a way? Often he fell victim to his anger but this time so did you. He checked his phone continuously since you left here and it’d become clear to him you'd stopped somewhere before going home. He just wished he knew where.

The bowl of food hadn't been picked up from where your shaking hands had left it, the thought itself made him nauseous. He was fearful for the first time in a long while, for someone with so much control the thought of you leaving had him ready to crumble to the floor and maybe that's what he deserves.

The Men that were usually rowdy and causing commotion had fallen silent in his presence as he went for a cup of tea in the common area.

Price didn’t understand the blessing he held in the palm of his hands, to find someone as loving and caring as you was a once in a lifetime thing especially with the career he possessed. Bloody hands that get to go home to welcoming warm ones, a soldiers’ wish.

—------------

You sat around trying to pinpoint where the confusion in how to feel was but hopelessly gave up and decided it was time to head home. The chilly air outside made you shiver on the way to your car. The drive home was draining, music filled the silence followed by the wisp of the heater. You'd sleep in the yard to avoid anything john if you weren't so scared of the dark.

As your car arrived on the familiar gravely ground to your home, a deep sigh escaped you. Clutching your keys you headed to the door and jumped at the voice that came through the camera thing.

“Love please I’m sorry, where were you? I was worried?” The frantic yet somewhat calm voice of your husband came through. You thought of replying, yet you didn’t.

You walked inside, locking the door behind you and reset the alarm system. Your feet carried you mindlessly upstairs and to your bed, sleep came easy yet painfully that night but nevertheless any sleep was good sleep.

—-----------

John had never experienced your complete silence and couldn't take it. He decided he'd leave base early in the morning in hopes to resolve this with you, he wasn't even cleared to leave base but he couldn't really 100% be here if the idea of you hurting on your own was weighing on his mind.

—------------

Back at home was exactly that, you were wrong, any sleep wasn’t good sleep, the bed that you’ve slept in many nights without John had somehow felt emptier. Your head was pounding from a lack of sleep and crying, you waited for the ibuprofen you'd taken to kick in and just laid silently in bed . After a while you became lost in thought and missed the sound of tires on gravel but the slam of the door snapped you out of it.

Like a child you acted like you were sleeping instead of running out of bed into his arms like you normally would. His heavy boots climbed the stairs into your bedroom, you were sure he noticed your breathing pattern was one of an awake person but couldn’t find a reason to care.

“Darling.” He whispers and you feel the dent of his weight crease on the bed.

“I don’t want to see you right now John.” But you had wanted to see him, you were just scared this time you’d see him differently.

“Please, my love, talk to me.” It was a plea as his hand went to your thigh rubbing small circles into your soft skin.

“No.” Tears began to well in your eyes again, thankfully you chose to lay facing the window.

At that he raised from where he was sitting and rounded the bed kneeling beside your head, it broke his heart to see your puffy eyes and fresh tears streaking your beautiful face. His hand raised to caress your face and you stubbornly pulled away.

Instead of that he placed his forehead on yours not minding the way his rickety knees would ache tomorrow.

“You scared me.” You whispered, voice quivering with emotion.

“I know, I’m so sorry. I’d never hurt you willingly a day in my life. I just- I don’t know what came over me.” He kissed your forehead and then the tears that he was causing.

“No you don’t understand John.” You flipped your body the other way, suddenly feeling overwhelmed in his presence.

He wasn’t going to leave you too hurt although you wished he would. There was just enough room on the bed for him to lay beside you. He formed his body to yours holding you firmly.

At this you sobbed, the weight of your cries was devastating, as his body shook with yours he pulled you tighter to him.

“Your my wife and my equal I was beyond wrong I- I’m ashamed of my behavior you didn’t deserve that nor it will never happen again I promise i’ll never be the man that makes you hurt please forgive me.” he whispered into your hair soothing your erratic breathing back to somewhat stable.

“John.” you said between hiccups.

“Yes my darling.” he didn't like when you called him by his name but at least you were speaking to him.

“Im tired.” he was fucking hurting inside.

“Then sleep.” he nuzzled his nose deeper into the scent of your shampoo, you just nodded your head and let your eyes close, exhaustion showed no mercy as you immediately fell into a deep slumber.

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

the love on part 1 was amazing thankyou all from the bottom of my heart.

feedback and reposts are deeply appreciated;)

There will be a part 3;)

#john price #captain price x female reader #task force 141 #captain john price #john price x reader #angst #cod mw2

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 11 months

Text

"Hello." A dull thwack sound reverberated across the rooftop, leaving the boy who snuck up on Red Robin clutching his head. The boy, a meta if the large animal ears and tail were anything to go by, shook off the pain and pouted up at him, "What was that for?!"

The vigilante was unrepentant, holding his bo staff in a ready position, "You snuck up behind a vigilante at night. In Gotham."

"Okay," the meta conceded, still pouting. "You have a point there. Robin threw ninja stars at me when I tried to approach Batman."

That got Tims attention, "You tried to approach Batman? Was there something you needed?"

The kid suddenly got serious, "My mom went missing. I haven't been able to contact her for almost two weeks now."

Red pulled his arm closer to his face before he began typing on his wrist computer, "Can you tell me her name and date of birth?"

"Um." The other teen fidgetted with his tail a bit, "Okay, so...she's kinda Cheetah."

"...come again?"

"She's Cheetah. The...the supervillian."

Red Robin stared at him, and honestly who could blame him? The bats hadn't even known Cheetah had a son. "So why are you in Gotham? Why not ask Wonder Woman for help? Cheetahs one of her rogues not ours."

The teen shook his head, "She went to meet someone in Gotham before she disappeared. She seemed really agitated before she left, almost scared. I've never seen her like that before." He paused, giving the vigilante time to type before continuing, "I didn't go Wonder Woman since I figured I would wind up needing to talk to a bat anyway since its your turf and all." He said, waving a hand as if gesturing to the city around them.

"I wasn't aware Cheetah had a kid."

The meta grimaced, "she didn't until a year ago."

Red gave him a look, as if urging him to go on.

The meta chuffed, sounding a lot like whatever big cat he was supposed to be, "I'll only tell you my tragic backstory if you promise to help me find my mom."

"I'll find your mom." The bird said without an ounce of hesitation. Tim was a little offended. Did this guy think he was going to leave his mom in danger just because she was a criminal? Appearently so, seeing as the teen looked so relieved at his words.

"Okay, so my bio parents were evil mad scientists. Always a bad start, anyway they were obsessed with the occult and one day they suddenly took me and my sister to Brazil to hunt for some artifact of another. That alone was strange but weirder still was the fact my creepy godfather was paying for it all. He usually only does something like that when he's plotting "

"Plotting?" The detective interjected, "you make it sound like he does that often."

"Yeah. Hes a supervillian." The meta said casually, as if he didn't just leave Tim reeling, but the kid wasn't done yet, "He's had a massive crush on my bio mom since collage and never let it go no matter how many times she rejected him. She even married my dad, his best friend, and this dude just kept simping for 20 years." The teen rolled his eyes, "Hes convinced himself that if he murders my bio dad then my bio mom will fall in love with him and me and jazz will be "his"." He said that last part with fingerqoutes and a disgusted expression.

Tim filed that away for later, "Can I have his name, if nothing else?"

The teen seemed reluctant for a moment, "You're the worlds greatest detectives. You'll find out even if i try to hide it. Besides, I'd probably be better off if you and the Justice League know everything anyway."

Tim was...surprised by that. Most people usually weren't this open with them.

"His name is Vlad Masters, he also goes by Plasmius when he's dressed like a wannabe vampire. He's a ghost who's repossessed his corpse. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton, who are obsessed with ghosts and have convinced themselves that all ghosts are evil and must be destroyed, regardless of how much evidence points to them being wrong."

"And your name?"

The meta grinned at him, showing off four very sharp fangs, reminiscent of the large cat he takes after, "You can call me Jaguar. We were exploring a bit when I broke off from my family and got jumped by one of them. Suddenly I was struck by a claw and turned into furry bait. Fluffy stopped trying to make me his lunch and just stared at me before walking away, which was wierd. Then my parents found me, accused me of being a ghost, because thats naturally what someone would assume when thier son sprouts cat ears," he said while rolling his eyes.

"Naturally." Red joked, which had the benefit of making Jaguar smile.

"So my parents chased me through the jungle, shooting all the while, then suddenly a portal opened up in front of me. I'm not stupid, I know there was no way this wasn't a trap. I mean, a portal opening up right after that bizarre series of events and its the same shade of glowing green as the wierd death go my parents are obsessed with? There's no way they weren't related somhow, but I was desperate and jumped through anyway."

"I landed in another jungle, or the same one in a different location, I'm not sure. I tried hunting and foraging but wasn't very successful at either." Danny still remembered the throbbed in his head when he had headbutt that tree after missing his pounce on that pig he had been stalking. "Thats when Cheetah found me. She took me in and taught me to hunt and fight."

-----

Possible plot twists:

1. Danny isnt Phantom in this au

2. Danny is Phantom in this au but is trying to leave that life behind

3. My favorite. Danny has the ability to manipulate and control animals into doing his bidding with the effect of jaguars and other big cats being the most prevalent and he just doesn't realize it.

One of Cheetahs friends/allies realizes cheetah has changed and suspected something and convinced her to leave for a while to see if her care for this kid faded after a while away from his presence. It works and Danny loses another parental figure/possibly attacked by them too.

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morbiderotica · 6 months

Note

Hii! Can i pls request a Light x reader nsfw? You know the scenes where L planted a camera in his room right? Well maybe to make L less suspicious of him Light fucks the reader in his room? I thought that it was a hot idea♡ you dont have to do it if you dont want to😊

★ DECEPTION ─ fem!reader

#NOTES ─ i love you for requesting this i cannot tell you how many times i've day dreamed about this (sorry it took so long)

#WARNINGS ─ smut, cnc peeping toms (L), p in v,

#SUMMARY ─ "there was an elaborate plan set in place. but as soon as light's hands snaked around your waist you seemed to forget everything you were supposed to do and say." innocent until proven guilty

there was an elaborate plan set in place. but as soon as light's hands snaked around your waist you seemed to forget everything you were supposed to do and say. his moderately chapped lips kissing your cheek lovingly. much unlike how light usually behaved around you.

"light." his name left your lips, trying to warn him he'd made your mind go blank. but he knew.

"i know." he whispered back, displeasure laced in his voice. luckily, light was more than capable of carrying out the plan for the both of you.

"just let me do all the work." he muttered, his voice not loud enough to be picked up on by the mics on the camera but still he was careful with what he said.

he hoped you would be too. you nodded. looking up at light with a lustful look in your eye that he couldn't deny was making him a little aroused. light kissed your jaw, roughly. as if light was capable of doing anything without roughness.

"last chance to back out." it's not a soft tone, but it does let you know that he won't be mad at you if you do decide you don't want some random creep watching you have sex with your friend.

you shake your head, you weren't going to let him down now. and to be totally honest, the thought of someone watching you in such a vulnerable position was intriguing to say the least. light began to undress you once you'd given him your final consent.

meanwhile, L watched his screen with wider eyes than normal. his eyes grazing every pixel of the screen as he watched light take off your shirt. neglecting the other screens that were broadcasting equally, if not more, important information. L racked his brain trying to figure out if this was just a trick of if he was really witnessing this dirty scene play out.

all your clothes were off in what seemed like a blink of an eye. pressed into the mattress with light's knee inches away from your heated core. you dumbly pull at his tie, fucked out expression but light hadn't even gotten started with you yet.

"you got any thoughts in there at all?" he smirks. silently gloating now that he knew he had every single person he knew wrapped around his godly finger. there was not a thought behind your blown out pupils. it prided light to know he had such an effect on you.

"i haven't even done anything yet." he furthers. and L was hearing all of it.

you paw at the waist band of his bland khaki pants. light chuckled feeling your shaky hands trying to get more of him. his rubs his hand over your chest, caressing your nipple with his pointer and thumb.

"patient girls get rewarded." he tsks. he's met with a whine to which he chuckles again. he knows L will over analyze and find something wrong with the scenario if he doesn't hurry up.

"you wanna get rewarded?" he unbuttons his pants with one hand. you're eager, desperate. you need hm in a way you didn't even know it was possible to want one of your friend.

he reaches over you, grabbing a condom from the book shelf. it was wedged between two books. clearly he was trying to keep it hidden from his maid of a mom and his nosy sister.

he opens the condom with his teeth and you might as well just have hearts in your eyes as you watch him. the wrapper falls somewhere unimportant on the bed. he rolls the condom on. you knew it was only a matter of time before you finally felt full with his cock.

#─ ♡ death note #he makes me so subby #death note #death note x reader #death note smut #light yagami smut #light yagami x reader #light yagami death note #light yagami #yagami light

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edenesth · 3 months

Text

The Way to His Heart [6]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 5 | Fic Masterlist | Part 7

"Please enjoy your meal, master and mistress. We hope the dishes are to your liking." The servants bowed before leaving the hall after serving dinner for the night.

Sitting up straight, hands folded on your lap, you patiently awaited Seonghwa to begin eating. The enticing aroma of the dishes made your mouth water, and your eyes gleamed as you observed your husband's hands reaching for his chopsticks.

He noticed your gaze, smiled, and rather than taking a piece of meat for himself, he surprised you by placing it in your bowl instead, "Eat up; you must be hungry."

The general sighed as he saw you hesitating to start eating until he had taken the first bite. Amused, he set down his chopsticks and watched as you slumped in your seat, seemingly disappointed that he hadn't begun eating yet.

"Why are you still sitting around? Go ahead and eat," He said, and your eyes widened, "But, my lord, how can I—"

Shaking his head, he picked up his spoon and reached for a tofu dish he had noticed you eyeing for some time, scooping up just enough before holding it to your lips, "Here, you want this, don't you?" Before you could protest, he pushed it closer to you, "Open up before I change my mind," and you couldn't resist, taking a bite.

Eunsook couldn't help snickering into her fist as she witnessed the adorable interaction. You chewed cluelessly on your food, eyes sparkling as you savoured the flavour, while Seonghwa continued to eat with the same spoon, indirectly sharing a kiss with you.

Throughout dinner, your husband focused more on taking care of you, he filled your bowl with a variety of dishes and wiped the corners of your lips whenever your excitement caused a mess. After finishing his own meal, he continued to watch you with admiration as you kept eating.

Concern crept in when he noticed your movements slowing down, and you started breathing rather heavily. It seemed like you were already full but were pushing yourself to eat more, "Hey, slow down. Are you full? You need to stop eating if you are."

You shook your head, reaching for another slice of rolled omelette. Furrowing his brows, he realised you were struggling to swallow. Why were you continuing to eat if you were already so full? It was as if you didn't know when your next meal would be, and you were trying to consume as much as possible for the time being.

"Stop, stop," He repeated firmly, gently holding your wrist and taking the chopsticks from your hand, "Look at me," You took your eyes off the food and finally met his gaze, "Are you afraid you won't get to eat again?" You avoided eye contact and that confirmed his suspicion, it broke his heart to see you still in survival mode.

Feeling like you had done something wrong, you bowed your head and nervously fiddled with your fingers, "I-I'm sorry... I just have never had a proper meal like this before, a-and..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," He assured, moving to hold your hands and rubbing his thumb over your skin comfortingly, "You're the mistress of this estate now. You can eat anything you want at any time. All you have to do is call for the servants, and they will serve you. As long as I live, you never have to worry about not being able to eat again, you hear me?"

You nodded, moved by the sincerity in his tone and the warmth in his touch and gaze, "I understand. Thank you, my lord."

However, he seemed unsatisfied with something you said, contemplating for a moment before murmuring, "Seonghwa. Just Seonghwa, please."

Your eyes widened, "Wh-what?"

He looked away from your questioning gaze, embarrassed, "You're my wife now, there's no need to be so formal. Just call me Seonghwa from now on."

"Okay... S-Seonghwa." You muttered unsurely, suppressing the blush on your cheeks as he lifted his eyes to stare at you in wonder.

Little did you know, the sound of his name coming from you melted his heart, further deepening the growing affection he had for you. Though it had only been a day or two since he met you, and despite his initial misguided disdain, once he learned the truth about you, an irrational desire to protect you took root within him. For the first time in forever, he found someone worth caring for.

As much as the head maid enjoyed watching the two of you exchange deep gazes all night, the rest of the servants in charge of the dining hall were waiting to clear up and get some rest.

With a loud clearing of her throat, she finally broke you both out of your little staring contest, "Master, mistress, are you finished with dinner? It's getting rather late now, we should probably make haste and clean up the hall before we attract all sorts of insects."

Suddenly remembering that you weren't alone in the hall, the general swiftly collected himself from his slightly flustered state, "Of course, send the maids in. Is the mistress' new quarters prepared?" He checked with Eunsook, moving to help you out of your seat with your hand still in his.

The elderly woman, with a concealed smile, nodded and bowed, "It is, master. I'll leave it to you to show mistress to her room then."

You waved to her as you followed your husband out of the hall, "Thank you for the food, Eunsook. Please tell the kitchen staff they did a wonderful job; every dish was incredibly tasty!"

She nodded with a beam, bowing again, "Yes, mistress. They'll be happy to hear that."

Leading you along, Seonghwa made an effort to appear composed, attempting to hide the joy he felt from walking with your hands intertwined. The passing servants were surprised at the rare sight of their master and mistress walking hand in hand. As they bowed, their smiles widened when you waved at them, and the general's soft chuckle didn't escape their notice.

It amused them how resolute he had initially been about getting rid of you, and now he seemed to have a hard time tearing his eyes away from you for even a moment.

"Come on, you'll love the new quarters," He said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You raised your eyebrows, "But what about my previous room? That was fine too."

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly at the sudden reminder of The Cold Palace, "Well, I may have broken the door, but that's not the point. The point is that you are now officially my wife, and Lady Park deserves nothing but the best, understood?" You nodded, simply feeling grateful for everything.

"We're here. Welcome to the House of Lotus."

Your jaw dropped at the sight of the beautiful private garden surrounding what was to be your new quarters. A pavilion on the right of the main chamber faced a small pond filled with lotus flowers, "You can relax over there, have some tea and read when the weather is good. This is all yours. If you ever need me for anything, I'm just down the path; we're practically neighbours."

The general panicked when he saw your eyes welling up with tears, releasing your hand to grasp your shoulders, "D-do you not like it? We can arrange a different one for you if you want—"

Shaking your head, you sniffled, "N-no, it's not that. I j-just can't believe this is really all mine. Th-thank you so much, Seonghwa..."

He breathed out in relief, pulling you into his arms as you cried into his neck, "What did I say, you silly girl? Only the best for you." He gazed around in satisfaction; he had intentionally requested his maids to arrange the room closest to his private quarters, wanting to be near you.

Aside from that, the abundance of lotus flowers in this specific area earned it the nickname House of Lotus. Known for its connection with purity, rebirth, and divinity, the lotus flower symbolises rising from a dark place into beauty and rebirth, mirroring its growth process. This was precisely what the general had envisioned for you—a metaphorical representation of new beginnings and a fresh start.

"Master, we have come to prepare mistress for bed. Do we have permission to proceed?"

"Of course, I'll leave you to it then." Your husband had no choice but to leave you as the group of servants assigned to you for the night arrived, hands carrying bath supplies, Yunho's prepared ointment for your wounds, and a fresh piece of nightgown.

"Have a good rest tonight, my dear. We're paying the dressmaker a visit tomorrow; we're getting you new clothes." He pressed a firm kiss onto your head and did not leave until he was sure you had entered the room, reluctantly heading towards his study to wait for updates from Jongho.

Reaching for the Jang family records he had hidden from you earlier, he got back to work. With the week off granted by the King for him to celebrate his wedding, Seonghwa was determined to gather as much intel as he could before setting his plans into motion, "Just you wait, minister. Savour the peace while you still can."

Just when the general believed he had prepared himself to learn the extent of the abuse you had endured throughout your life, he managed to keep his rage in check as he listened to the harrowing details. However, nothing could have prepared him for the new revelation that his aide brought to him.

His disgust for the Minister of Military Affairs, already intense, reached new heights with the secret he had just uncovered. The assistant bowed his head as his master broke into a grin of disbelief, "And here, I thought I was labelled the heartless monster. Clearly, the minister is the rightful owner of the title."

Pointing towards the copy of your family records on his desk, Seonghwa inquired, "What about this? Have you been able to confirm the suspicions I have about those three she-devils?"

Jongho shook his head, "Not yet, sir. We'll need evidence to prove your theory; we might have to dig deeper. Just getting someone to talk about it might not be sufficient for your plan to succeed."

The general nodded, "It's alright, Jongho. We still have some time. So long as we have that piece of evidence before I return to work next week, is that doable?"

After a brief moment of contemplation, his aide replied, "Yes, I think that should be enough time. If that is all for now, I'll be taking my leave, sir."

"Thank you, Jongho. You may go."

Left alone with his thoughts, your husband resisted the urge to run to you immediately. He felt so angry for you that he could almost cry. The depth of your suffering was unimaginable to him, and all he wanted was to embrace you, shield you from the harsh and cruel world, and erase the pain and traumatic memories.

Clutching the book with your family crest, he glared at your father's name, imagining all the ways he could take the old man out.

I promise you, my dear. I'll make them pay.

At the same time, he couldn't stop beating himself up for the way he had treated you on your first day here. His heart ached as he recalled you travelling this far all on your own, only to face continuous mistreatment from him. Even if you had already forgiven him—you weren't even angry at him in the first place, you had to be crazy for that—Seonghwa would never forgive himself for his actions. He would be spending the rest of his days trying to make up for it.

That night, he experienced another restless bout of sleep, tossing and turning as the endless imagined scenes of you being tortured, starved, and treated like cattle haunted his mind. At some point during the night, he couldn't resist the impulse and walked over to your quarters, standing by the entrance like a fool, contemplating whether he should knock.

But he quickly realised that you must not have had any decent rest for who knows how long, and here he was, on the verge of disturbing you just because he couldn't sleep. Gosh, how selfish could he be?

He trudged back to his own room, trying to focus on the thought of you being soundly asleep in your new and comfy bed. Thankfully, this image managed to bring a smile to his face, and just like that, he gradually joined you in dreamland.

"Good morning, mistress! We're here to help you get ready. May we please enter?" Your eyes fluttered open as Eunsook's voice reached you, and a yawn escaped your mouth after having what felt like the most amazing sleep for the first time in years.

You were tempted to hop off your bed and rush to open the door for them, but then you remembered you weren't supposed to do so. Clearing your throat, you answered politely, "Yes, you may enter."

The servants bowed, unable to hide their smiles upon seeing you sitting up on your bed, still marvelling at the grand interior of your new room despite having already spent one night there.

Unbeknownst to you, the maids had been competing to be chosen to serve you. In just your third day here, you had become the most precious figure in the entire estate, and everyone wished to work under you. This particular group of maids had been selected, and their excitement was palpable as they enthusiastically bathed, dressed, and fixed your hair and makeup for the day.

On the other hand, the less fortunate few found themselves assigned to prepare the general for the day. Especially now, with Jongho, the only one capable of handling Seonghwa, engaged in special duties elsewhere, they had no choice but to put up with their master, even as their hearts yearned to be in the House of Lotus.

The morning unfolded with remarkable ease, thanks to your presence. Your husband proved more manageable than usual, his typical grogginess dissipating as he witnessed your excitement over breakfast. It made him both happy and sad—happy to see you so easily satisfied but sad at the realisation of the deprivation you had endured. Your genuine appreciation for even the most basic necessities was a testament to your difficult past.

Repeatedly, he had to remind himself that your history was just that—history. There was nothing he could do to alter it. But he was your present and future, and he would do everything to ensure you had nothing but the best moving forward.

Having already provided you with the best quarters on his estate, the next step was to adorn you in the finest clothes in all of Joseon. Whether or not you arrived with clothing from your old home was irrelevant to him; he would have burned every piece of it to the ground regardless. His goal now was to ensure that, at first sight, everyone would recognise you as the esteemed and beloved wife of the terrifying General Park.

Waiting for you by his carriage, he was not disappointed by your reaction to the vehicle as he assisted you inside. Your eyes widened, and your jaw fell in astonishment as you took in the spacious interior. Usually, he kept the carriage's small windows closed, but anticipating your excitement, he left them open. A subtle smile played on his lips as you gazed in awe at the passing scenery.

Cute.

The dressmaker's shop was situated in the middle of a lively street in town, requiring the two of you to cover the remaining distance on foot while the carriage and its coachmen awaited your return. Accompanied by two servants trailing closely behind, the four of you began making your way through the bustling crowd.

While Seonghwa found himself irritated by the unending stares drawn by both of your extraordinary visuals, your attention was captivated by the surroundings.

This marked your first visit to the town, evident from your childlike fascination, a source of amusement for the observing servants who shared delighted giggles. Throughout the journey, your husband ensured a tight grip on your hand, apprehensive about the possibility of losing you in the busy crowd.

The commoners, oblivious to your identities, continued their activities nonchalantly. Little did they know they were looking at the famous General Park and his new wife. If your true status were known, the street might have cleared within seconds.

Growing weary of the continuous gazes, the general promptly guided you towards the shop he intended to visit.

Upon entering, you were captivated by the array of colourful and elegant hanbok on display. The servants remained close by, engaging in lively discussions about their preferred designs. Typically, Seonghwa would disapprove of his employees being so casual around him, but witnessing the joy on your face as you excitedly joined in on their conversation, he couldn't bring himself to reprimand the two maids. Sighing, he moved further into the establishment, searching for the owner.

Spotting the familiar back hunched over work at the rear of the salon, he couldn't help but roll his eyes before saying, "I still don't understand why you won't hire a helper. You could be robbed in broad daylight, for all we know. You weren't even aware you have a customer, being busy back here."

Turning around with a raised brow, the dressmaker countered, "You're wrong, Park Seonghwa. I didn't bother heading out because I knew it was you. That's how good I am, and that's why I don't need to spend unnecessarily on a helper."

Before the general stood an old friend from his early military days, one who had decided the life of a soldier was not his path and had pursued his passion in fashion, "Yes, yes. It's nice to see you too, Kim Hongjoong. Good to know you haven't changed much."

The shorter man grinned deviously at his friend's sarcastic response, glancing at you, "Aye, I haven't. Unlike you, General Park."

Hongjoong set his tools down and continued, "Heard you finally got married, and I didn't believe it, not until today. That lovely woman over there, that's her, isn't it? She must be quite the special one for you to accompany her all this way. This isn't like you at all. The Seonghwa I know would never waste his time coming here."

If there was one thing your husband did not miss about his friend, it was his relentless teasing. He rolled his eyes again when it went on, "You know, I really thought I'd never get to see you again, but here you are, all because of her."

Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest, "One more word from you, Hongjoong, and you can kiss this business deal goodbye. Don't come crying to me when I end up employing another dressmaker for all of my wife's clothing."

Jaws falling slack, Hongjoong exclaimed, "Hold on, did I hear that right? All of your wife's clothing?"

The general smirked, "Yes, you heard correctly. I'm hiring you for the long term, enough for you to shut down your shop and work exclusively for my estate."

Hongjoong chuckled, "Closing my shop might be a stretch, but a steady income is tempting. I'm on board. You have good taste, Seonghwa. I assure you won't regret hiring me. I'll make Lady Park the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon, mark my words."

"Excellent. I'm counting on it, Hongjoong."

As pleased as your husband was to have secured a reliable dressmaker for you, there are moments when he regrets such decisions. He experiences a sense of déjà vu as he observes you interacting with his friend, recalling the uneasy feeling he had witnessing your reaction to Yunho.

"My lady, it seems my task is already defined. Your beauty is already exceptional, and I'm afraid I won't have to work too hard to enhance it at all." Hongjoong has always been quite the charmer, and Seonghwa disliked that he was using it on you, his wife, of all people.

The blush on your face, as adorable as it was, irked the general at the moment, as he wasn't the reason for it. He watched, unamused, as the dressmaker smugly took your measurements.

Contrary to your calm and oblivious demeanour, the two maids were keenly aware of their master's internal fury, manifested in the glares he shot at his friend. They trembled at the thought of his wrath, unaware that Hongjoong was the only one audacious enough to tease the general without fearing severe consequences. The two had always shared what people termed a love-hate relationship.

Other than you, your husband and the servants felt a sense of relief once the dressmaker completed noting your measurements, checking your design preferences, and determining which colours suited your skin tone best.

"Alright, it looks like we're done for now. I'll do my best to deliver the first batch of dresses to your estate by next week. Is that okay?" Seonghwa softened as soon as he recognised his friend's serious and professional side, nodding quickly, "That sounds perfect. Thank you, Hongjoong."

The shorter man gave him a sincere smile, "No, thank you, Seonghwa. I mean it in a good way when I say you've changed. Your wife is lovely, by the way. I'll be seeing you soon, my friend."

As the four of you made your way out of the shop, the general's irritation resurfaced as quickly as it had dissipated just moments ago when Hongjoong sent you a flirty wink, "Have a safe journey back. I can't wait to see you again, Lady Park."

Cutting short your innocent wave, Seonghwa swiftly wrapped a strong arm around your back and guided you away, not missing his friend's annoying laughter, "Let's go; the carriage is waiting." He grumbled, jealousy and petty anger flooding his veins.

But those emotions vanished as soon as you both got into the vehicle, the rhythmic rocking motion lulling you into drowsiness. In your sleepy state, your head landed on his shoulder, and you whispered, "Thank you, Seonghwa. I had fun today."

He pulled you closer, ensuring your comfort, and pressed his lips against your hair.

"Anything for you, my wife."

« Preview of Part 7 »

"Can you all believe this? Just a few days into marriage, and the general has already sent word to His Majesty that he has an important agenda to discuss in our next assembly?" The minister guffawed, downing a glass of rice wine in amusement.

His wife grinned slyly, "Do you reckon it has anything to do with her?"

"Oh, I bet it has everything to do with her!" Jinah chortled.

"He must have been so disgusted by the sight of her bare from all that makeup," Jinhee shook her head before panicking, "Wait a damn minute, what if he asks to swap her for one of us?"

Jinjoo whined, "Father, you better not agree to that if it happens!"

"You silly girls, your father would never let any of that happen. Right, honey?" Their mother drawled, curling up to her husband seductively. The mere thought of your potential misery brought them satisfaction.

Minister Jang nodded, "Don't worry, girls. Knowing Park Seonghwa, he most likely would not entertain the idea or ask for anything like that. We'll just have to wait and see what he wishes to talk about. This should be interesting."

"That better be the case." Jinhee muttered, arms crossed.

Jinah smirked, "Or who knows, he's already disposed of her and decided the only right thing to do is to report it."

Cruel laughter echoed through the dining hall of the Jang estate as your family speculated on the possible whereabouts of your remains. None of them noticed the mole within their staff, attentively listening to every word.

I know you're all probably dying to know Minister Jang's secret but what fun will it be for y'all to find out so soon, am I right?😝 Not to worry though, I promise it'll all be revealed in due time.

Thank you so much for 900+ followers! As always, hope you enjoyed and let me know all your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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uglypastels · 2 years

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Following the Herd // dark!cult!Eddie x reader

summary: Eddie Munson has never been anything but sweet and caring to you. He had always made sure you were alright and safe and always helped you with anything you asked for. So now, that he needed you, how could you possibly refuse?

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ THIS FIC AND IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THE SOUND OF THEM, DO NOT READ IT. if you do and still have any complaints about the content that has been tagged, that's on you. <3

word count: 14k

warnings the occult and cult stuff. blood. ritual sacrifices. inflicting non-lasting injury on self/others. subliminal indoctrination. Manipulation and taking advantage of the naive and innocent reader. Eddie is protective, possessive and controlling. has issues. mention of character death [the Creels]. mention of drinking, smoking and drugs.

Explicit Content! 18+ only. Minors DNI! fem reader. PIV sex. unprotected sex (big no-no). heavy s/d dynamic. thigh riding. extended orgasm denial. overstimulation. innocence and corruption kink + virginity. knife kink (kinda). spitting. oral [f receiving]. debatable dacryphilia. blindfold. Eddie's handcuffs. praise. "whore" x1.

If I missed out on any warnings, I severely apologise. Please let me know and I will add them

"Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails

Just call me Lucifer

'Cause I'm in need of some restraint"

-the Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil

The thing one must understand about Eddie Munson is that he never meant for anything bad to happen. On the contrary, he had nothing but good intentions for you, for anyone. He was a kind, deeply caring person who wanted nothing but the best for others. It was not his fault that people didn't understand him.

So what? He didn't dress like all the other conservative assholes in town. He was different and dared to speak up for himself; since when is that a crime? He had his beliefs to fight for, just like anyone else; why would that make him the bad guy? People have started wars over way less, and yet, Eddie had been the one cast out from society, branded as a monster. He, who had never done anything wrong in his life.

You knew like no other how wrong these misconceptions about him were, having experienced his kindness first-hand. It was only a year ago, but it could have been a lifetime. It was almost a coincidence how he found you at that party over spring break. There were so many people, and the music was so loud, that it was easy to get disorientated. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of liquor, making you sick. He had helped you then. It was Eddie who took your hand and led you outside into the fresh and cold night air.

'You alright?' He looked deep into your eyes with a soft smile, to which you could only smile sheepishly. Maybe that is how he had thought of his cute nickname for you? 'What's a cute little lamb like you doing out here, all alone, anyway?'

'I'm here with my friends. Just… seemed to have misplaced them somewhere.' You had laughed, not wanting to show how scary that had actually been. The music from inside the house was still blasting, beating against your chest. Eddie nodded in understanding.

'You've got to be careful, sweetheart, don't want to lose yourself to this chaos.' He brushed some hair out of your face; your skin was burning up from how warm it had been in the house. You only noticed it when compared to the cold touch of his hand. His eyes were still on you, focused, the deep dark of his irises pulling you in. 'Haven't been drinking, have we?' He smiled innocently, clearly teasing, intensifying the burning heat in your cheeks.

'No.' You could say it earnestly, but the reasons behind your honesty felt a bit embarrassing. You almost didn't want to admit that you had never had a drink before and were still apprehensive about alcohol. He would surely think it's silly, to be 18 and never even have had a beer or a shot. There were so many things you still hadn't done, in fact, that he would probably see as normal.

But his smile grew bigger, and he almost sounded proud when he continued with the conversation: 'Good. Good. You don't want that stuff in you.'

'I don't?' You blinked as he shook his head. Anyone else would have told you to suck it up, but not him.

'No, all it will do is ruin that pretty mind of yours. And we don't want that, do we?' His voice made your heart flutter in excitement, which proved everyone else's suspicions wrong. Because no evil could make you feel that good, could it?

And it never really stopped. Neither the feeling you felt when you were around him nor how he treated you. Eddie had a very protective and caring nature. He needed to be sure you were safe and alright. At school, he would ensure you ate your lunch, had a good night's sleep the night before, and weren't too cold or too warm. He invited you to hang out a lot– an offer you could hardly refuse. He walked you home and would help you with your homework or take you back to his trailer, where he would play you songs on his guitar. The music he listened to sure was different from what you were used to. Heavy, gritty and dark, but all of that talk that it was Satan's music was ridiculous. Anyone who would listen to a few bars of it could know that. And the artistry of these musicians was also undeniable.

Eddie had never expected you to enjoy his kind of music as much as you did, but it brought the biggest smile to his face, which, in turn, made you that much happier. You couldn't get enough of his happiness and could do anything for it. It would be the fair thing to do, considering everything Eddie's done for you...

When your parents found out you had started hanging out with a boy like Eddie Munson, they were, quite honestly, scared. They did not want his likes to influence you, making you stray down to a dark and dangerous lifestyle.

But it couldn't be further away from the truth.

Eddie ensured you stayed away from things such as alcohol or drugs, even cigarettes. He didn't even want you talking about it, didn't want you anywhere near the stuff. And even though he used all of it, he made sure to never do it around you. He would hide away the weed and the liquor bottles in his trailer, and he'd control his need to smoke until you had left.

'It's too late for me, I'm beyond saving, but that doesn't mean you have to go down that path too.' He would say, stroking your hair, if you ever asked why he was so adamant about keeping you away from these vices. 'Can't have my little lamb be ruined like that.' And he would kiss your forehead, ring-clad hand upon your cheek. His rips were usually chapped, and fingers roughly calloused, but you didn't mind. His touch still felt divine.

Eddie protected you from more than just these substances. He knew you were not the most experienced in living life, which was something he appreciated and praised, but the shock on his face when you had told him you had never even had your first kiss… the idea of that made his head spin. It excited him more than he had ever thought imaginable, but it also scared him. Since he had found that out about you, you had noticed how much more protective he had gotten over you around certain people. It was cute, how possessive he got when other guys looked at you.

'Believe me, baby, they're no good for you.' He would hold you close, turning your back to whoever had been trying to catch your eye. 'Guys like that… they only have one thing on their mind.'

'What's that?' you asked, but he never gave you a direct answer. It was nothing his little lamb should be worried about. You were his pure, innocent girl, and he couldn't have the evils of others corrupt you. He wanted what's best for you.

He really did make you feel safe and comfortable, in a way no one had ever done before. You felt like you could tell him anything, no matter how personal or embarrassing. Things you wouldn't dare tell any other guy.

'Uhm, Eddie,' you mumbled one time. You were in your bedroom, sitting on the ground with your backs against your bed. Eddie had you sitting between his legs. His hands around your middle, rubbing small circles on the bare piece of skin between where your shirt and trousers met. The sensation it left on you spread across your whole body in sparks, particularly between your legs, making it very hard to focus on the book you had been trying to read.

'Something wrong?' He asked, head propped up on your shoulder as he spoke, so his words came out with his warm breath against your neck, not helping your situation.

'I uh–' you were flustered; the only thing you could think about was how his fingers were creeping over your stomach, inching your waistband. 'Nevermind.'

'No, no, sweetheart. Now you got to tell me.'

'It's a bit warm in here, don't you think?' You breathed out slowly.

'Not really.' He shrugged. 'But you can open a window if you want.'

You took the opportunity to get away from his touch. Not that you minded it or that it wasn't pleasant. On the contrary, you had to escape it because of how good it felt. You had never felt like this before. Hot and bothered, all over. It wasn't something you were used to or even knew how to handle.

'Are you sure, you're alright?' Eddie asked once you came back to sit in his lap. You hummed out a response, but he could tell it wasn't all true. 'C'mon, it's me. You can tell me, can't you?' Of course, you could. You could tell Eddie anything, that much you knew.

'I just– feel a bit hot. That's all.' It still all felt a bit silly. A bit difficult to put into words.

'Hot?' He asked for a clarification, to which you only nodded your head. You looked down at your lap, embarrassed even though you knew there was nothing to be ashamed about. Eddie wrapped his arms around you, but his hands were low, pressing at the hem of your trousers, and it wasn't making matters any better.

'What are you doing?' You gasped when you felt him slip past the material of your shorts, fingers sliding over your panties slowly. You arched your back in anticipation; it was an automatic, subconscious reaction. Still, it felt wrong, though. He had always told you how that part of you was sacred, off limits for others.

Others. Yes.

Not him.

'I just need to check something.' His voice was a mere hush as his fingertips brushed over your core, just the thin layer of cotton keeping up the barrier between you. But he wouldn't actually touch you there. Not yet. He couldn't ruin you like that. It would be inconsiderate and selfish, and that's not who Eddie was. He just wanted what's best for you.

'You are burning up, baby,' he clicked his tongue when his fingers added some pressure to the touch. Your back stiffened, and you held your breath, unsure what to do. 'I wish I could help, but I can't right now.' Of course, you would never actually protest anything he did, knowing he had his valid reasons, but you wished he hadn't pulled away.

'Why not?' your voice was shaky.

'It's not the right time,' he pressed you back against his chest, taking in your sweet scent. Your shampoo, your perfume, even the ink of the pen you had been writing with for the past few hours, and your arousal– all mixed into something that could only be described as you.

'Right time?' you weren't sure what he meant by that, but Eddie talked a lot about funny things that you didn't understand. Mostly, it was about the game he played at school with his friends, Dungeons and Dragons. He had tried to explain it to you several times, and most of it was easy enough to grasp, but he could talk on about it for ages, and it was almost as if he was pulling you into a trance of attention. Words would lose their meaning as you were too focused on Eddie himself. The sound of his voice and his movements– he always used his hands to emphasise what he said. And maybe it was for the better you didn't understand everything that was happening in the club.

Not that it mattered, anyway. It was nothing his little lamb should be worried about.

'Yeah, got to wait a bit, sweetheart. Patience is a virtue, isn't that what they always say? And believe me, if you wait a bit longer, it will be so worth it.'

'How long?' you already didn't want to wait. His featherlight touch had been enough to ignite a fire in you. But, unfortunately, it wasn't enough to subside whatever feeling was gnawing at you there. If anything, the memory of his touch only made it worse. You needed more.

'Not too long. I'll let you know when it's time, ok?' He started rubbing his hand over your arm. 'But you got to promise me one thing.'

'Of course.' Anything for Eddie. He knew what was best.

'Do not touch yourself there, ok? It might be difficult because you might not feel much better without it, but it will feel so wonderful in the end. I promise.' He made plenty of these kinds of promises and had held up to them every single time. That was another reason you trusted him; everyone else was simply wrong in their perceptions. An evil person would not keep to their promises as Eddie did.

Eddie cared

Deeply

About you.

So you listened to what he asked of you, nearly blindly.

The feeling inside of you grew much to your frustration, but you kept your promise to Eddie. The days went on rather slowly, not helping your problem, and neither did Eddie. His touches seemed to linger more than they used to. He was always at your side, keeping you close to him; that didn't change that much. But he would let his hands wander over your body.

Perhaps he was nervous about something, and the way he coped was to draw invisible shapes all over your body when he had his arms wrapped around you. He'd mumble to himself, little nonsense things you couldn't make out. He also got a bit forgetful; at lunchtime, he would forget to save you a seat, leading you to have to sit in his lap. Not that you minded. But what was a bit frustrating was how antsy he had gotten, letting his leg bouncing up and down. (What was he so nervous about?) Other times you wouldn't have minded, but how his jeans grazed over your sensitive and already frustrated core made you want to cry out.

'Eddie, could you maybe stop that? Please?' You looked up at him, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat.

'Sorry, baby,' He stopped, but the friction was just replaced by the hand he had put on your thigh. So many people were around you, all chatting and enjoying their free time out of class, yet there was only him for you. His big brown eyes sucked you into a place where it was just the two of you. So you weren't even embarrassed when he asked you: 'have are you feeling? Been a good little lamb for me?'

'Yes.' As if on cue, you couldn't help but rub your legs together, needing some kind of stimulus to keep you away from that burning feeling between your legs. It had been going on for days, only getting stronger, and you could do nothing about it.

Your action didn't escape Eddie's vision, and he was quick to pull your legs apart. However, his hand remained sturdily between them.

'Haven't been touching yourself?' He wasn't whispering or trying not to be heard, but no one was paying attention really anyway. But even if they had, you didn't care.

'No. Of course not.' He would ask you the same question each day, and each day you could happily respond. Even if every time it got harder and harder to do. 'But… Eddie–'

'Hmm?' he hummed, pushing some hair out of your face with the hand that had not settled over the warm gap between your thighs.

'I feel like it's just getting worse,' your voice was almost lost in the ocean of others, but he heard you, and he smiled softly as you continued. 'I don't know how much longer–' but that is where he cut you off.

'I know, baby. I know. But you're not ready yet, and we don't want all of this to go to waste, do we?' He looked you in the eyes until you shook your head in agreement; what you agreed to, however, was a bit vague. 'But it's not much longer anymore, and then just think of how good it will feel. Your reward will be grand.'

'Reward?' He had never even said anything about a reward.

'Oh, of course. My little lamb deserves a prize for behaving this well.' He squeezed you into a tight hug, pulling you in. You could feel his thumb press against your sensitive bud again for just a second, but you pushed aside the urge for more. He propped you up, helping you sit up better in his lap, but this again only made you feel his hand on you more prominently. His lips were nearly against your jaw when he spoke up again. 'How about you come over to my place later, and I'll try to help you with your problem, hmm? A… little taste of what's to come?'

'Are you sure?' You didn't want him to do anything that could end up hurting either of you. If he said, you weren't ready…

'Yeah, I can't have you walking around like this, all flustered. It's making all the other guys stare.'

'What?' This made you stiffen up a bit. Why were they all staring at you? Could they tell, see even, how enkindled you were? You hadn't thought so.

'Shh, it's alright. I'll take care of them. Don't you worry.' He would make sure you were safe, that much you knew. 'Meet me at the car later. I'll drive us home.' The bell for the next class would ring soon, and you wouldn't see Eddie until after school ended. Those were always the hardest times of the day, besides maybe when you were lying in bed alone, wishing he was with you to help you fall asleep and make that ache between your legs finally disappear.

The classes were almost impossible for you to get through, as all you could think of was Eddie. Minutes were passing by so slowly, that you wanted to scream. Was no one else upset about how time just did not seem to move forward? That could not be possible. But, then again, you were the only one irking to get out of there to meet Eddie in the parking lot.

You practically jump into his arms. The wind blew in your face, bringing his dark locks along and tickling your neck. He smelled like incense and his musky cologne. Someone like him should have something more bitter about him, you had thought at be beginning of your friendship, but Eddie was sweet. Not just in his actions, but in everything else around him. Because even with that smokey scent, mixed with his cologne, there was still a sweetness around him that you could not identify. It pulled you in, the familiarity of it, and yet you could never quite place it in your mind as to what it was.

Eddie's hand never left your body as he drove you to the trailer park. You loved when he drove his car, but it was also frustrating that his hand was all he could give you. His eyes were, of course, entirely concentrated on the road ahead, and you missed them.

Fortunately, the drive wasn't too long, and before you knew it, he led you out to his trailer, into the back of it, where his room was. It was messy, like most days, and there were things strewn about all over the place, which Eddie tried to sort out as he went along. He picked something up that looked like a long glass vase from next to his bed and put it in his closet.

'What was that?' you asked curiously as he sat down on the bed. You were still standing by the door.

'That? Oh, nothing, baby. Just c'mere.' He held out his hand for you to take once you had made your way over to him. You were ready to sit down, but Eddie pressed the palm of his other hand over your stomach, keeping you up. 'Hmm, no. Wait up.' He took both your hands in his, kissing your knuckles. 'Before we start, I need you to listen, really carefully, to me. I got to know you understand.'

Eddie rarely spoke in such a serious manner, so it made you a bit nervous. He held your hands tightly, and you stood between his spread legs. He looked up at you, almost with pleading eyes, as if he didn't know that you were already listening to him intently, taking in each word he gave you desperately, never wanting him to stop giving you his attention or time.

'I'm listening, Eddie, always,' you smiled, and he hugged out a little laugh.

'This is just really important to me,' he chuckled lightly again, 'I want to make you feel good, sweetheart, but I can't make that feeling that is bothering you go away just yet. It shouldn't go away just yet, because you're not ready, we're not ready… but we can do something to help with it; for now, does that sound alright?'

'Yes.' Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as he kissed your knuckles again.

'Good, come sit here,' he tapped onto his right thigh, and you sat down, but apparently not in the way he had meant for you to do, as he laughed. 'No, baby. Like this. Here.' He shuffled a bit back onto the bed and made you sit with your legs on either side of his, locking him in between you. He put his hand on your hip, pushing you into him. The material of your jeans pressed into you, releasing some of the tension that had been building up in you over the past few days. Then, with his guidance, you started moving your hips over his leg.

'Feels good, doesn't it?' Eddie asked, and you nodded your head quickly. 'Yeah, and it will only feel better the longer you keep doing it. Go a bit faster– that's it.'

'It– oh my- aah,' you gasped out at this foreign sensation that rushed through your body. 'Thank you,' the words came out with a heavy breath of air as you found your rhythm.

'You're very welcome, sweetheart. You've been doing so well for me, haven't you? Deserve a little treat.' Your faces were nearly at the same level with you on his lap, and his mouth ghosted over yours. You could feel it there, not even an inch apart, but he couldn't– no matter how much he wanted to kiss your perfect lips, they would remain untouched for now. But it wouldn't be long anymore. Soon, he would make all this wait worthwhile.

'Keep going as long as you want, baby,' the sight of you pleasuring yourself on his thigh made him short circuit, but he had to keep his mind clear.

'It feels–' you didn't know how to describe the feeling that started to overcome you. You were tensing up again. Suddenly the release you felt from this friction didn't feel as satisfying anymore. It was urging you on to keep going, to tense that tight feeling in you until it snapped, but it was getting worse. Finally, you had to squeeze your eyes shut. 'Eddie!'

'Woah, Woah, Woah.' He halted your hips tightly. 'Stop.'

'What-' you were confused, not sure what had happened. The tight feeling in your gut loosened, but the satisfaction you had felt also reclined.

'You were close, weren't you?' He asked, and you weren't entirely sure what he meant by "close", but somehow, on a deeper level, you knew that that is what you had felt, and so nodded a bit meekly. Eddie nodded along in understanding. 'See, you're not ready for that yet, baby. So if you feel it again, you got to tell me and stop, got it? If you feel that tightness coming, do not keep going. It can be too much for you right now, I don't want you to ger hurt.'

'I get it,' a lump formed in your throat again.

'Alright. Do you want to do it again?' He squeezed your hips, and you bit your lip. You did want to keep going, as it did feel amazing when you could release some of that tension your body had built up. Eddie just wanted to help you; it wasn't his fault that he couldn't get rid of this hollow feeling inside you. He did everything he could to make you feel as good as possible. He let you writhe over his leg for an eternity, replaying the cycle of your pleasure, letting you inch toward that unattainable high. Every time you felt the knot in your stomach, you would gasp out his name, and he would hold you still. It was torture you brought upon yourself to keep going over and over again, but it felt so good. It didn't matter that you could never actually get it to completion. That initial feeling of bliss compensated for the pain of unfulfillment.

'You're so good for me. My sweet little lamb, always listens so well.' Even if there was nothing to inherently pleasure Eddie, he still felt fantastic. Seeing you like this made him feel like never before, and to see you obey his requests as you did… it was pure euphoria.

Tears were stinging your eyes, but he was quick to brush them away, right at the corners of your eyes. You could not possibly go on much longer. Your grip on his shoulder weakened, and your hips started jutting forward haphazardly, exhausted.

'Eddie,' you gasped out a final time; you didn't even have energy left in you to reach that edge anymore. Your body shut down as you fell forward into Eddie. He fell back, holding on to you as his back hit the mattress.

'Did so good, baby. So good.' He held you tightly as you caught your breath. You were shaking, so he grabbed the covers and pulled them over you.

'I– thank you.' You nuzzled deeper into his hold. No words were exchanged for a while. His arms stayed wrapped around you, caressing your back gently as the seconds on the clock ticked by.

'How are you feeling?' He eventually asked, whispering, in case you had fallen asleep on top of him. But you answered, voice weak and tired:

'I'm alright.' Everything was still spinning a bit; you couldn't quite tell up from down. The only thing grounding you was Eddie. He started to draw more random shapes over your back, mumbling nothings to himself, and you were ready to doze off. Peace was coming over you. Then his voice turned up a bit louder as he spoke directly to you.

'I'm so proud of you.' It was still a whisper, but his voice vibrated through his throat.

'Thank you, Eddie.'

'Mmm, did so good, you know what?' He kissed your forehead. 'How about we go to the mall tomorrow. Get you something nice?'

Your head shot up in the excitement, and you looked into his eyes. 'Is– that my reward?'

'No, I just want to spoil you,' he chuckled, petting your hair flat, 'Your reward will be so much better. Just you wait.' He rolled over to his side, taking you along so you'd fall onto the mattress beside him. 'Want me to take you home?' He asked, and you had nodded yes, and maybe had even said it, but your eyelids were so heavy, and you were so tired, that soon sleep came over you, and you had never felt quite as peaceful as you had in his arms.

Eddie not once thought of letting you go. He did what he had to do to keep you close and safe.

His pure and innocent little lamb.

All his.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

The next day, he did indeed take you shopping. It was a lovely day full of sunshine, and he held your hand as you walked past stores. Even if you hadn't realised it, he already had something in mind he wanted to get you, and it just so happened to be at one store you frequented.

He watched you go through the racks of clothing and smiled anytime he caught your eye. He had to pull you back. Otherwise, you would have missed the one thing he had wanted you to see.

'How about this one?' He picked a dress up from the hanger. It was a long and flowy white summer dress. You furrowed your brows, not having expected that to be his choice of outfit for you. It was neither his nor your style, yet he handed it to you with plenty of enthusiasm.

'Are you sure?' You asked, watching him nod his head adamantly.

'You'll look gorgeous, I can already tell.' he pressed the dress against you, looking at how it would look on you. 'Wanna go and try it on?'

'Yeah, of course,' you smiled, and the next thing you knew, Eddie was opening up the door to a dressing room for you. He hung the dress on a hook next to the mirror and closed the door behind him. He said he would be right there if you needed anything, and you knew it was true. He would be sitting right there in one of the fuzzy chairs, waiting for you to come out and spin around for him.

But unfortunately, the zipper in the back of the dress was not as easy to pull up as you thought, so you called out his name. Not a second later, Eddie popped his head inside the little room, eyes closed for your decency.

'It's alright, Eds,' you giggled, 'you can look. I just can't get the zipper up.'

'Ah, well, let me,' he came up to you, and his hands were on the small of your back, holding the two sides of the dress together so he could pull the zipper up. It was cold against your skin, and Eddie moved extremely slowly, not wanting to accidentally snag the fabric or get your hair caught in it. He pulled it all the way up and smoothed out the dress at your sides, not that you thought it had been that wrinkled. You had been facing the mirror, so he put his head on your shoulder to look along with you.

'Absolutely beautiful.' He whispered, imitating the confined intimacy of the dressing room. Your cheeks heated up at the compliment, but also because you did actually feel beautiful wearing the dress. It fitted perfectly, wrapping around your body at every angle. It was light, comfortable, soft… just the white colour felt slightly off for you. Eddie noticed this apprehension in your face. 'What's wrong, sweetheart?'

'I'm just not so sure about white. It doesn't really feel like me, does it?'

'Thought you might want to try something new. And just look how good it looks on you.' Then, with a finger under your chin, he made you look in the mirror again, 'An angel.'

'Oh, Eddie,' you swung around to hug him. 'Thank you.' you mumbled the words against his chest.

'Anything for you, baby.' His hand moved up and down over your back.

After the dress shopping, the two of you walked around, with no real goal or destination in mind. The presence of each other was more than enough. But as the day went on, you couldn't help but feel down. Eddie had done so much for you over time, especially in the recent days; you wanted to repay him somehow. Show him that you cared for him just as much as he cared about you. Did he even know that you would do anything for him? You hoped so.

You kept on thanking him as the day went on, which only made him laugh. The message had been quite clear after the first three times, and now it was becoming almost excessive. But he could never complain either, loving how much you appreciated him, but enough was enough. Surely.

'I just wish I could do something in return.'

'You really don't need to.' He cupped your face in the palm of his hand.

'But I want to.' You persisted. 'There must be something I could do for you.'

'Not that I can think of, but if anything comes up, I will let you know.' And that was that. You didn't want to press on the matter; why nag on a little thing like that, ruin what would be a lovely day? So, you went and had coffee at a café on Main Street, where Eddie again demanded to pay the bill, and then he drove you back home. Only when the car stopped in front of your driveway did you realise that this had been the longest time you had ever spent with Eddie: Almost an entire day. And it had also been one of the best days ever. Not because of how he had spoiled you– you couldn't care less about that stuff– but because you had not once stopped smiling. With him, you felt like you were on cloud nine, seventh heaven, paradise, and you never wanted it to stop.

'What are you doing tomorrow?' you asked hopefully. It would be a Sunday then, and like most Sundays, you would have nothing to do. Eddie tapped the steering wheel.

'I got some things to take care of. Nothing too exciting.' Perhaps he saw your deflated expression. 'We'll hang out another time, yeah? I'll see you at school.' If you had been two different people, you would have leaned in and kissed goodbye, but instead, Eddie cupped your face again and tapped your cheek lightly with his hand. You did lean into his touch, not wanting it to leave you, but it always did at some point.

'I'll miss you.' You pouted, which he mimicked.

'And I'll miss you too, but this thing– it's really important. I can't miss it, and it will most likely take me the whole day–'

'Why don't I help you?' You interrupted as the idea jumped to your mind. 'Then we can still spend time together and maybe you might even finish sooner.'

'Oh, you don't want to–'

'But I do,' you persisted. This was your chance. You could finally prove to Eddie how much he meant to you.

'Are you sure?' Eddie raised his brow inquisitively. You nodded your head once but very clearly, indicating your standpoint. He couldn't get rid of you even if he tried. He knew it too, as seen through the deep sigh he took, but he was smiling. Your persistence was adorable.

'Ok, fine. Do you know where the Creel House is?'

'The creepy old boarded-up building?' Yeah, you knew the Creel House. Everyone in town did. Everyone had heard the story of what had happened there all those years ago, and it still made you feel uncomfortable to think about it.

'I'll see you there at 5, ok? Wear the pretty dress we got today, too. I can't get enough of you in it.' And this time, he did lean in to kiss your cheek. Or, almost your cheek. It had been where he had intended for his lips to touch you, but it had only missed your own lips by less than an inch. The kiss was also just like all the other formalities. It probably lasted less than a second but left you wanting more. That warm feeling in your body resurfaced, much to your dismay. After yesterday, you had hoped it would stay hidden a bit longer, but apparently, one tiny featherlight kiss on the apple of your cheek was enough for it to come back up.

'Who knows,' Eddie took your hand, 'maybe tomorrow will be the day, too.'

'You mean–' you looked up at him with wide eyes.

'We'll see. Now go, sweetheart.' He left you thinking about it for the entire night. Were you finally ready? Would this unbearable ache in your pit finally disappear? You hoped so. You were jittery with excitement about the next day. You could barely sleep, even though you knew Eddie wouldn't appreciate that (he always needed you to be well rested). And then the morning came, and you couldn't get a bite of your breakfast down your throat as you jumped in your seat from anticipation. You knew it was silly, but after all this time, you finally got a chance to show Eddie everything. And you had waited for weeks to touch yourself, and it was as if your body could tell that the waiting time was almost over.

It was almost over; you told yourself as you made your way to the house. You were too early; you knew that, but better too early than too late. Maybe Eddie would already be there, and then… that is when you realised you actually had no idea what you were coming into the house for. What did he want you to do there?

A harsh wind blew, pulling at the hem of your dress, which you had to hold not to let the street see your backside. The steps to the porch creaked under your footsteps, and the door you knew was once covered in wooden boards was now broken open. The beautiful stained-glass window was broken into shards, with a large hole in the middle– exactly where the rose used to bloom daily.

'Hello?' You called out as you stepped inside. The temperature immediately seemed to drop, and the air had a moist hint, thick with dust flying around you. Footsteps were coming from upstairs.

'Baby?' It was Eddie, and the sound of his voice immediately made all your worries go away.

'Yes! It's me!' You wanted to tread the stairs, a large and eccentric staircase, but Eddie showed up at the top of it. His hair was fastened up with his black bandana. You had imagined he would appreciate your early arrival, but a grimace covered his face instead.

'You're early. I told you 5.' The old clock in the back of the hallway still clicked away and pointed to ten minutes to five, so you weren't that early.

'I'm sorry. I walked faster than I expected.'

'It's alright, just– just wait here. I'm almost ready.' Oh, was he setting something up for you? A surprise? Your reward? It brought back all these fluttery feelings in your stomach.

You could hear Eddie shuffling around the upper floor, right above you. He was walking up and down the room, carrying things around. You wanted to go up and help him, but since he had told you to wait– you waited. Five minutes went by, ten, fifteen, and you were getting restless at the bottom of these tall stairs. With each creak in the floorboards, you hoped Eddie would appear again.

That only happened a bit later, when you glanced up and saw him walk out of a dark room. He grinned down at you, and your body screamed to run up those stairs, but again, you waited for him to let you.

'C'mere, I want to show you something.' And that is how you eagerly made your way upstairs finally. Eddie waited at the top step and watched how your dress flowed with your movements. Truly angelic, if such things existed. Holding you by the hand, he led you into the room he had just come out of.

All the large windows were plastered shut, covered with wooden planks or plastic tarps, and while that should have made the room pitch black, you could still see everything inside clearly. That is because Eddie had set up candles all over the surfaces near the large bed that stood in the middle of the room. The orange flames gave the room a warm glow, and it must have been the most romantic thing you had ever seen.

'Is this for me?' you glanced over at him, still in awe and shock. He laughed at this lightheartedly, squeezing your hand. It must have taken him hours to prepare all of this, but it was so worth it, you could tell him. The atmosphere brought to the room was fantastical, otherworldly.

Eddie led you to the centre of the room, where the candles on the ground were positioned in a circular shape, with just enough space for you to stand.

'You look beautiful, y/n,' Eddie spoke in a hushed whisper. 'Divine. My little lamb.' He pushed the hair out of your face again. Why did it always get in the way? Such a gorgeous face should not be covered up with anything, which is why he was glad you hadn't put on make-up today. You were standing in front of him in your purest form. The white dress accentuated it. 'You know why you're here, don't you?'

'Because you asked me to?' you spoke, voice shaking for some reason. The fire of the candles flickered on. In the dim light, you could make out some kind of graffiti painted on the walls, strange symbols you did not recognise.

'Yes, but I meant, why I asked you to come here.' The entire house had been left in its original state, never emptied out after the original owners had… left it. This meant that the old bedroom still had all its furnishings around. The bed was behind you, but you could also see a dresser and an armchair in the corner. Eddie walked up to the dresser and picked something up. Long, thin, the silver reflecting the golden flame light–

'Eddie?' You wanted to step back at the sight of the sharp knife but remembered the candles positioned all around you. 'What- what are you doing?'

'It's ok, baby. I'm not going to hurt you,' Eddie smiled kindly. He toyed with the sharp tip of the blade, twirling it against his hand. 'I would never hurt you. You know that, right?' You did know this, so you didn't bother to back away when he came closer. Eyes remained locked, ignoring the fire, the symbols, and the blade. There was just you and him. 'You know that, right?' Eddie repeated his question, to which you nodded. But he needed you to say it and hear your voice.

'Yes.' He only wanted what's best for you, to protect you. But, of course, he would never do you any harm.

'Good. Really, sweetheart, you don't know how happy I am I found you– you're so– you're just so perfect.' His perfect little lamb. All his. You couldn't tell if the heat burning inside you came from the candles or his words. 'You have always listened so well, always been so good. And you'll keep being good, won't you?'

'Mhm.' The power of longer words escaped you. Eddie cupped your cheek in his hand, patting it gently.

'Because I really need you to listen and do as I say, baby. This is really important to me.'

'But-' you pushed the words out, 'what are you doing?' You still couldn't quite make sense of the things around you. But Eddie smiled at your question, as if he had been expecting it, had wanted you to ask. Your hair was poking from behind your ears again, sticking at your cheek, which he brushed off. He could cut it right off with the knife in his hand– he always thought you would look prettier in shorter hair, it would frame your face so nicely– but it would probably not be appreciated. Maybe one day, if he asked nicely if you would still have him after today.

Of course, you would.

'We're going to heal the world, sweetheart.' He smiled his big gorgeous smile, but you were too caught up in his words. 'Restore the order of life, make everything wrong right again– you want to help me with that, don't you?'

'Well, yes, but–' the fire was heating up the room quickly, and you could feel it on your skin. The knife in Eddie's hand kept reflecting the light, making you look at it, but each time you would, Eddie would press his fingers into your cheek so you would find his eyes again.

'You don't have to be scared; I'm not going to hurt you. I need you to trust me, y/n.' The way your name flowed out of his lips, so smooth and sweet, you felt terrible just for having a thought of doubt ever sour mind. But even if you told yourself not to be scared, he did see that fear in your eyes. It was frustrating to see, because how many times could he comfort you? What would it take for you to understand him? Finally, he moved, turned slightly to the side, and the cold blade hit your arm. It did not cut or hurt, but it made you flinch.

'Eddie–' your voice was so weak, nothing like he was used to.

'Can I tell you a story?' He watched you nod your head. ''Humanity is a pest, y/n. We are poisoning our world with this structure and order, depending on these vices as if we were not the ones who had created them in the first place– there is nothing structural about us! We live our days just waiting for them to be over, numbing ourselves and telling lies to make it feel like it means something while it is entirely useless. It is hard to find a pure soul out there, yet… here you are.

'Me?' you couldn't possibly imagine why you would have anything to do with this. 'I don't understand–'

'You are at the centre of it all. My sweet sweet little lamb, fresher than fallen snow on a meadow. You are the prime example of what we all could be, a special gift. He sent you to me.' He had been gaining more and more energy and enthusiasm through his speech

'He?' You were starting to feel silly, being able to only respond with more questions and poorly phrased ones at that.

'Vecna,' he breathed out the word in a hush. You had heard him say the name before, but you had never questioned it, figuring it had just been one of the endless characters in his game. Eddie's eyes were bigger than you had ever seen them as he kept on talking passionately. 'He spoke to me, showed me everything. He was the one that made me realise just what a cruel and messed up world this is– and– and I'm not the only one. The people that lived here that died here… You know why they died, don't you? It had all been a part of this plan, you see. A… an offering. They gave their lives subject to a higher power. It was all for a greater cause.

'But they had not meant to die, it all just went so horribly wrong. They didn't know what they were doing, the Creels. But I do! Vecna told me and showed me everything I had to do in order to make this work. I've spent months making sure everything will go right, and you are the key. I need you to do this, y/n. Please.' In the time that you had met Eddie, you had seen a lot of sides to him. You had seen him be happy, sad, angry, tired, hyper, everything between and around it, but this was new. As he spoke to you, he almost seemed desperate. He was shaking with his words, purely out of the need to get his words out, for you to hopefully understand what he was trying to do.

The presence of the cold blade didn't get lost to you anymore, as you could feel it with every breath you took, pressing against your stomach with its flat side. You looked deeply into Eddie's eyes, trying to figure out what his intentions were with it, with you. Surely, he would not actually hurt you? That wasn't him. You could not imagine Eddie, your Eddie, doing such things as your scared mind was conjuring up at the moment.

'You wanted to help me, didn't you? This would be the most wonderful thing you could ever do for me, y/n. It would be glorious. Just think about it, when it works, the life we will have together. Vecna will show you, help you as well. You just have to let him, let me.'

Let me guide you, my little lamb.

Let me help you, my sweetheart.

Let me use you.

He needed you. Truly needed you, and only you. You stood there, in your white dress, surrounded by the golden flames of the melting candles, Eddie just far enough not to press his body into yours. As he waited for an answer, maybe bored or nervous, he started tracing the knife over you. The tip of it pinched at your skin, teasing, over your arm up to your collarbone, down your sternum. It had hagged on the strap of the dress, and you had been sure he would have snapped it right off. It would have probably been enough for the whole dress to fall apart. It would pool at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your underwear in front of him. The thought of it should be flooding you with fear, but to your surprise– it excited you. All of it did, in fact.

'What- what do you need me to do?' You pushed down the lump forming in your throat, but you didn't need much force for it as it dissolved at the sight of Eddie's relieved grin. He kissed the top of your head, the blade in the same hand he brushed your hair with, so you felt the steel at your ear. It made you shiver. You could hear him whisper some more of those little words he always mumbled, still unable to make any sense out of them. Then, he made you leave the circle of candles and walked you to the side of the room, where the symbols were painted onto the wall. It is then that you noticed that the black paint was still wet in spots, freshly applied, but long enough to have already dried up for the most part.

'Give me your hand,' he asked of you, and you eagerly obliged, placing your hand over his palm. But then he pulled that knife up again, and you flinched, which made him visibly upset with a frown.

'I'm sorry,' you apologised before he had even said anything.

'I understand, baby, all of this is new, but you have nothing to fear. I'm here, and I've always made sure you're safe, didn't I? Right, so you know you can trust me. Look–' he put up his own hand, flat in front of you, and dragged the sharp knife over the skin, breaking it from the centre of his palm, right to the edge. The blood immediately started to spill out, colouring his pale skin crimson. But what you focused on was how he had not winced, not twitched, barely moved a muscle as the blade penetrated his outer layer. His eyes had been focused on the cut, just to glance up at you momentarily, to ensure you were looking at him. He wiped the knife on his shirt, letting the cut drip out onto the wooden panels of the floor. 'See? It doesn't even hurt.' Then he wiped his hand on his t-shirt, smearing the blood all over it. With the small and shallow cut, it would dry up in a few minutes. There was really nothing to be scared of. Eddie never wanted to hurt you. He just wants what's best for you– what's best for everyone. Just like he had said: restore the world order, make what's wrong right again.

So, you held your hand out, steady. But as much as you trusted him, you couldn't get yourself to look as he pressed the blade into you. It stung as it moved over your palm.

'Open your eyes,' Eddie told you. You were greeted with dark red stains on your hand when you did. It was already pooling in the small cup of your manus, dripping between your fingers. It stung as if he had kept on cutting, even though you had heard him put the knife away. It was lying untouched on the set of vintage drawers now.

Eddie's next words were another request, as he guided your fingers to close in over your palm. 'Squeeze it.' And he pushed your fingers closed. You yelped at the shooting pain that came from it. The indentation splurged for more blood to come out. You saw flashes of white in front of your eyes as Eddie pressed it harder.

'You see it, don't you?' He asked you eagerly. You nodded, keeping your tears at bay. You didn't want him to see you cry, not when you didn't even mean to. It was just sort of happening.

Then, Eddie pulled you a step forward, pressing your bloody hand against the wall. This again pulled a wince out of you. It was so sensitive, and he pressed it so hard. He needed the blood to make its mark. He used you like a paintbrush, adding strokes of red over the black, making new symbols out of the already existing ones, finishing what he had started.

'Look how great this looks. And it could only be you, to make it all work. Only someone as pure and innocent as you has that kind of power.' He had everything prepared in advance, so when he dropped your hand from the wall, he reached for a towel that he had also placed on that dresser earlier. He pressed it into your hand, applying the right kind of pressure this time to hopefully stop the blooding rather than encourage its continuation. He took care of you, just like any other day, showing you that he was still your Eddie after all. There was nothing to be scared of.

'Is this it?' You looked up at him, the towel still wrapped around your hand. His sympathies peaked through the corners of his lips.

'Not just yet, baby. There's one more thing, but this we can do together, and I promise you'll enjoy it much more than this.'

'What is it?'

'You already started the cleansing process, but we have to show Him that we mean our loyalty, and for that, a sacrifice is needed– just a small one, don't be scared,' he hushed, taking the towel away. 'And don't be nervous. I know you will do well; I made sure of it. That's why we waited. Had to know you would be able to handle it, but you're ready now.' That funny feeling in the pit of your stomach emerged again, covering your body in a flash of heat. It was that frustrating sensation you just could not get rid of that even Eddie could not help you with… but now you were ready. So what the two of you did in his bedroom last Friday… the cycle would be complete. There would be no more torture and pleading for a release. He could bring you to it, finally.

'You're ready now.' Eddie didn't show it, as he repeated his last words, but he was conflicted about it all. It broke him to see you lose some of that innocence, but it had to be done, and it was an honour that he would be the one to do it. Better him, who understood the value of your purity, rather than some boy who would use you for his own pleasure. In a way, he was doing this to protect you, too. By letting you join him in his venture, he was ensuring safety for you. He would protect you. Vecna will protect you.

But for this, he actually had to make you his.

Again, holding your hand, he led you through the room. Avoiding the candles spread out over the floor, he got you to stand next to the bed. Both your hands were sticky with drying blood. The cut still burned when he squeezed at your hand, but neither of you showed any signs of discomfort.

He wondered if once this was all over, your eyes would still be full of the innocence he was so enamoured by. Would you still look at him with this naive bewilderment, or would he ruin you completely? If so, that would be his sacrifice. He would give up the pleasure of the sight for the sake of the greater good, naturally.

This would then perhaps be the last time you looked at him this way, so he would have to cherish it to the fullest extent. He let his fingers draw down your face, caressing the soft apples of your cheeks. Finally, his thumb moved over your chin, barely touching your bottom lip. How long he had needed to feel it, touch all of you, but held back. Now he finally could, though.

Too immersed in his deep brown eyes, you didn't see what was happening around them. You only heard him pull something out of his pocket– material. It was a handkerchief. But not the black skull he would wear often around the school. This one was white, like your dress. However, it was quickly getting tainted by the pink of the last remaining blood that could still transfer from his hands. How you had not noticed it on him before was a bit silly.

The material was smooth and pleasant to the touch, warm, as Eddie pulled it over your face. The metallic scent of blood wavered over it; no one could tell whether it was his or yours. Eddie tied it behind your head, making sure your eyes were covered, and just like that, you were enveloped in darkness.

'By taking away one sense,' he whispered into your ear, 'all the others get heightened. It is an experience like no other, to submit yourself to the elements. An honour. Now– ah.' He hadn't even needed to ask you anything, as when his thumb fell over your bottom lip, your mouth immediately parted, like an impulse, to let him enter. He pressed the finger over your tongue and watched you suck on it desperately. This was it—the first touch. Just like that, one simple act had already been enough to corrupt you.

'Sit down. On your knees. There we go, so good for me.' If he hadn't known better, if he hadn't made sure you never lied to him about what you have or have not done, he wouldn't have assumed you had experience, that you knew exactly what you were doing. That his little lamb was, in fact, just a whore like everyone else. But no, of course, you weren't. He had prepared you for this moment, let out what was only in your nature already. It was the right thing to submit to his touch like this.

But eventually, after a few seconds, he had to pull his hand away from you. The action came unexpectedly, and you were ready to follow him, even though you couldn't see where he had moved to. You tried your best trying to figure out what was happening, using those other heightened senses to their fullest potential. You could hear the flickering of the flames around you, and the burning smell came with it, which was still not strong enough to cover up the musky scent of Eddie, how the wooden floor dug at your knees, even through the fabric of your dress. And even though you could not see him, you could feel his presence towering over you.

It didn't matter how much you tried to focus on your surroundings; nothing would have prepared you for Eddie grabbing you by your chin to pull your face up, hollowing your already open mouth into a perfect little O-shape. Next thing you know, you heard a strange noise and felt something wet touch your mouth, spill into it. The sensation made you squirm, no idea what it was that Eddie had just done. You didn't know what to do.

'C'mon, baby. You know what to do when you have something in your mouth. Swallow.' He shut your mouth with his grip on it, helping you take the spit– because that's what it is, you realised– down your throat. He hummed in satisfaction through your whimpers. 'It's ok, baby. This is all a part of it. Got to get used to each other, it's all bonding.' He wanted to be closer to you, connected, and that idea warmed your heart. The way his hands then brushed over your hair, you nearly mewled into the touch.

Trying to position him was difficult, as he seemed to walk circles around you, his lips filled with those mysterious words and mumblings again. If you could see now, you would have stared at the ground or the hands you had placed over your lap. His flavour was still in your mouth, and it felt strange, but not in the wrong way.

He had walked another circle around you before stopping at your back. You felt the tension on the dress as he pulled at one of the straps, letting it slide down your shoulder. Then the other. Eddie undid the zipper from behind you as slowly as he had pulled it up the day before in the dressing room. Except for this time, you were not wearing a bra underneath it. It wasn't the kind of dress that would really work with one, you had thought in the morning. It certainly wouldn't look pretty, with the undergarment straps visible, and you wanted to look nice when seeing Eddie… so, that is how you ended up sitting on the floor in this old house, hands on your lap as Eddie pulled the dress off of your top half, revealing your breasts to the hot air.

'So beautiful.' he said, mumbling something under his breath again. 'Absolutely beautiful. He let his hand wander over to your chest, toying with the nipples, taking turns in giving attention to them. To think he was the first person to have the pleasure to touch you like this. To make you arch your back with just a simple pinch– oh, and the sounds that fell from your lips as he pulled at them, he started to feel the constraint of his jeans. Stand up.

Your legs were already sore from the position you had been sitting in, and they trembled as you got up. The dress fell off your legs, down to the ground as you did. You stepped out of it, accidentally kicking it to the side. A bitter smell erupted from somewhere in the room like the smoke was getting stronger.

'What is that?'

'Nothing,' Eddie's calm tone had wavered for a moment, or so it seemed his following words were just as smooth and charming as before. 'Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about. Just, c'mere,' It would have been difficult for you to do that with the blindfold in front of your eyes, but he had reached out with his hands to you.

And then, his lips were on yours. They were chapped as always, feeling a bit rough compared to how soft yours were. He tasted like the cigarettes he smokes when you aren't around, combined with another bitter flavour you couldn't place. It was soo much to take in, your senses all going into overdrive trying to keep up with him. You didn't know what to do with yourself, so you stood still, letting your lips move accordingly to how his did. But he kissed you with such an urgency, such hunger and vigour; you could hardly keep up.

It was messy and left your head spinning, nothing like you had actually expected your first kiss to be, but it was still perfect, as it was with Eddie.

You were now completely naked, standing in this attic room filled with candles; Eddie was holding on to your sides, kissing your neck. Each time his lips left your skin, it didn't even matter as you could still feel him on you. The trace he left behind was sloppy and needy and seeking out the weak spot on your neck so you could roll your head back in pleasure. All of these feelings were so new to you, so overwhelming, but you understood why Eddie wanted you to wait, why you had to be ready for this… and it was only the beginning.

Perhaps Eddie got a bit over-excited, for he suddenly picked you up off the ground, hands around your thighs. The suddenness made you scream out. You were utterly disorientated as he took a few stops and then dropped you down onto the bed. It could not have been a drop of more than a foot, but your stomach twisted. The mattress creaked loudly underneath you, but didn't continue as Eddie had not joined you in the bed just yet. So you lay there, waiting for whatever would come next– which was that Eddie had grabbed you by the hand and pulled you across to the head of the bed. A shriek left your lips. It would have been better if he had told you what he would be doing. The constant uncertainty of it all made your brain whirl.

And then he took your other hand, before you could even say something and gripped both your wrists tightly.

'Eddie, what–' you felt the cold metal against your skin and the faint clink of something locking. When he released your arms, you wanted to pull them away from what you assumed was the headboard, but you could barely move anymore.

'Remember those handcuffs that always hang in my room,' Eddie had leaned down beside the bed to be at your level. As you could not see anything, you kept your head straight up, directed at the ceiling. Your breathing got heavier, the constraints confusing you, but Eddie had his reasons. 'It might all get a bit too much for you at a certain point, so this will help you keep grounded. And a physical restraint helps us as a reminder that we should restrict ourselves in indulgences, the things that only break us more. We do not want to get carried away, so this will help, I promise. Just trust me.' He kissed your cheek, which felt wet for some reason. His thumb brushed over the same spot his lips had just met, and then, for a short time that felt like an eternity, there was nothing. Eddie had moved to another part of the room; you could still hear him, walking, shuffling around, mumbling his usual incoherent phrases to himself. You tried to listen to them, finally trying to make out what he was saying, but it was too soft of a whisper that ended too close to his mouth.

'My little lost sheep has finally found her way,' he said when he came back, the weight on the bed shifted, 'I have done my best guiding you towards this point, y/n, have done anything I could to protect you, to make sure you ended up here, where you belong. Now, you have to tell me, make the final decision– do you want this?'

'Yes.' You wanted him. He had been gone far too long, and you were already missing his touch. The anticipation was building inside you, coming together at your centre, burning with a need for him. You had thought that hunger and thirst that had been torturing you over the past weeks, the one Eddie had told you to ignore, that it had died down after the little help he had given you, but it was all coming back ten times worse. Something in you was eating you alive, and you couldn't lay still anymore, closing your legs, trying to get some kind of friction from the movement of rubbing them together, trying to find an angle at which some kind of relief would come out.

'Should have brought something to tie those pretty legs down as well. Stop, please.' He placed his hand over your thigh, rubbing circles over it slowly, 'you're gonna hurt yourself, moving like that.' So, you did stop, both the wiggling of your legs and tugging at the cuffs in frustration. His touch on your leg got rougher as he spread your legs wide open, revealing you to him.

'Yes, there is no doubt about it, sweetheart. You are ready.' He said voice laced with something that you had never really heard before in Eddie– pure lust. So ready, and he touched you. Right there, between your legs, this time with no panties or jeans to keep you apart, you felt his calloused fingers slide right over your slit. He moved his hand up and down, stroking lightly, and with each lap, he would add a bit more pressure, letting his fingers slip past your folds but not entering you quite yet.

You moaned; you didn't whimper, mewl or giggle. You moaned out his name. He had broken you now. Unsealed you. He was going to make you his.

His little lamb.

His fingers started moving faster, slipping inside you now and then, teasing. But you took it all so well, taking anything he gave you with the most gratitude. It was all so new, so much all at once; even a tease of his fingers was enough to make you see stars. He broke your barrier, broke you; there was no going back now that his fingers were deep inside you. Each time shooting up sparks through your body, letting you revel in it. You pulled at the handcuffs again, not because you needed to get out of them, but because you felt the urge to react somehow, and this was the only thing you could do. Hands tied up in the metal, legs spread out, and hips pushed down by Eddie's grip, you were stuck in a prison of delectation.

As his fingers continued making you feel ecstatic, he kissed your thighs over and over again. A sweet and haste peppering of his lips at your sensitive skin, hot and needy for both of you. When he pulled his fingers away from you, you could hear a smacking sound, followed by a hum.

'You know what you taste like, sweetheart?'

'No?' you could not say that had ever been something you thought about, but now that he had subjected the question, you were eager to find out.

'You taste like the sweetest nectar,' he kissed your stomach, 'Perfect and pure.' He could not get enough of your authenticity, your unadulterated and untouched body. It still hurt him to think that it would not last much longer, this vestal beauty and glow that seemed to radiate off you, but something so much better would come. Just you wait and see…

Eddie started repeating his little phrases anew as the kisses continued, and, this time, you could hear his mumbled words more clearly, each syllable emphasised with a breath of hot air against your core. The exact meaning of the words might have escaped you, but it did not stop them from sounding like what it was. A prayer, a blessing, finished with his sigh of "Hail Lord Vecna" in almost a whisper, before delving between your legs and kissing you there passionately.

The scream had not meant to come out, as the only thing you felt was a foreign pleasure. It was just a heavy shock to the system. Never before had you felt something like that.

Eddie's tongue pressed deeper into you, dipping at your sweetest spot, licking at your arousal. Before this, the handcuffs had not felt much like a nuisance, but you understood it now. All you wanted to do was to grab Eddie by the hair, pull it, show him how good it made you feel– but it could be distracting. It could pull him out of his concentration, ruin his whole plan, everything he had worked so hard on.

Yes, he had prepared, as he knew exactly what he was doing, reaching your desired spots, kissing you in a way you never expected a kiss to feel. You were glad he didn't tell you to keep quiet, because it did not seem to be a possible task. Moans kept leaving your mouth constantly.

'Eddie! Oh my–' your eyes rolled back, hips bucked up, which Eddie quickly pushed back down. But, to your horror, he pulled away from you entirely, and if you could see him, you would have seen his eyes, now almost as dark as a starless night, stare at you.

'It's not me you should be thanking,' he kissed your pelvis before whispering another "hail Lord Vecna".

'Hail Lord Vecna,' you repeated after him, but much breathier.

'Yes, good, sweetheart. Say it again, Louder. He will be so happy to hear your voice say his name.' he encouraged.

'Hail Lord Vecna,' you dared to say it, and Eddie supported it with a new kiss toward your clit. Then, with each repeat of the phrase, he extended it and kissed you longer and deeper until he was back to eating you out completely.

Hail

Lord

Vecna

Not long after, the feeling came back, except ten times harder, as if you had already been circling around it for hours. Again, the knot in your stomach tightened. It was coming closer and closer–

But Eddie pulled away again, at which you mewled out.

'No, please, please,' you whined, much to his amusement. Eddie started making his way up again, hands on either side of you, leaving kisses all over your body, his metal necklace chain trailing behind until he reached your lips once more. His chin was wet with your juices, and you could taste yourself on him as he kissed you. A flavour that turned your stomach, but Eddie's hands were still on you, kneading and squeezing at thighs and hips, and then he pulled the blindfold off of you. It was dimly dark in the room, but you still had to get used to the light of the candles. Most of them had already started burning out.

Eddie hovered above you, the white handkerchief in his mouth before he spat it out next to you. His hair fell down his face, the tips tickling at your collarbone and neck. All you wanted to do was to brush your hair through it, but you couldn't move your arms more than an inch away from the ornate headboard.

'Eddie,' you whimpered, tugging at the handcuffs again. He just smiled and leaned in to kiss you again. That's when you noticed he had also taken off his clothes. You were both naked, piled on top of each other, in the most intimate and compromising position a person could find themselves in.

Your heart was beating faster and faster, pushing against your chest, drumming in your ears. This was it. This is what everything had been leading up to. The moment Eddie had been preparing you for. The climax of his plan.

He kissed you once more, tenderly.

'This might hurt, baby, but it should. It will be a good pain. The best feeling you've ever felt, so don't be scared, ok? It's all going to be ok.' He spoke with his eyes locked on yours; you were dazed and confused, unsure what he was talking about. You had already felt so good, couldn't possibly imagine something that would feel even better.

But then the pain did come. There where his fingers, and his tongue, had been, and now you felt something stretch you out on the inside. Eddie pushed inside you, ripping you open, stretching you out.

'Eddie!' You tugged at the handcuffs, but they didn't budge just like before.

'Shh, this is good. It will be over soon. Trust me. Just trust me,' he repeated as he moved his hips. Moving out of you, but the pain didn't stop. Not when he pushed back into you or when he moved back out. With every thrust, it seemed to get worse, harsher and rougher, the pain not ceasing to stop but instead shooting up your spine. Soon, the tears started to roll down your cheeks again.

'It's ok, it's all alright,' Eddie whispered, kissing your nose, but he let the tears roll this time, dropping down your ears into your hair and onto the mattress. Just another sign of your loss and what you were willing to give him. How good you were, so willing to give yourself up for the cause. He was so proud, and then your moans returned, and he felt his heart grow twice in size. You looked, sounded, and felt so perfect. 'Yes, that's right. So good. C'mon, baby, doesn't this feel good?'

'Yes, yes,' you managed to say. The pain had finally receded and slowly turned to the promised pleasure you had been waiting for. The moans were now seeping out of you, body shaking at the force he was taking you with. His lips had made their way down to your breast, kissing at the valley between them, kissing over your pebbled nipples, sucking lightly, stimulating an even higher scream of pleasure from you. He kept on going, hard and fast.

How right he had been, saying this would be the best feeling you'd ever feel. There was nothing like it than to feel him inside you, stretching you out, hitting at the right places that made your toes curl. He kept this power over you with just his movements, controlling your body with his, giving you so much to respond to. He had prepared, knew what to do to the right reactions out of you, what would please or not, what to do to make it all work. Not much longer now. It was so close, all coming to an end.

'So beautiful,' his voice was airy but in a lost sense. He was seeking out oxygen as he continued his strikes. Both your breathing started to get heavier; everything was getting hotter and hotter around you. Your stomach tightened, and you remembered what Eddie had told you the first time it happened.

'Eddie! I- I'm–' what was it that he had called it? You whimpered the words out before it got too much. 'I'm close! Please.' What you were pleading for, you weren't sure. But you had waited so long, so excruciatingly long, you couldn't take it anymore.

'Wait, baby. Just a bit longer.' He huffed out, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

'Eddie,' you cried out. How much more could you possibly wait before you would explode?

'Be good for me. I know you can do it.' You wanted to cry and scream. He had made you wait so long, then said you were ready, just for you to wait even more. When would it finally end? When could you finally gain your euphoric release?

Was this the sacrifice? This torture he put you under, was it all for the sake of his plan? Would this appeal to Vecna? Your tears and screams as you lost a piece of yourself to him, would that heal the broken part of the world?

'Hail Lord Vecna,' he grunted with his final juts of the hips. It made your ears ring and your skin rise in goosebumps. And this gravelly coarseness stayed in his voice. 'Come. Come to me.'

You would follow him anywhere; you knew that. And as he stopped to let his pleasure release into you, you followed right after. Stars were crossing over your shut eyes. You couldn't breathe, move, or do anything but let it all wash over you. A million butterflies fluttered inside you.

Eddie cursed as he pulled out of you, and you immediately felt empty. It was like a spell had immediately dissolved out of you, and the fatigue took over.

Just like that, it was over.

'Here we go,' he breathed out, pulling the chain off his neck, where his guitar pick hung, but now it was also joined by the little key that fits into the handcuff lock. With a click, one cuff opened, then the other, and you were free to let your arms drop to your sides.

You thought that moving was not an option anymore as you lay in that old bed, staring at the cracks in the wooden ceiling. The muscles in your arms were already souring, only to get even worse by the time the sun would rise again. You'd have to get home, but the idea of just getting up off the mattress was making you tired. Even rolling over to your side to greet Eddie's face was too much at the moment.

But you could not stay there forever; the candles would burn out entirely soon, shrouding you in darkness and the cold. So, slowly you managed to get up, ignoring how everything seemed to sway around you. Just had to close your eyes for a second.

You rubbed at your wrists, which were now red and sore from the handcuffs. Eddie had gotten off the bed, too, pulling his shirt over his head as you looked around to see your dress on the floor. The white fabric was covered in red stains. There was no way you could wear this outside now; what would your parents think if they saw the blood?! And maybe, relatively, it wasn't even that big of an amount, but the contrast on the snow white enhanced each drop to an extreme.

'Eddie,' you gasped, reaching out for the garment, and that is when you noticed the scorch marks underneath. That bitter, smoky smell– it had been your dress burning. You wanted to cry. It was the only thing you had brought with you– your special gift from Eddie nonetheless– and it was now completely destroyed. 'I don't–'

'Shhh,' he sat back down on the bed, taking your hand in his. The wounds on both of you had stopped bleeding entirely and were closing up, but it still hurt when he dragged his finger along the harsh line. Then, he leaned down and pulled a duffel bag from underneath the bed. It must have been where he had carried everything in. when he opened the bag, you saw a sealed candle, identical to some of the lit, nearly burned up ones around you. But he wasn't pulling the candle out of the bag. Instead, Eddie showed you clothes you recognised all too well. 'I brought these for you in case the dress wouldn't work out after all.' And he handed you the shirt and shorts, both yours, which you had had for years, your favourite until you had lost them, so you thought. Things got misplaced; after all, you could have easily forgotten them once you had been at Eddie's place.

The fact he had kept them for you and brought them along to this house in case you would need a spare change of clothes… warmed your heart.

With happy tears threatening to escaper your eyes, you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

'I'm sorry, Eddie', you mumbled against him, still feeling horrible that his gift to you had been ruined.

'It's ok, baby. We'll get you a new one.' He caressed his hand over your back, giving you something to find comfort in. after all, that's all he wanted, for you to be safe and happy. Nothing but the best for his sweet little lamb. Always leading her in the right direction, straying from the dark and the dangerous. 'How about a black, this time? Or a pretty red one?'

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pinkie-pop · 2 months

Text

"I Have Something To Tell You."

Part I Part II Part III

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Yandere Genshn Impact, non religious SAGAU, Yandere Fatui Harbingers

Word count: 3.1k

Includes: Portrayal of mental illness, suicide, description of injury,

Synopsis: After killing yourself and landing in the world of Genshin Impact, you reflect on all that has gone wrong.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You don't really want to go home. Not exactly. But it's easier to say you miss your bed than to say you'd be fine with any bed, so long as it isn't the one in your wing.

You thought people who get isekaied into new worlds were supposed to be happy. You've always been unlucky, you suppose. That's right. It's easier to say you were unlucky than to face the reality of the situation: that this was all your own fault.

You should have sucked it up. Should have gone to counseling or stayed at a hospital. Should have done something else. Should have done anything else.

You should never have killed yourself.

•~•~•~•~•~•

It all started maybe a week ago. You've always been depressed. Never passionate about anything other than your video games, never smiling at anything other than a shiny new character or banner weapon, but it had never been this bad before. For all the talk, you had never actually wanted to die.

But then something changed. You aren't quite sure what it was that set you off. Maybe a particularly bad day at work, a side effect from an experimental medication you're on, or nothing at all. Regardless, something changed, and it changed fast. Soon, death became all you could think about. It plagued your mind both night and day until, at last, you slit your wrists in the bathtub, and when that didn't work, and you woke up again, you climbed up your local water tower and jumped off.

But it didn't matter. You woke up again. Looking different, but still undeniably you. Your face and voice had changed, but the same two scars still sit mockingly upon your wrists. You can't say you're prettier now, just different. Weren't the protagonists of transmigration stories meant to wake up in beautiful bodies, completely unlike their originals? So why was it that your hair and eyes remained the same, that only your face and body had differed?

“Your body,” Dottore explained, “was completely destroyed during your fall. So it reconstructed itself, leaving you a little different, a little the same. That's why,” he said, tapping your wrists,”—that these are still here.” Any other scars you have had disappeared from your body, any blemishes vanished, though the two on your wrists remained. It left you looking smooth and unfinished, a pale imitation of who you once were. Like someone who had only seen you a couple of times tried to draw you from memory. Dottore told you it was because you were attached to them. That the scars shaped your soul, hence their survival. You didn't quite understand, if you're being honest, but he seemed to know what he was talking about, so you didn't bother to question it.

When you woke up again after death, the first thing you noticed was how cold it was. The chill wind was bitter against your white nightwear, the breeze penetrating through the thin fabric as easily as a needle piercing one's skin. The cold seemed to seep into you, lodging itself deep inside your bones.

It was snowing, you realized dimly. That's odd. It hardly ever snowed anymore. The thought that you ought to have been dead by now hadn't yet occured to you, only the thought of cold and bitter winter days lingered in your mind. You thought of school being dismissed due to snow in your youth, of playing and building snowmen as a child. You recalled how the snow eventually stopped coming in winters, due to the Earth’s gradual heating. When it did come, it was a sad and pathetic thing, only a few inches total, melting as soon as it hit the ground.

You thought long and deeply, in an odd, serene state of mind despite, or perhaps because of the polar cold. You aren't quite sure how long you stayed there, reminiscing, but it must have been quite a while, seeing as how your fingers and toes turned black, contrasting starkly against the snow.

It was Tartaglia who found you first, buried knee-deep in snow, strangely calm despite the way your fingertips are blackened by the cold. Of course, you were calm. You were supposed to be dead anyway.

“You okay there, comrade?” He asked you, waving a hand in front of your face. You blinked at him slowly but otherwise didn't respond. You were so still that he would have thought you dead if not for the soft rising and falling of your chest. Tartaglia attributed your inaction to shock—a symptom he's seen plenty of during his time as a Fatuus. Seeing as how you seemed unable (or perhaps unwilling) to move, he simply picked you up and dragged you back to the Zapolyarny Palace, where you were able to warm up and get treatment.

In normal circumstances, your arms and legs would have had to be amputated, but your circumstances were far from normal.

Dottore was the one who had saved your limbs (Your legs, having been buried in the snow for hours, were beyond saving, but your fingers and hands were able to recover). For that, you were grateful. He’s a creep, sure, but sentiments of debt made you tolerate his odd rambles about medical malpractice. Made you politely ignore the way his hands seemed to linger and stray.

After all, if he could save your limbs from certain death, he could most certainly remove them with just as much ease, too.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The mirror in your quarters is broken.

You punched it when you first saw yourself reflected in its panes and refused to get a replacement, despite the many urgings of Pantalone to let him buy you one. Simply having your mirror broken was not enough to completely block out your new reflection, so you requested a can of blackout paint to be brought over to your room, where you then did a—in hindsight—rather shoddy job of enshrouding the reflective surface. It looked bad, but you didn't care.

All you cared about was never seeing the face that you hesitate to call yours ever again.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You aren't quite sure why Tartaglia brought you back to the Palace when it would have been much easier to leave you in the snow. You asked him about it once, but his response was less than satisfactory.

“You could say I fell in love with you at first sight,” he said, ruffling your hair. Because what could be more charming than a frostbitten civilian in white nightwear that camouflages them in the snow?

You decided then and there to ignore any questions you had about the Harbingers’ growing attachment to you. You didn't need to know why they felt the way they did. Only that they did.

Only that they do.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You were given a luxurious room at the Palace, far nicer than even the best of five-star resorts you could never afford. You even had your own personal maid, a brawny woman named Lera (an aptly chosen name, considering it means strength). She had her own helpers that also attended to you, three girls named Ana, Ulyana, and Irina (Ana and Ulyana are twins belonging to two rather uncreative parents, and Irina is an only child). Ana and Ulyana seem to be around your age, Irina a few years younger, and Lera about two decades older. Having the four of them around makes you feel as if you've been transmigrated into a romance fantasy novel.

When Tartaglia brought you to the Zapolyarny Palace, it caused a small ripple of chaos in its wake. The halls were filled with whispers about the strange person who seemed to have captured the heart of the eleventh Harbinger. Even more shocking than that, however, was the second’s agreement to heal you. There were many rumors going about, talk of backroom deals that must have been done to get Dottore to agree to save your arms, but no proof of such things were ever found. Some brave souls claimed that Dottore had also fallen for you and that that was why he had agreed to help. These people were hushed by their friends rather quickly, for fear of their own lives.

Stranger still was the seventh’s involvement in your recovery. Sandrone, though you're not sure how she heard about it or why she had decided to help, had created a pair of porcelain legs for you to wear. They were pretty, like a doll’s, a pale eggshell white with elegant gold carvings etched into the skin. They were comfortable, too, so much so that you almost forgot they were prosthetic, and Lera had to remind you multiple times to take them off before heading to bed.

You wanted to thank Sandrone for your legs, but you haven't seen her since your measurements and fitting. You asked a servant to send a message to her, but you've gotten no indication that she's even received it, let alone a response. As for Dottore, you were able to send your regards through Ulyana, who had to visit his section of the Palace anyway.

Tartaglia visits you daily, and soon you begin to coincidentally meet with the other Harbingers, who always seemed to have time for entertainment in the form of you.

“Oh, are you the one that our dear Tartaglia is so smitten with?” Came the sing-songy voice of Columbina. You pause, turning around slowly. To be honest, Columbina was one of the Harbingers you'd most like to avoid. Her soft voice sent shivers down your spine that—you hope—would be attributed to the cold instead.

You turn towards her, and, afraid your voice might crack, say nothing and simply nod instead.

“What’s your name, little songbird?” She asks you. You give it to her in a quiet voice, and she returns it with her own. Before she can say anything more, Tartaglia comes by and wraps an arm around you, making up some excuse about the two of you having someplace you needed to be. Columbina watches the two of you leave in silence, a small, closed-eyed smile upon her face.

Later, Tartaglia warns you away from Columbina. “There's something not right with her,” he says, a rare frown dancing upon his lips. “I can't place it, but you're better off staying away. And that's not just because I'd rather keep you to myself.” He then smiles and ruffles your hair in an attempt to lighten the mood. You don't say anything, but nod when he asks you to avoid her.

Pantalone is next. He visits you directly, bringing with him two golden bracelets you have no choice but to let him place upon your wrists. They do a good job of covering up your scars, which you assume is the intention behind the gift. It's oddly thoughtful, coming from him. But you know better than to think it was free.

You aren't sure if you want to know what he expects in exchange.

You meet with La Signora next, and you're surprised to see that she's still alive. You suppose the Traveler hasn't made it to Inazuma in this world yet. That's strange, but you decide not to dwell on it.

Next is Dottore’s segments, also still alive, and all of whom seem to enjoy lingering around your quarters. You often find one or two hanging around in the hallways, always making light conversation or asking if you require anything. You know better than to write it off as a coincidence, and for a while you entertained the thought that Dottore had put them up to it, before promptly writing it off as ridiculous.

Still, a small part of you can't help but wonder if the doctor has taken a special interest in one of his dear patients.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Two weeks into your stay at the Zapolyarny Palace, you overhear a conversation amongst the servants. You hide behind a banister and listen in.

“How long has it been now?” Says a maid, a nervous hand tangled in her hair, tugging it slightly. You’ve seen her before but have never gotten her name. She’s speaking to another maid who you recognize as Tatinana.

“Almost a month, I’d say,” responds the other, gently stopping her from ruining her braids.

“Everyone’s getting antsy. I’ve never seen Lord Tartaglia so irritable.”

“I know what you mean. He used to be such a laid-back guy. Now, you can barely even hold a conversation without him looking at you like he’s ready to tear out your eyes. Lord Scaramouche has gotten even more unbearable to be around, too. And you can tell the Player’s absence has taken a toll on everyone else as well.” Player, huh? If their absence is so heavily noticed, they must be important. It’s odd, though. You’ve never once heard about such a character existing at all, let alone their disappearance. You keep listening, hoping for clues about this mysterious person’s identity.

“Don’t you think the timing is a little odd? They showed up right before the Player stopped logging in. They’ve got the Harbingers wrapped around their finger. It’s too precise to be a coincidence. There’s something to it, I just know it.” Is she…talking about you now? So this ‘Player’ disappeared right before you showed up? They stopped ‘logging in’? Well, isn’t that wording a bit peculiar? It sure sounds like gamer lingo to you.

This Player that they mentioned…it couldn’t be you, could it?

“Enough with your conspiracies. Let’s get back to work before—” A floorboard creaks from under your foot, and the two maids freeze. You suppose there’s no use in hiding anymore, so you step out to face them.

“E-esteemed guest, w-what brings you here?”

“Ah, nothing much,” you say. “I heard voices and came to take a look. What were you two talking about?” You ask casually, stuffing your hands in your pockets.

“Nothing!” The girl with braided hair squeaks. You raise an eyebrow at her, and the other shakes her head.

The girl sighs. “We aren’t supposed to talk about them,” she says.

“Maria, I think they heard,” Tatiana says. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me more about this ‘Player’ you mentioned.”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

“Right, well…” She pauses, seemingly formulating her next words carefully. “It’s this…force. This being behind the Traveler. We don’t know its true nature, none of us have ever seen anything like it. It controls the Traveler and their companions like a puppet to its puppeteer.”

“They’ve lost their minds,” Maria whispers. “It’s scary. They make us clean a ghost’s room. Every day, it has to be spotless.”

“And? What’s the goal?”

“That’s the thing…none of us know. The Harbingers know something, they’re all obsessed with the Player, they’re convinced that the Player holds some kind of power they can utilize, but the Player isn’t from Teyvat, and only Lord Tartaglia has figured out how to interact with it.”

“Interact with it how?”

“By being possessed. All the Harbingers want to be controlled by the Player, they think it’ll make them stronger. But it’s more than that. They used to just want to use the Player for their own gain, but somewhere along the way things changed. They’ve been working on a way to bring them here, and when they do there’s a whole wing in the Zapolyarny Palace dedicated to them.”

“It was unbearable right after the Player first disappeared, the air was suffocating. But then Lord Tartaglia brought you back and things started to return to normal. I overheard him saying being with you reminded him of when the Player used to take control.” You nod, the cogs in your head turning furiously. That settles it, then. Without a shred of doubt, you are the Player.

“Hey, so listen…”

The Tsarista summoned you and all Harbingers to a meeting in an effort to control the chaos your revelation had caused.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You thought you were prepared to see the Tsarista for the first time, but nothing in the world could prepare you for the sheer, glacial beauty standing in front of you. Her presence was strong, commanding obedience with a simple glance. Her eyes looked at you coldly, interest evident in her face as she called the meeting to order. A beautiful crown of ice sat upon her head, her impossibly white hair elegantly framing her face as it cascaded down her back.

The meeting passed by in a blur. You remember them talking about your need to be protected, to never leave the Palace without at least two Harbingers or the Tsaritsa herself escorting you. You remember telling them about how you died, stating simply that you ‘fell from a high place’ and omitting the part where you jumped. You remember the color of the buttons each Harbinger wore on their coat. But you don’t remember the part where you agreed to stay with them. You don’t remember anyone even asking.

After the meeting, news of your true identity spread like wildfire. Some people didn’t believe it, calling you a fraud or an imposter, but those voices were quickly snuffed out the second the Harbingers started to accept your new status as the Player. Immediately, you were moved to the Player’s Wing in the Zapolyarny Palace, an easy move, considering you had no possessions.

You don’t know why they’re trying so hard to win your favor or even if they realize that they’re failing, but either way, you know you need to get out of here. You’d try dying again if you thought that would work, but after seeing your scars, the Harbingers have already blocked all potential means of speeding up your expiration date. That only leaves one option.

The Harbingers’ visits, already a nuisance, became overbearing in no time. If it wasn’t Tartaglia dragging you to his training hall, it was Dottore giving you the nitty-gritty of his latest experiments. If it wasn’t Arlecchino shoving sweets down your throat, it was Pantalone burying you in gifts.

If it wasn’t one, it was always the other.

You have to run away.

But how? The Harbingers are all working together to keep you under constant lock and key.

Maybe if you were able to break the bonds they’ve formed with each other, you could recruit one of them to help you. They’re all selfish assholes. You’re sure it wouldn’t be difficult to convince one of them they’d be better off keeping you to themselves.

“I have something to tell you,” you say, brushing a strand of hair out of the Balladeer’s face. “It’s about Dottore.”

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mrsnancywheeler · 3 months

Text

let me down easy // finnick odair x f. reader

based off this blurb

summary: finnick pushed himself away, isolated himself, and you're slipping through his fingers like sand.

masterlist

3.8k words

warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff at the end, a little smutty but also very brief, mental illness, insecurity, paranoia, allusions to cheating (no one is actually cheating), slightly mean!finnick, self destructive behavior on all sides, more insecurities, arguments, feeling isolated, slight blood and injury, female rage things, male masturbation, unedited, no use of y/n, brief mentions of vomiting, girls girls all around, annie cresta my beloved being a girl girl, people pleaser reader

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Once every day had felt like it was full of sunlight, even if there were ups and downs you always had each other by the end of it. Now you weren't even sure if you had yourself, let alone Finnick. Worst of all you had no idea what you'd done wrong, at first you chalked it up to how he'd just returned from the Capitol. But usually his isolation was a day at the most before he'd succumb to your comfort. Instead it had been nearly a month of radio silence.

He stopped the way he'd pepper your face with kisses to wake you up and bring you to the kitchen where he'd have made breakfast, telling you mindless stories about his morning swim. Now if he did anything for you it felt robotic, out of necessity, there was no helping you with your hair, having fun picking out your outfits, he was barely around. Never would you have thought you could be such an outcast in your own home, your own relationship.

At first you'd thought you just weren't doing enough, that he needed some extra love to help him open up. Reluctantly you'd fully wake yourself up when you felt him rise for his swim, take up the position of making him breakfast instead. Busying yourself with his favorites until he returned and you put on your best smile when he did, hopeful it would be somewhat successful.

“Good morning!” You greeted and were met with a confused look, a nod. You'd always hated getting up this early yet here you were and he did nothing.

“I have to take a shower." He muttered and was up the stairs. It was a disappointing resolution, but then your hopes had still been high. So you kept making his favorites throughout the next few days, scattering gifts for him throughout the house, writing notes to hide where he might find them, desperate to show him how much you loved him.

“Where are you going?" Your voice startled him and he slowly turned his head towards you.

Finnick's voice was so dry, rigid, “Fishing."

“Oh, let me get my shoes on, I'll come with!" Bright smiles, you reminded yourself when it felt like wavering.

“I'd rather go alone."

“Right." It wanted to falter so bad, “How long are you gonna be gone? I could make you lunch to go or something."

“I'm okay."

You fidgeted with your fingers, “Yeah, okay, well, um, have fun." Then he was gone, without a kiss, even a hug goodbye. Come to think of it there hadn't been any at all for a while, not even in the morning which is something he'd always do. So after a few days failing with those attempts you'd convinced yourself of a different reason.

“Annie, be honest with me, do you think I'm pretty?" The two of you had been out in the garden of Victors Village and she seemed taken aback.

“Honey, of course you're pretty. You're beautiful, what brought this on?" She dropped what she was doing to look at you.

You darted around the specifics, “What about the way I dress, is it too frumpy?"

“No! There's nothing wrong with anything about you." Her voice was so soft and she felt like the only person you could talk to now that Finnick had pushed himself away from you. “What's going on?"

You felt yourself finally crying all the held back tears you'd hid for the moments alone, “What if he's found someone prettier and more exciting?” You sobbed out and Annie hugged you.

"Finnick worships the ground you walk on, he'd never do that.”

"He barely even talks to me anymore, Annie. It's like I don't exist.”

“He's just going through a rough patch, it's not your fault."

Regardless of what Annie said, you disagreed. He must have had someone else, but you couldn't confront him about it. No, if you did then it would become real and he'd leave you for them. There had to be someone else taking on his hardships and loving him the way he'd once let you. So you bought new makeup, new lingerie, new clothes, tried to feel more attractive, more desirable. Yet it didn't seem like he even noticed.

You'd waited for his return all day, he'd left so early you hadn't even seen him. You made dinner praying that he'd see the effort you made, and find you irresistible once again. Of course, this effort seemed to be in vain.

“Welcome home, Finn!" You greeted when he walked through the front door, pained by the sound of your own faux bubbly voice. You put a plate down in front of his usual seat.

“Thanks." He mumbled and you smiled cheerfully. Perhaps you'd been too solemn and he'd prefer someone who exuded more sunshine-like behavior. “How was your day?" His voice was sharp, curt, but it was a conversation nonetheless. Always better than nothing.

“It was good!" You lied through your teeth, there hadn't been a single moment where your brain hadn't been infested with the thought of him pushing you away, him with someone else. It was something you desiped, you preferred to be in the moment. When you had been confident in yours and Finnick's relationship you could immerse yourself in the company of others, enjoy menial tasks with humming and daydreams, but now the isolation haunted your mind. “Annie and I planted some new flowers and cut some that recently finished blooming. I finally changed our vases out." He didn't even glance around, just kept eating. Your Finnick had always made an effort to look around, praise you for anything you did, he took pride in you, now the only thing he took pride in was being able to avoid you.

He curtly nodded his head in response and you felt like you might snap. Especially as the silence persisted, nothing except the sounds of the house and his fork clinking on the plate. You chewed at your bottom lip, leg bouncing up and down waiting for the smallest bit of conversation, but nothing came. Eventually you shot out of your seat, grabbed your plate, which you were sure you wouldn't be able to stomach, and began cleaning up dinner. Hands gripping each dish so hard as if to contain all the rage you'd been repressing.

“I can clean up." Finnick murmured as he rose.

Being lazy was another thing you thought could be a reason. He did so much for you and whatever you had to offer must not have been enough. Yes, he'd always insisted that you should just be his pretty girl that he could look at when he did the tasks, but in secret he must have just wanted you to resist and do more. So you vehemently shook your head, “No, I've got it!" Your voice was strained and several pitches too high to sound natural.

“It's fine, I can do it.” How dare he have the gall to sound annoyed with you.

“I've got it Finnick, just go to bed!" Or whatever the fuck else is he does to be away from you. You regretted how snappy you were, he wanted someone easy going, not how uptight you were being. But god, hate that man for how he looked like a wounded puppy dog. “Sorry." You muttered, only partially genuine. Harshly grabbing a glass to clean, hands gripping around it, so harshly it seemed that when you went to put it to dry, it shattered in your hand. Your reaction was delayed as you stood there in disbelief, you hated your life, “Fuck.”

Then his hand was on your back and you involuntarily jerked at the contact you hadn't felt for so long. “You're bleeding." How the hell was his voice still so stony, a mystery you'd never know the answer too. It sent tingles up your spine the way his hand was on your back, you missed his touch. He led you to the bathroom where he carefully tended to the cuts in your hand. Carefully taking out the pieces of glass and although you occasionally winced, it was like your brain couldn't comprehend the pain over the buzzing about his hand touching yours. But once he bandaged it up the touch was gone and so was he with a, “I'll clean up."

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. But you hated being angry with him when he was probably going through something, he'd struggled so much and just needed help. Was it really excusable though when it was tearing you apart to be in all of this. You got up and without a second thought walked straight out the front door. Feet guiding you to the comfort of the beach. Of course it invoked memories of all the better times spent with Finnick, but out here at least you had the ocean. It has started to rain and you didn't care. Walking out into the sea, as far as you could touch, and letting the freedom of the waves surround you. And you screamed, at the sky, at the waters, into the night. Trying so desperately to let go of the aggression, so you could keep trying. Inhaling the salt air before you walked back inside, you could do this. Every relationship had trials and tribulations, but you could be stronger, stick together.

As you were walking back, Finnick was jogging towards you, “Are you okay?" There was actual emotion in his voice, you longed to be privileged to it more often.

“Yeah."

“I thought I… " He trailed off, hand running through his hair. The way he looked like he might cry sparked guilt in you, but also a sick pleasure that he actually cared. “You're gonna get sick." Just as quickly his tone returned to being straight-laced.

You didn't care, if you were sick maybe he would take care of you. So you walked inside and he said nothing. You showered and changed, you'd gotten a new nightgown that left little to the imagination. Maybe you could get a rise out of him, get him to touch you more. But he seemed to be fast asleep by the time you left the bathroom, so you slipped into bed beside him. In the past he'd always sleep with his arms around you, but now you slept beside each other rather than with one another. It left you cold, despite the blankets, which were barely there as he'd always been a blanket hog, which you used to tease him for, but was fine because you were attached to him. Now you laid there and felt yourself crying. You cursed yourself for it, not right now, but you couldn't stop. So you covered your mouth with a hand as you sobbed into it.

The next morning you felt him wake, but there was no energy to make breakfast. You were exhausted and it hadn't made him love you again anyways. So you drifted back off until the sound of floorboards creaking when he returned woke you up. You sat up in bed as he entered the bedroom. “Morning, Finn." The smile you worked hard to maintain was back.

“Morning." He mumbled and then his eyes faltered on you. That's when you remembered the nightgown, it was a relief for something to keep his eyes on you. ‘Love me, even if it's just for my body, love me in some way.’ Your brain begged to no avail. “Shower." He slowly said even though he'd very obviously grown hard.

You felt humiliated, completely embarrassed to be dressed the way you were and him to still not want you. It made you want to cry again, but you had to persist. Rising to get dressed until you heard your name. It took you a second to process that he was moaning it, you were right there and he was getting himself off to the thought of you when he could've just had the actual you. That had to be a new type of low. You hadn't even dared to touch yourself no matter how badly you wanted him because you knew nothing you did could match the things he'd made you feel. Yet here he was, so easily jerking off. There was nothing you could do except seethe as you got ready for your day. At least it was your name and not some other girls.

You were in the kitchen when he walked downstairs, “Going to the market." He announced and you got up from your chair.

“I'm coming too." It wasn't a question.

"No, it's okay. I've just got a couple things to grab.”

"So do I, so I'll just come along to grab them. You don't even have to stick by me, I'm just going.” You were exasperated. Honestly you hadn't left the confines of Victors Village for a while, besides when you tried to recall your look, and this would be a good opportunity to see if he was being honest. There was nothing you really had to get, but at least you'd somewhat had his company.

He said nothing but waited as you put on your sandals and then the two of you set off. The silence was deafening as you two walked, your Finnick would always hold your hand, would've taken you from booth to booth and ramble on endlessly, buy anything you glanced at with interest, but now he stood too far away for your hands to even brush by each other. The bustling of the market was a relief and for the first time in a long time you naturally smiled. Although it was jarring how quickly Finnick put on a smile, made conversation with all these people when he hadn't blessed you with the same thing. In fact, it instantly dampened your mood.

“Haven't seen you in so long, missed seeing that pretty smile!" All your favorite vendors gushed and you'd smile, make small talk. Even if everything made you think of Finnick. When was the last time he'd called you pretty? When was the last time he kissed you?

“You look a little sad, are you alright?" And you'd insist you were just feeling a little under the weather. You'd somewhat kept your distance from Finnick until you saw him laughing with a girl in the market. When was the last time he'd laughed with you? Is this what he did, found pretty girls in the market, charmed them, and went back home with them?

You'd slowly approached and showed fake interest in one of her necklaces. “They're real pearls." She said. She was so pretty, stunning. What did she have that you didn't? You hummed, smiling and without a word, Finnick was handing you money.

‘I don't want your money, I want you to pay attention to me.’ You thought and shook your head, “I don't need your money, Finn." The only thing you'd want from him was something he'd pick out because he wanted to give it to you, something he'd always done if you hadn't been there with him. Showing up at home with little treasures to show off to you. He looked at you quizzically, it wasn't like you had any money of your own on you.

“Is this your girlfriend?" The woman asked, her voice was sweet like sugar, you were too gruff, that's what you were missing.

Right now though, your voice was breathy, anxious. “Yeah." The woman must have been able to sense something off because she looked at you with pity. Finnick left the money on the counter by you regardless of what you said and walked off. You sighed.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know."

You gave a sad smile, “It's okay, not your fault." You picked the money up, ready to go find him.

“He's just a guy, even if he's Finnick Odair, don't let him dim your spark." It should've been encouraging, except you knew you loved him too much to ever leave him.

You found him, chatting and smiling as he bought produce. You missed his smile. “Here." You said quietly, handing him his money.

“Where's the necklace?"

“Didn't need it." You didn't care about needing it, you care that he would rather have you buy things for yourself then make you feel valued.

He huffed, like you were frustrating him, annoying him. “Okay, use it to find something else then. You said you weren't going to stick around me." You couldn't stop yourself from physically recoiling from his venom.

“I just came to tell you I was going home." You said weakly, staring at the ground. “Have fun." Your voice cracked slightly and you didn't even bother looking up as you walked home. Immediately settling yourself into bed where you refused to move. Eventually he came home, something clicked onto the dresser table, the sun went down and you stayed put. When he crawled into bed the most movement you made was flipping onto your side to have the protection of your back facing him.

For days it was a cycle of laying in bed, only rising once he left, usually to stand under the burning hot water in the shower until your skin felt raw. Then immediately returning back to bed. He'd return, put something on the dresser, and you'd stay still. Eventually one night he'd come home and sat at your feet, mattress dipping. “We need to talk."

Your hands clamped over your ears, this was it, he was done with you, all that effort for nothing. The anxiety knotted in your stomach, “I'm gonna be sick." You forced yourself up and found yourself throwing up in the toilet, Finnick holding your hair back.

“Hey, it's okay. It's okay, sweet girl." When you were done you said nothing as you brushed your teeth, praying he would leave and forget whatever bad news he was surely bearing. But he didn't, he waited and sat on the bed, waiting for you. Who exited, arms crossed, trying not to cry.

“Please don't break up with me." It was pathetic to beg for but he stood up, looking bewildered.

“No, no, no, I'm not gonna break up with you, sweet girl. I wouldn't even think of it." His hands cradled your face and you melted into them.

Finally you let the tears fall, "Then what are we talking about?”

"I've been so terrible to you, a terrible partner, a terrible person. I…” He took a deep breath in, "I had a rough time in the Capitol, I always do, especially last time though. And I knew you would be able to tell and try to help, but it was easier for me to just block you out so I didn't have to deal with it. Because it hurts to think about." He was crying and it made your heart ache. "And I took you for granted. I didn't try to be there for you, I was selfish and I can't make up for it enough. I will spend the rest of my life making up for it.”

You were both sobbing and he pressed his forehead to yours. His hands were so warm, his touch was so perfect. "I want to help you.”

"I know.” He pulled his forehead away, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I need you to tell me how you felt. Not the sweet way you usually explain things, be honest, so honest.

You shook your head, “No, it's okay. It was just miscommunication."

“No, I think I nearly broke you and everybody else noticed before I did. I need to know your raw feelings, so I can attempt to make it up to you.” He let go of your shoulders and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I thought you were cheating on me.” You said quietly, anxiously playing with your fingers. He already looked hurt, "Like you found someone else because I wasn't, I don't know, fun enough, pretty enough, hardworking enough. And you didn't want me to do anything with you ever or notice anything I did for you." You took a deep breath, you could feel yourself getting angrily worked up and he could tell.

“If you're angry, be angry." He said and you obeyed.

“And I bought new clothes for you, changed my makeup routine, smiled more, made all your favorites, woke up earlier, tried to take on burdens and you said nothing. Do you know how lonely I was? How bad that made me feel about myself? One day you weren't letting me lift a finger, telling me you loved me, now pretty I was, and the next I thought I'd never hear any of that again, let alone have you touch me. No kisses, or hugs, you didn't even hold me when we slept! And you were so closed off and sometimes mean on top of that and all I wanted was your attention. Until finally I gave up because at least even if you weren't really with me, I still had you, and I didn't want you to leave me just because I found out there was someone else, which is so fucked. And then I thought, maybe at the very least, he’ll have me for my body, I had new lingerie, I tried and you didn't give a fuck. No, you got yourself off in the goddamn bathroom and I was right here!” Your voice had risen and your inhales were sharp between the ranting, "And everytime I hated what you were doing to me, I'd feel bad because what you've been through is so much worse and I should still try to be there for you. So I tried and then you'd be annoyed with me and it was like torture. And I swear to god, if you ever do that again, I'll leave.” A weight lifted off of your chest and he hugged you.

“I'm so sorry, I won't ever do it again, I love you so much, you're so pretty and kind and I need you in my life." You held onto him like he would slip away, kissing away your tears that were falling even though he was also crying. He held you until the sobbing had mostly subsided, “You know I bought you all these stupid gifts when you were laying there, thinking it would make you feel better, but I don't even think you noticed." He chuckled and you turned your head, not wanting to tear away from him. All you could see was the necklace from where you were standing. “Not that it would've done anything after all the time I spent letting the castle crumble around us.

"Thank you.” It was muttered and then he tried to pull out of the hug which made you whine. Trying to cling on forever.

His hand tilted your chin towards him, “You wanna put one of those sets on that you got for me so I can show you how pretty you are and how sorry I am for neglecting my sweet girl?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

sorry y'all angst is my default settings. thank you for reading, comments, likes, reblogs, feedbacks is all super appreciated. asks and requests are open, love you all, sorry again 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #finnick imagine #finnick odair x reader smut

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hannieehaee · 5 months

Text

18 + / mdi

content: pantysniffer!mingyu, pervert!mingyu, the unexpected return of this mingyu, established relationship, smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), face-sitting, etc.

part 1

wc: 1384

a/n: i randomly thought abt a continuation to that one mingyu fic i wrote like a month ago and now here we are

masterlist

you thought he would've been done with this by now. i mean, you were dating; exclusively. you had been dating for about a month, so it was quite strange for mingyu to still have this habit.

when you'd first met your boyfriend, you had only been roommates. he was clean, he kept things tidy, he was respectful of your space, and most important of all, he was really hot.

you hadn't known him very well until first moving into his shared apartment, only having ever heard your best friend vernon mention him in passing. which wad why you were in utter shock upon moving in with vernon and mingyu, now realizing that your best friend had been gatekeeping this muscly hunk from you.

admittedly, you had a bit of a crush on him, but you were an adult and you also appreciated the friendship you had quickly built with mingyu, deciding to not act on anything, or even give off any type of hint of your school-girl crush on him. this platonic dynamic, however, did not last long. but its demise was not your doing.

it all started some random afternoon, in which you had headed over to take a shower at the usual time you tended to. having roommates, it was just easier to have a schedule, so you'd always abide by it. except today's routine was quickly interrupted by the unexpected sighting of your panties in mingyu's hand, pressed against his nose while he breathed in the scent. you had only wanted to ask him for extra conditioner, not bothering to knock on his door (your bad), but absolutely not expecting to find the culprit to all your misplaced panties from the past month.

like any reasonable girl, this interaction ended with you letting mingyu fuck you into next week, but only after being thoroughly eaten out by the man as he lost himself between your legs. in very predictable fashion, this resulted in a relationship arising between the two of you, immediately informing your friend vernon that he would now have to third wheel as the three of you continued to be roommates.

you had thought that was the last of it. the last time mingyu would let his depraved tendencies thief you of yet another pair of panties. i mean, he had the real thing now, so there was no need for a washed out scent of your cunt for him to get off to, right? wrong. you had forgotten your boyfriend was obsessed with you, and by result, the lacy panties he knew you wore day after day.

that's why it shouldn't have been surprising when you walked into his room (which was pretty much yours by now) to find him in the same position you had a month before. you wanted to be scandalized, but much like last time, you were incredibly turned on at the thought of mingyu being so addicted to you he'd seek your panties if he couldn't have you immediately.

he noticed your arrival, not stopping his movements even as you neared him, closing the door behind you.

"baby ... left me all alone. 'm sorry, just needed you so fucking bad ..." his movements on his dick sped up, whining and pouting at you for fulfilling your adult duties and leaving him on his day off to go to work.

"gyu ... baby. wanted me that bad? couldn't wait for me to get back?", you were close enough now to caress his cheek, making him lean into your hand as he moaned at your condescending tone.

"mhm," he nodded, "can i have it? want the real thing, baby. wanna drown in it."

"how can i say no to you, pretty? c'mere, let me-"

"my face! sit on my face, baby, please!", it wasn't too common for him to beg for you, only ever happening when he was overly pussydrunk for you, so you were taken aback for a moment.

surprisingly, you had never sat on his face to date, despite his constant insistence on eating you out almost every day that allowed for it. to be fair, you two worked a lot, and had only been dating for a month. there hadn't been enough time to explore more positions or even explore each other as much as you'd want to.

"gyu? are you sure? what if i-"

"its fine!", he was suddenly not as dizzy from the arousal the scent of your panties had given him, all focus now on the thought of your thighs encompassing him as he licked at you from below their weight, "i can take it, baby, i promise."

it took a bit of enticing from him to convince you, with him beginning to kiss your neck and sneaking his hand under your shorts to run his fingers up and down your already-wet panties. he succeeded too quickly, knowing you had as little power to resist him as he did you.

and so now you were sitting on his face, worries buried deep in your brain as your boyfriend's tongue delved into the farthest depths of your cunt. you couldn't help yourself in holding onto his hair and begin riding his tongue, too blind on pleasure to even think.

what you hadn't realized was that your boyfriend was off even worse than you, constantly moaning against your cunt while his hand remained occupied on his own dick. he had never felt more turned on, falling in love with the weight of your thighs on his face.

"gyu ... feel so- so fucking good, shit! please ..." you had no idea what you were begging for. there was nothing more mingyu could do to make you feel better than he already was. he had managed to render you senseless, with no coherent thought left in you.

"so fucking good .. shit, so tasty, baby. ride me just like that ..." that was what you could make out of his mumbled words muffled by your cunt, but regardless, knowing he felt pleasure from the simple act of sucking on your clit made you even more aroused.

you began to ride him at an animalistic speed once you realized your orgasm was approaching, face now wet from the tears of pleasure he had pulled from you. mingyu was in no better state, humping his own hand at a similarly inhuman pace, cumming halfway through your own orgasm.

you fell limp on the bed, wearily removing your weight from his face and letting yourself become boneless while he somehow managed to get himself up to get some wet wipes to clean up the mess, but not without attacking your mouth with his tongue for a few seconds before actually getting up, moaning at the whine you let out at your taste on his tongue.

"shit. we have to do that again. we have to do that every time from now on. we-"

"okay, slow down," you giggled as he cleaned you up, "i need to recover. you're crazy, gyu, jesus christ."

"what? is it illegal to love pussy?"

"as much as you do? it should be. also, you're still stealing my panties? gyu, i-"

"listen!" he interrupted you again, now having thrown away the dirty wipes and wordlessly positioning the two of you so you could lay against each other under his covers, "it was an emergency, okay? i was so horny, you have no idea. and your panties were right there! it's like crack, baby. i couldn't help myself. are you mad?", he was pouting by the end of his explanation, paying no mind to how ridiculous he sounded.

"of course not, gyu. it's actually kinda, uh, i-"

"oh my god. you still like it?! you like when i sniff your panties and i'm the perv?", he gasped, now facing you as he berated you.

"shut up! i'm not the one going around sniffing people's panties, okay? you're the perv!"

"nuh uh, baby. can't turn this on me. gonna be stealing your panties even more now. i dont care if i can have the real thing, want both. gonna make you sit on my face every day too. cant even pretend you dont love it anymore," he was smug about it, knowing he was completely right.

"fine. you can steal my panties. happy?"

he dared giggle in response, "very."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu fanfic #mingyu scenario #mingyu smut

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cadavercowboy · 1 year

Text

In Too Deep — Part One

Pairing: Stepfather!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s marriage is falling apart and he’s desperate for something familiar to cling to. He knows you’re the wrong thing, but you don’t exactly make it easy for him to keep his distance.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Allusions to emotional abuse. Inappropriate relationship. Implied cheating & cheating. Age difference (reader is over 18!). Brief/vague description of reader’s hair. Moral dilemma. Coercion. Daddy kink. Size kink. Innocence kink (if you squint). Mutual masturbation. Fingering. Handjob. Unprotected sex. Minor degradation. Creampie. Cum play. Cum eating.

A/N: This has been collecting dust in my docs and then this post reminded me of it so I had no choice but to finish ‘er.

Shutting the front door as gently as you can, you wince when your keys clatter loudly against the hardwood floor. You curse under your breath, though the sound of tinny voices floats towards you from the next room and you realize you don’t need to worry about the noise. Bucky is still awake, up late for what seems like the hundredth night in a row. You pick up your dropped keys and toss them on the counter as you pass by, padding quietly down the hall towards the blue glow which reflects off the walls.

You poke your head into the living room and there you find him; slumped into the couch and bathed in the light from the screen in front of him. Even from this distance you can sense the air of defeat in Bucky’s posture and the slight pouting of his full lower lip. A pang of sympathy twinges in your chest as you observe your poor stepfather. All you’ve done lately is go on dates in search of a relationship and all Bucky has done is try desperately to maintain a hold on his; neither one of you seem to be having much success.

While you’re accustomed to your mother’s mistreatment of those around her, he’d innocently and unsuspectedly married his way into what is likely to be the most toxic relationship he’ll ever be a part of. Night after night, Bucky sits there waiting for her to return from her shift at work. Whether or not he truly believes that’s where she is, you’ve yet to determine. Unbelievably — though he deserves much better — Bucky hasn’t left her. Though the man is kind and sweet and has never treated your mother with anything but love, he is too kind or perhaps too stupid and oblivious to stand up for himself.

“Late night?”

Bucky’s rough voice draws you from your musings and you sigh airily as you step around the wall to shuffle towards the couch he sits upon. While you’d much rather head upstairs and take care of that which your date hadn't bothered to, it would be rude not to at least talk to Bucky. You throw your bag onto the unoccupied armchair, rounding the piece of furniture to join him.

“You too,” you observe as you plop down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He offers a half-smile as he leans forward and the bottle of beer he’d been nursing thunks onto the coffee table. When he turns your way, his smirk falters; his cerulean irises flicker briefly down the plunging cleavage of the skimpy shirt you’re wearing. Your lips seem a bit swollen, though he can’t be sure the light flashing across your face isn’t just playing tricks on him. Bucky shifts against the cushions and sits up a little straighter, his arm stretching along the back of the couch.

“Never can these days,” he admits, the laugh that follows is weighted with bitterness.

His tone is soft, yet ice cold. You meet his eyes and behind them simmers an ember of pain, the gaze that meets yours is that of a man lost. Maybe Bucky is aware after all. He sees the understanding in your expression and smiles sadly before his lips flatten into a gesture of acknowledgement, of knowing. As you sink into the couch, so too does your heart. You felt bad when you thought Bucky didn't know the truth, though now you feel worse knowing that he does. He turns back to the television with a sad sigh.

“How did your date go?” he queries.

It’s just like Bucky to put aside his own troubles and be curious about your life. You smile fondly as you observe him, shadows dance across his handsome features and the screen illuminates the glassy shine that coats his distant eyes.

While not your father, he’d certainly taken well to filling the role; being supportive and loving and present in a way your own dad never could. You love Bucky like family and that only makes it more difficult to rectify the unspoken and unidentifiable feelings that simmer just under the surface. Something you’ve never once explored, but you’re almost certain Bucky has taken notice of, too. It would be too dangerous, too wrong for either of you to ever acknowledge; though it’s simultaneously impossible to ignore. Good looking and attentive as he is, any woman would be liable to fall victim to Bucky’s charm.

You continue to observe Bucky, noting the distinct heat which rises in your cheeks. You study the way his thick lashes flutter when he blinks slowly, the way his full lips glisten when he licks them, the way his Adam’s apple bobs enticingly along the thick column of his throat. Bucky turns your way and clears his throat expectantly, smiling when you chuckle guiltily and apologize.

“That bad, huh?” he jokes, referring to your lack of a response.

“No, it was…fine I guess,” you offer unconvincingly. “I don’t know. He was kind of boring, actually. There was just no spark. No fire. No passion.”

His teeth sparkle even in the dimness of the room when Bucky laughs at the dramatic way you haughtily enunciate the end of your declaration, extending your arm forlornly towards the ceiling. You laugh along with him, though the sound stops short when the warmth of his hand circles the curve of your knee where your bent leg nearly touches his thigh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he consoles. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right?”

“No worries,” you assure him as you flop sideways and prop your head on the back of the couch, pouting sadly. “I’ll just die a lonely and horny old spinster.”

You regret the words almost instantly, blaming your loose lips on the three drinks it had taken for you to soldier through your date. There’s no other explanation for why you would say such a thing to your stepdad.

Although Bucky snorts in surprise at your bold statement, he cannot deny the warm knot that begins to form low in his belly. He’d known your dates weren’t going well, but the confession about your sexual frustration sends his mind reeling down a road he’s well aware he should actively avoid traveling. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he pats your thigh in a gesture you suppose is meant to be soothing but only makes you painfully aware of how keyed up you are tonight.

“That’s alright,” he consoles. “Some guys just suck.”

“Some women, too,” you breathe.

Your proclamation elicits a tense moment between the two of you, not a sound in the room beyond the dialogue droning from the tv and the apropos ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Bucky’s eyes search yours in the interim, your own mimicking the action as you look for some sort of sign or indication that his mind is careening in the same treacherous direction as yours. You’re certain yours is spinning more wildly out of control than Bucky’s ever could.

His hand remains on your thigh, igniting an unbearable blaze of impermissible desire in your veins that makes you squirm. The only sign of life from Bucky is the gentle flexing of his strong fingers. When the silence grows suffocating, Bucky’s tongue flicks out between his lips and his eyes finally leave yours to instead journey towards your slightly parted mouth. He leans in almost imperceptibly and as he does, his palm slips higher up your thigh until his pinkie finger draws perilously close to the seam of your jeans. Your pulse thrums in your neck and between your legs and the spell is broken by your own startled gasp.

Without a word, you spring to your feet, Bucky’s hand sliding down your leg as you all but leap from his grasp. Your feet thump loudly as you flee from the room, thudding their way up the stairs. You barrel through your bedroom doorway and swing the door behind you, not bothering to make sure it shuts all the way.

You’re inside the safety of your room no more than a few seconds by the time you’ve shed your shoes, socks, and pants; tossing the garments aside while you pace at the foot of your bed and drag your fingers through your hair. Your cheeks puff and you breathe a rush of air as your palms slap against the bare skin of your thighs.

The tight shirt you were certain would show off your body just enough to tempt your date is shed in haste as well, leaving you in only your underwear; sexy and lacy and regrettably unappreciated. In your head, you’re chiding yourself for what an insanely inappropriate notion it is to be so turned on at the touch of your own stepfather. Still, your heartbeat pounds demandingly between your thighs and your need refuses to be ignored.

Climbing clumsily into your bed, your bare skin burns against the coolness of your mussed sheets. Your control is crumbling as you gnaw anxiously at your lower lip. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable any further so you delve a hand beneath the elastic of your panties and sigh contentedly at the immediate relief of your warm fingers. Already surprisingly wet, your fingertips slip easily along your slick and puffy lips.

“You left your—”

Bucky’s presence is preceded neither by a knock nor an announcement; he simply eases the door open, his shocked face disrupting the shadows in the doorway. Your bag tumbles from his hand and thuds dully against the carpeted floor of your bedroom, Bucky’s jaw falling with it. His eyes burn hot and dilate without delay, nostrils flaring as he tips back on his heels; knocked off balance by the depravity of what he’s accidentally happened upon. He knows he should say something, anything; he should apologize, most certainly. But his lips won’t move. His lungs won’t inflate. His throat won’t dare release the words he knows should come.

You scramble frantically, grabbing the small decorative pillow you’d crushed beneath your shoulder blade and pointlessly use the satin square to maintain even a bit of modesty. Speech evades you as well and you’re left staring dumbly at your unmoving stepfather, eyes wide and doe-like in a way that is making this situation much, much worse for him.

Bucky’s lungs finally release the imprisoned oxygen trapped among his ribs and he nearly chokes as he swallows shakily. He tells himself to look away, but his eyes refuse to obey. How could they when they are so graciously being given the privilege of caressing such excess of your beautiful skin; the perfection of your bra-clad breasts swaying with each rise and fall of your chest, the slope of your waist and hips beckoning him to traverse the ethereal lines of your body, the nervous shifting of your shapely legs as you shrink behind your pillow and prudishly attempt to hide yourself from him?

Every part of Bucky’s body screams at him, beseeching and begging for him to turn away; to leave you alone before he steps past a point from which he can’t truly return. Every part aside from one. He cannot ignore the rush of blood that swells his cock beneath the constricting fabric of his jeans. He should, but it is all too overwhelming. Too tempting.

His knees threaten to buckle as he mentally pleads with his booted feet not to move from where they’ve planted themselves in your doorway. The place where the wooden floors of the hall meet the plush carpet of your room serve as an all too literal line he knows should never be crossed. Two little words is all it takes to drag him willingly across that moral divide.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the breathy, wavering voice or the diffident way you bat your big eyes at him, but your tiny utterance draws him in like a moth to a forbidden flame; the inferno of your taboo light prepared to singe his malleable wings. Your next words further erode his dwindling ability to bite back his most loathsome desires.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” you murmur, eyes growing teary with apparent embarrassment at having been caught in such a vulnerable position.

Bucky wants to ask, but he knows precisely what you mean. Even if he longs to hear you say the words and admit that you had scurried away to your room to get yourself off, he will spare you the humiliation. At least for now. The quiver of your lip — chewed raw and plump with irritation — and the needy hunger which still clouds your eyes nearly crumbles Bucky to the floor; where he knows he’d find reverence at your feet, clinging to you like a man lost at sea.

His legs carry him trance-like until he stands mere inches from your bed, practically within arm’s reach of your restless and rigid frame. Bucky knows what you need — can read it boldly written in every nuanced flutter of your distraught visage — and he’s willing to dive headfirst into the illicit debauchery to provide. He only hopes you’ll fall with him.

“Can I help you out?” he prompts, knuckles popping as he curls his fists at his sides. “Let me help you, baby.”

Bucky’s own desperation is woven like an intricate tapestry within the inflection of his beseeching words, your stomach tightens at the prospect that he may be just as troubled as you are by the oppressive yearning that has been silently establishing itself between the two of you.

As if attached to a string beyond your control, your head nods disjointedly. Your heart pounds with deafening force in your ears and the rush of blood drowns out all other sound around you. Bucky exhales sharply and you worry for a moment that he’s changed his mind, that he may have come to his senses and might dare to leave you here in this wanton state.

Much to your relief, he kicks off his boots then lifts one knee and presses it into the mattress near your shaking legs, his eyes glued to yours as he looks for any sign of distress. He finds none, instead only able to identify the blazing want that swirls in the blackened pools of your pupils as he settles in and kneels at the foot of your bed.

The warmth of a palm grasping your leg just above your calf makes you flinch and you gasp as if you’ve been burnt. Bucky is quick to hush you, holding your gaze as he gently pulls your legs up and directs your tensed body until you’re eased onto your back, your feet flat and situated between his parted thighs. Bucky’s body is considerably larger than yours, but in this position, his broad frame is even more powerful and formidable than ever. You clutch firmly to the pillow that barely covers your body, your little fingers aching from the force of your grip.

“You’re okay,” Bucky assures you, his voice dipping low and vibrating like a ricocheting shot through each of your nerve endings. “It’s just us. Let me see you, sweetheart.”

He senses your hesitation, though he can see how eager you are to please him as well. The corner of his mouth quirks knowingly and he caresses each of your knees, sliding his calloused palms over your skin in gentle circles before he scoots closer so he can reach the soft plushness of your thighs. His touch settles there for a moment, then moves inward and upward until your legs are forced to part to make room for his sizable hands. Your breath hitches as Bucky inches closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, then changes direction until his hands find your ankles and pull your feet out to bracket either side of his own thighs.

Bucky asks again, tenderly requesting for you to open up for him. And you do; unfurling yourself like a blooming flower, your petals fragile and delicate as you reveal the softest parts of yourself to him. Uncertain what sort of grasp he has on his waning restraint, Bucky defies the ever-present voice that calls out in the back of his head and allows his eyes to fall to the space he’s opened between your legs.

Tucked amid the velvety flesh of your thighs, he finds a light-colored portion of fabric; the gusset of your panties peeking out and undeniably damp. The thin material clings to you like a second skin and he can make out the distinct seam of your cunt through the moist spot that stains it. Bucky swears he could cum from that obscene sight alone. He stares unabashedly at your wet panties and the mere suggestion of what lies just beneath them as if it’s the last sight his eyes will ever have the honor of seeing; devouring each and every detail of the ripe fruit he longs to know the flavor of.

Although he’s done nothing irredeemable just yet, Bucky knows what has already happened will forever change your relationship regardless. For God’s sake, he’s perched at the end of his half-naked stepdaughter’s bed like a lascivious demon of lust, claws prepared to dig deep into her as he fights the urge to drag her off to Hell with him. He gratefully consumes every bit of your nubile body that you present to him, a sacrifice on an altar which he can only hope will be enough to sate the beast inside him. Deep down, he knows it isn’t.

“Do you want to touch yourself for me?” Bucky implores, offering you the option to accept or deny his indecorous solicitation.

Without much further thought, the relentless throbbing in your core prompts you to extract one hand from the pillow still held tightly in your arms. Though the fingers of one hand still hold tight to the silky fabric, the others trail delicately across your lower belly and over your pelvis. Your touch stutters when your fingertips reach the soft cotton of your plain panties, but the flash of triumph in Bucky’s azure eyes encourages you to keep going.

You’re unsure and arrhythmic at first contact with your sensitive folds, fingers pressing apprehensively through the thin barrier of your underwear. When Bucky’s lips part on a heated sigh and his fingers knead your thighs, you swirl your digits more confidently, breath catching in your throat as pleasure prickles under your skin. Your hips twitch upwards into your own touch and Bucky’s jaw tightens, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the hand between your gorgeous thighs, much as he wants to look up and see the veil of gratification he knows must grace your face.

Bucky takes all you offer with greed and haste, praying that he possesses the strength not to take more. But more is all he wants. He craves it, he needs it. Palming himself through the detestable material of his jeans, Bucky absorbs every precise flick of your wrist, his mind cataloging each little sound and simper you make beneath the ministration of your own hand. Just as he feared, it isn’t enough.

“Pull your panties to the side,” he demands, his voice sharp and commanding. “I wanna see all of you.”

You both know if you do this — if you allow yourselves to get carried away in such a manner — then there is no going back. As it stands, you can still change your minds and salvage some semblance of a normal relationship; show some discipline and save yourselves from the bitter reality of the betrayal and sin you’re so painfully close to the precipice of.

“I won’t touch you,” Bucky says, as if he senses the source of your worry and his promise might serve to assuage your fears.

And perhaps it would have if your doubts were borne from a place of morality. But they aren’t. You need him to touch you because — loathe as you are to admit the ignominious truth — you want more, too. You want anything and everything he’s willing to give you and then some. So you heed his order and curl your damp fingers around the even damper material of your panties, slowly easing them to the side to reveal your slick center to his ravenous stare. Bucky growls at the sight.

“You’re already so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they could crack. “Rub yourself.”

His voice takes on a tone of impatience as he squeezes the girth of his painfully swollen cock through his pants. You obey his request without hesitation this time, gently dragging your fingertips through the juices that have spilled from your core as you rub them up and down. Bucky is keenly aware of the way your fingers seem to avoid your clit. Pushing your legs wider, he settles deeper into his haunches to unlatch his belt and lower his zipper to relieve some of the steadily growing pressure.

“Touch yourself here,” Bucky demands, one hand reaching for your wrist and drawing your hand higher. “Show me how you’d do it if I wasn’t here. Make yourself feel good.”

Admittedly, you’d been avoiding direct stimulation of the bundle of nerves. You’re terrified of losing yourself completely and falling apart beneath Bucky’s scrutinous and watchful eye. It’s obvious from the way he licks his lips and stares you down with intensity that this is exactly what he wants. Even more obvious when you do as he asks and he shoves a hand behind the open zipper of his pants, burrowing under the tight elastic of his underwear to grasp his swelling length.

You begin to wriggle as you touch yourself, your toes curling restlessly into your sheets as your fingers swirl around your sensitive clit. Bucky’s eyes are glued to the motions of your hand, entranced by the subtle sounds of your slick folds as you massage them intermittently. His heart slams against the walls of his chest, beating to the same rhythm of your frantic little breaths and feminine sighs. Your eyes had shut as you slipped into ecstasy, but they fly open when you hear the jingling of Bucky’s dangling belt.

“Gotta touch myself, baby,” he confesses as he pulls his cock free, the weight of it making it bob between his thighs as a fresh rush of blood flows through his veins. “You got me so goddamn hard.”

As he wraps a fist around the thick base of his cock and begins to stroke it firmly, Bucky can’t help the loud and raspy moan that bounces off the walls. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up and you lick your lips at the sight of him fondling his impressive manhood; can’t help wondering how little it would take for you to let him have you. When he shifts closer and slides between your parted thighs, he sees the flash of apprehension.

“We can touch ourselves together, right?” he states softly. “I won’t do anything to you.”

He wants to add ‘unless you want me to’, although he allows the amending words to remain unspoken. Your doleful eyes tell him everything he needs to know: you need him — are desperate for him, even — and you’re so deliciously close to breaking. Your whispered request only assures him of that.

“W-will you kiss me?” you peep nervously.

At first, Bucky isn’t sure. You’ve already come this far, but he worries making physical contact with you will rip his shaky control of this situation right out of his hands. Still, he can’t say no when you’ve asked him so sweetly in that innocent little voice of yours and he ultimately gives in.

Leaning over you, Bucky brushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear; ghosting his fingers along the edge of your jaw until his hand hovers over your mouth and his thumb hooks over your lower lip. You accept it easily, swirling your tongue and suckling gratefully at the long digit as Bucky presses it shallowly in and out of your mouth.

“Is that what you need?” Bucky breathes. “You promise you’ll keep being good for me if I kiss you?”

Nodding both dumbly and eagerly, you pout when his spit-soaked thumb slips free and leaves a trail of saliva down your chin. Though your disappointment is quickly forgotten as Bucky braces a hand on either side of your head and lowers his torso close to yours. His lips part and his warm breath washes over you as his face settles an inch from yours.

He kisses you chastely at first. Several short and slow pecks which you gladly accept are pressed to your soft mouth and you moan against him as you continue to work your fingers over your pulsing center. When he tries to pull back, you chase his lips; your teeth nipping at the plush flesh until he ceases the retreat. Your earnestness causes Bucky to grow impossibly harder and he mashes his mouth against yours. Unsure how you pluck up the courage, you force his lips apart and plunge your tongue into his mouth the second you have the opportunity to do so.

Bucky sinks further into the heated kiss and as he does, the leaking tip of his heavy cock brushes along your thigh, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum in its wake. He groans brokenly into your mouth at the contact with the silky warmth of your flesh, his abs clenching as he gnashes his teeth against the unexpected stimulation. He looks down at you, nearly snapping when you peer up at him as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Is this okay?” he wonders, steadily pushing his hips forward so his dick grinds against your thigh more firmly. “Feels so fucking good, honey.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for a response or permission, rather he kisses you again and continues to use your soft skin to pleasure himself. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re more than happy to acquiesce in the interest of Bucky’s satisfaction. He assaults your mouth, leaving you panting and breathless as he shifts his hips and his cock moves lower until the crease of your thigh cradles the mass of the thick appendage. Your shocked inhale prompts him to back off only because he knows he’ll have more success if he eases you into it.

You nod your approval when Bucky asks if he can take off your panties, watching with rapt attention as he eases the dampened fabric along the curve of your legs; he lifts them and pushes your knees towards your chest to drag your underwear over your ankles and discard the crumpled material. Heat rises in your face when your legs fall open again and you’re bared entirely to Bucky.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself with those little fingers,” he breathes, barely managing to stop himself from exploding when you nervously bite your lip and wither slightly as you divert your wide eyes. “You gettin’ shy on me, baby girl?”

“A little,” you manage to giggle.

The urge to cover your bare body flees when Bucky swirls his thumb over the head of his cock and curses under his breath. His unflinching stare beckons you to continue obeying him and the way he looks at you as if he wants nothing more than to devour you whole is incentive enough for you to slip your fingers down low and circle your dripping entrance.

Bucky jerks himself with vigor as your delicate digits bury themselves in your pussy, pornographic sounds emanating from your center as you slowly fuck yourself. He burrows a hand under your hips and draws your body closer to his. Heat pulses off of your flesh and he angles his cock so close to your core that he swears he can feel the humidity of your pussy. As you rub yourself more frantically, your knuckles occasionally brush his swollen head, leaving behind slippery beads of pre-cum that seep between your fingers.

You’re dripping wet by now and Bucky notices the tumescence of your flooding arousal shining in the pale moonlight that splashes across your squirming body. He’s so enthralled by the beautifully naughty picture you make that he doesn’t even protest when he feels your curious fingers dancing along the firm ridge of his cockhead. Both of you are too far gone, too torqued up to consider the consequences or even the immorality of what you’re doing.

When you gather some of your slick and smear it over the spongy tip of his dick, Bucky swears he could see sound and taste colors. His ears ring and his head swims, frozen in place by the ineffable sensation of your timid touch. A shiver wracks his body when you begin to wrap a hand around him, pushing his fist out of the way to stroke his cock for him. Your juices smooth the way and the distinct veins that decorate his length pulse angrily beneath your palm.

Feeling bold, you lift your hips slightly upwards and swirl the turgid flesh through your folds, twitching when Bucky’s tip hits your swollen clit. The stimulation paired with your audacity to behave so rakishly pushes him uncomfortably close to a premature release, prompting him to grab your wrist and wrench your hand away from his aching erection. You whine unhappily, but he’s quick to soothe your disapproval.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praises. “I’m just gonna rub on you like this.”

Buck demonstrates by sliding his cock through your folds, you slick coating the underside of his length and squelching audibly when he draws his hips back again. He keeps grinding himself along your needy pussy until you grow dizzy and frantic with need. The friction of his hot flesh is driving you insane and the pressure of his hardened, bulbous head rutting against your clit nearly sends you over the edge.

“Bucky, I—” you choke out, unable to voice the inconceivable appeal you want to make.

Your moaning and wriggling sets his teeth on edge and his muscles twitch with the restraint he forces himself to exert. He coos over you — smug and condescending — watching the rapturous way in which your eyes roll as you bite your lip until it bleeds. Bucky can see the words you want to spit out as if to rid your mouth of the acrid taste of them, but you fight it. He’s determined to hear you voice them.

“What is it, little one?” he whispers. “Do you want more?”

Suddenly unsure, you smile shyly and shake your head, though Bucky can still see the indecision burning in your eyes. It won’t be long before you change your mind. In fact, he intends to make certain that you do. He needs to touch you, to give you what he knows you need. He wants to make you fall apart. You’ll beg for release, from his fingers or his mouth...and he tells himself that that’s okay. That’s acceptable. He wouldn’t really be doing something wrong if he gets you off without burying himself in your young, willing body...would he?

When the blunt head of his cock catches on your neglected hole, your pussy spasms and your brain short circuits, prompting you to blurt out without thinking about or considering the impact of your words.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, your plea shaky with unshed tears.

“Don’t,” Bucky barks instantaneously.

His sharp tone surprises you as Bucky has never once raised his voice, let alone been stern with you. You cower beneath his unexpected firmness, your eyes growing wetter.

“We can’t do that,” he insists, his resolve even weaker than his flimsy voice. “I can’t fuck you, baby girl.”

The forlorn way you whimper immediately has him questioning his own convictions and when you reach for his cock and mash it even more firmly against your drippy cunt to force your sodden lips to separate and hug the girth of him, he’s never believed in something less. And when you wrap your fingers around the base of him to guide the shiny, reddened tip to the entrance of your pussy where you just barely breach yourself and cry out at the tight feeling, he knows then and there that he is going to fuck you.

“Is that what you really want?” he bites harshly, taking his weight on one hand so he can press the palm of the other against your throat, finger curling around your esophagus until he’s sure he has your full attention. “You need your daddy inside you, huh?”

“I…I want you,” you blubber.

The tears that finally trickle from the corners of your eyes snaps what little sanity Bucky has left, he surrenders any desire to uphold some level of propriety with you. He picks up where you left off, guiding the tip of his cock to your weeping, wanting cunt and drives his hips slightly forward. Offering only a few short and shallow strokes, Bucky fucks you with just the first inch or so of his cock; the stretch is dizzying nonetheless.

You’re satisfied with the initial drags of his cock only for a moment before you writhe beneath him and try to take him deeper with all the subtlety of a brick. But Bucky pulls away, denying you the satisfaction of feeling more than just the tip of his fat cock. Somehow, he manages yet again to convince himself that if he doesn’t fuck you any deeper than this, he’s still done nothing wrong. If it’s just the tip, he isn’t truly fucking you; he isn’t cheating on his wife or corrupting his sweet, young stepdaughter.

He maintains his composure for significantly longer than he thought possible before he can resist no longer. You gasp and moan in a way befitting of the filthiest of whores and your back arches when he dares to slip you another inch.

The heat of your tight cunt swallowing him up and hugging his cock snugly seeps so deep into him that he feels the warmth in his bones. You squeal loudly in surprise when Bucky lurches forward and impales you, his thickness splits you open and stretches your pussy with almost unbearable yet fulfilling pressure. He places a hand on each of your hips, stilling your fidgeting and wiggling as you endeavor to ease away from the overwhelming sensation of his cock sliding all the way to the hilt. Bucky keeps you in place, reveling in the way your slick walls ripple and squeeze as he makes sure you go nowhere.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” he soothes with slight condescension, curling his body over yours to capture your lips in a fervid kiss. “You felt too good, I had to feel all of you.”

You can only whimper in response, altogether unaccustomed to feeling so full. Bucky carefully cradles your head, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to fuck you with deep and steady strokes. His cock feels indescribable as it drives into you, coated in your slippery cream and hard as steel. With each plunge into your clenching pussy, Bucky grunts deeply in your ear. His fingers thread more tightly in your hair, harshly yanking the strands as he pumps his hips with more and more force.

The head of his cock bumps your cervix on each downstroke and it knocks a wavering cry from your lungs with precise reliability, Bucky becoming more and more certain that you utter the pathetic noises with the intention of taunting him and egging him on. He turns his head, swallowing your salacious cries as they grow in volume.

You’re caged in by his muscular arms as he presses your chest to his, ensuring that you take every inch he’s forcing into your pliant body. He just about loses his mind when he can feel you using your feet for leverage to drop your hips and meet his every thrust, extending his arms so he can look down and watch you greedily engulf his cock.

“Tight little cunt…feel so much better than your mother. You’re being so good for me, baby. My nasty little girl, huh?” he encourages. “Just like that, I’m so fucking close. Gonna cum on these pretty tits.”

To drive the point home, Bucky claws at the cups of your bra to release the bouncing globes. He palms the flesh, grinding his palms into your sensitive nipples and adoring the way your pussy constricts in kind. Your arms had pulled up and come to rest against your ribs and your little hands curl and unfurl atop your torso, blindly searching for something to grasp.

Bucky snatches up the pillow you’d tossed aside earlier and presses it to your belly, encouraging you to grab hold of the plush object. You do so gratefully, fingers digging forcefully into it to hold it tight as Bucky shoves your knees towards your chest and his cock slides in and out of you with ease.

While Bucky did have every intention of pulling out and blowing his load on your breasts as promised, the feral sound that rattles deep in your throat like an animal in heat makes him rethink the option. The sight of you powerless and tiny beneath him — pathetically clutching your pillow with both your eyes and lips opened wide with ecstasy as he watches the thickness of his cock disappearing within your little pussy, spreading and stretching you out with each swivel of his hips — leaves him without much choice.

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

He can’t hold back now, can’t deny either one of you the delectation of him leaving you completely full and sated. Especially not when he feels you grind your hips to sink further down onto him until the thatch of hair at the base of his cock tickles your clit and your legs pull tight around his hips.

The weight of Bucky’s body crushes the pillow between your bodies as he leans in to bite your neck, growling in response to your lamenting wail. The room is filled with the sound of raucous slapping as your skin makes sharp and consistent contact, the backs of your thighs slamming into Bucky’s hips with every violent thrust he imparts on you. You’re practically screaming by the time your orgasm overtakes you and the constriction of your pussy relentlessly gripping his cock flings Bucky over his own precipice.

“Ohhh, fuck…that’s it, honey. Just like that. Such a good fuckin’ slut,” Bucky hisses, beginning to ramble as the first spurt of cum spills, his balls pulsing with force. “Stay right there. Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good.”

You know you should refuse, push Bucky off and stop him from burying his seed in your pussy. But you cannot deny the fact that somewhere deep down, this is what you’ve wanted all along. To be his and to be marked as such. When you feel his cock jump inside you and the noticeable warmth of his cum seeps into your womb, you do exactly as he requests and you stay put as he pumps his hips shallowly and fucks his spurting cum even deeper.

Tipping your head, you latch your teeth into the collar of Bucky’s shirt as his body spasms above you, muscles twitching and rippling with his powerful release. He pins you in place with his body, focusing his weight against your wiggling hips until he’s positive you’ve milked every last drop of cum from his slick-soaked dick. You squeak in discomfort when he presses his pelvis flush to yours, the depth of his cock making your insides ache.

Bucky remains there — buried as deep as he can physically get — until he can catch his breath and his dick begins to soften. When he pulls out, the thick white trickle of cream begins to spill out immediately. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of a car outside and while you know you should be rushing to cover up and Bucky should be slipping away unnoticed from your bedroom, he seems to have other ideas.

Thick fingers sweep through the stickiness of Bucky’s spend, smearing it all over your puffy folds and coating your swollen clit in a layer of cum. He spends a dizzying amount of time focusing his touch on the over-stimulated bundle of nerves, only stopping when you begin to flinch and whine beneath his touch. Once you do, he chooses instead to gather the rest of what drips from your wrecked pussy on his fingers before slowly and methodically stuffing the long digits inside of you, shoving his cum back inside.

Satisfied with how his cum is now smeared over every inch of your pussy — both inside and out — Bucky brings his slippery fingers to his mouth, lewdly sucking your combined juices from his skin. He licks his lips for good measure, then hops gingerly from your bed to tug his boots back onto his feet. Bucky turns to you, proudly observing your limp, satiated body and the look on your tear-streaked face as he lovingly caresses the inside of your right thigh where some of your fluids have smeared. He fights the urge to bury his fingers knuckle-deep in your leaking pussy when he spies the cum that starts to seep out again.

“Come say goodnight to your mother,” he directs as he carefully stuffs his softened length back into his pants before looming over you to speak against your parted lips. “Be a good girl and I’ll come back later to tuck you in.”

With that, Bucky kisses you sloppily then exits your room without another word. You’re left lying there, alone and exhausted; legs shaking and your stepfather’s cum oozing from your sore pussy as you hear the distant sound of your mother’s voice downstairs.

Part Two

• Series Masterlist •

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

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