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souliebird · 18 days

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[[and then I met you || ch. 17]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

“No.”

Minnie plants her little feet firmly on the sidewalk and pulls her hands out of your and Matt’s grips so she can make her point by crossing her arms over her chest. A pout starts forming on her face and you have the feeling this is as far as your daughter will be going.

Across the street looms Clinton Church and you can understand why your daughter does not want to go anywhere near it. The building is as imposing as it is grand with its traditional architecture half shadowed in the morning sun. There is light reflecting off the many windows, casting little glares that you are sure Minnie can interpret in multiple ways - including eyes looking down at her.

Try as you might, you can’t imagine what else your little one must be picking up from the building. Is there someone praying inside? Or chanting? What sort of terrifying noises is the building making? How many rats are scurrying around the grounds, hissing and eeking and becoming unseen monsters?

How many real monsters are there?

Right now, the only monster you know of is the one in your chest named Anxiety. It is roaring inside you and causing all sorts of ruckus.

You know Minnie can pick up on your upset, and it is probably influencing her, but no amount of breathing exercises or chamomile tea is going to relax you.

Meeting someone’s parents is always going to be nerve wracking under any circumstance - but meeting the mother of the man who fathered your child? Who already has a unique and slightly estranged relationship with her son?

Frankly, you’d rather give birth again.

To make matters worse for your over analyzing, Matt's mother is a nun.

You have never interacted with a nun before, and your mind has been nonstop screaming that you are going to make an absolute fool of yourself. You are convinced you are going to say something dumb - like Jesus is stupid or some other blasphemous thing.

You don't even know what counts as blasphemy, but you know your mouth will find a way to make you want to sink into the floor and disappear forever.

You are on the same page as Minnie and don't want to take another step toward the Church.

“No?” Matt questions, tilting his head down towards his daughter. He looks a bit baffled, like he can’t understand why she’s taken such a stance. You know he is nervous about the meeting as well, having told you such earlier, but you don’t think he realizes how much his nerves, on top of your own, are affecting Mouse and her fear of the new big building.

“No.” Your daughter repeats, giving a tiny stomp of one foot to emphasize her point.

“No, what, sweetheart?” He kneels down to be on the same level as her, but you have a feeling that isn't going to help much. Minnie has made her decision and trying to sway a determined, upset toddler is a near impossible task.

“I don't wanna,” she tells him, her voice starting to get whiny. She turns away from him to press herself into your leg, her pout growing even bigger.

Matt knits his brows together, confusion clear, “You don't want to go to the park?”

Technically, you are supposed to meet Matt's mother in the Church park that is between the main building and the orphanage but as far as you are concerned, all of the grounds are Church. Apparently, your daughter feels the same.

“No. I don't wanna,” she declares, which quickly turns into the chant of, “I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna!”

You can feel the tantrum coming and intervene, scooping Minnie up and hugging her to you. She instantly clings to you, burying her face against your neck with an additional almost screech of, “I don't wanna!”

You start to gently rock her from side to side and rub at her back to try and soothe her. You kiss her hair and promise, “We don’t have to go, baby. It is okay.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like a grade A asshole.

Matt’s face crumbles into heartbreak and you totally deserve to walk into traffic. He had opened up to you about his mother - about how she had left him as a baby only to end up raising him after his father had been killed - but not telling him who she was. He told you how he only recently learned the truth - less than a year ago - and how hard it was for him.

But now he had you and Minnie and maybe, just maybe, you could all learn to be a family together.

Anxiety overdrive kicks in and a potential solution tumbles out of your mouth, “What if we go somewhere else instead? Somewhere we’ve been before?”

Matt lifts his head up at you, so you see yourself in his glasses, and for a second you think he's going to argue - insist you go to the Church playground - but then he tilts it towards where you don't want to go. You don't know what he is listening for, but after a moment, he stands again. He steps closer, a hand going to sit on your waist and trapping Minnie between the two of you. She stays nestled against you, little fist tight on your shirt, but you find yourself breathing a little easier at his touch.

“Would the office be okay? Foggy is out meeting clients and Karen is at the Bulletin today, it will just be us.” He offers quietly. Relief washes through you at the suggestion - you think the office would be a much easier meeting place.

But it is not your decision to make. You gently bounce Mouse to get her attention and ask, “Do you want to go to Daddy’s work?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her twist your shirt in her hands. You can tell she is thinking over her answer, so you wait, trying to focus on your daughter instead on how firm Matt’s hand is on your waist. It takes about twenty seconds, but Minnie finally nods into your shoulder.

“Okay, We’ll go to Daddy's work.”

To reward her for being so brave, you press a kiss to your daughter’s hair and Matt quickly mimics you. Minnie clings tighter to you at the affection and you think she is going to remain tense and upset until you are far away from the Church.

“Okay. Wait here, I'll go tell Sister Maggie about the change in plans,” Matt tells you and you wonder if it is really okay with him.

You know you and Minnie meeting her is important to Matt, but is the location important as well or is it just convenient? You are too wound up to ask and fearing you won't like the answer, you keep your mouth shut and focus on rocking Mouse.

Matt gives Minnie another kiss as he tightens his grip on you just slightly. It isn’t painful, but you get the impression he does not want to let go. You want to lean into the touch, your overactive mind telling you it might be nice if he never let you go, but before you can process those feelings, he is pulling away and crossing the street.

You step to the side, so you don’t impede foot traffic, and watch as he navigates past the cars and disappears around the side of the large building. Once he is out of sight, you look down to your daughter.

You want to ask her why she doesn’t want to go to the park at the Church, so you can better understand how she sees the world, but you also don’t want to put too much pressure on her. She’s already clearly upset, and you think trying to get her to answer your questions will just make things worse.

So, you focus on making things better for her.

“Would you like your headphones, Minnie?”

That gets her to lift her head up to look at you, squinting like she’s trying to determine if this is some sort of trap. Eventually she gives you one curt nod before hiding her face again.

You are a pro at being able to maneuver to get into your purse while carrying a toddler and soon enough you are handing over neon blue headphones. She needs no help in unfolding them and situating them over her ears, and once they are on, she snuggles herself back into your arms. You have no issues or complaints with the action - you simply begin to rock her again and hope this mood subsides once you are at Matt’s office.

You think about ways to get Minnie to interact with Matt’s mother as you wait for Matt to reappear. You think this might be the perfect time for parallel play - you’ve got a few coloring books stuffed in your purse, along with some small toys. You think it may be best to let her do her own thing while the adults talk, and that she comes over when she’s ready.

You hope that Sister Maggie understands that would be ideal - you know she helps to raise children, so she must understand that some kids are shyer than others. Pushing Minnie to interact when she’s fussy will only result in tears.

Possibly your own.

A few more minutes pass before Matt returns to the sidewalk followed by who you assume to be his mother. She's dressed in a gray and blue smock dress and matching habit, which is far less intimidating than the all black look you were expecting. She has an air of authority about her, holding herself tall as she walks, and you have the feeling she is a no-nonsense person.

You pray to a God you don’t really believe in that this meeting goes better than you fear it will.

You move to meet the pair as they cross the street to you and offer what you hope to be a warm smile. The smile, though not as overtly friendly as yours, is returned and Matt does the honor of introducing you. You adjust your hold on your daughter so you can shake the woman's hand.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew has told me wonderful things about you,” Sister Maggie says before directing her attention to her granddaughter. “And who might this little one be?”

To no surprise to you, Minnie attempts to burrow into you more at the question, smushing her face hard into your neck. You rub her back, trying to let her know everything is okay.

“This is Minnie, she's a little shy right now.”

Sister Maggie gives a knowing nod, “New places can be intimidating.” She drops her voice just slightly, in what you guess is an attempt to be comforting, and addresses Minnie, “Did your father tell you this is where he grew up?”

He did - you and Matt explained the outing to your daughter, but you don’t know how much she understood. You do know no amount of sweet talk will change her mind, even if it is about her new favorite subject - her Daddy.

“I don't wanna go,” Mouse mumbles against you defiantly. You aren't sure if Sister Maggie can hear her, but you know Matt can. He steps forward, once again boxing in Minnie between the two of you and leans down to kiss the back of her head.

“We're not going there, princess. We're going to Daddy's office, remember? You've been there before,” he whispers into her hair. She shifts around in your arms a bit before giving another nod. You can feel her jutting out her bottom lip against your neck and part of you thinks you should call this all off and reschedule - but you aren’t going to do that to Matt.

Sister Maggie is watching your little family’s interaction, and you can’t bear to look in her direction to see what her reaction is, if she has one. Your anxiety has only prepared you for the worst.

“Perhaps we should start heading that way instead of saying where we are not going,” the nun advises after a moment and instinct and rational has you agreeing with her.

“I think that would be best.”

Matt pulls away from you and Minnie and you watch with downcast eyes as Sister Maggie offers her son her arm. He seems hesitant to take it, but he does, and your little group starts moving away from the Church and towards Nelson, Page, and Murdock.

The walk is quiet and you use the time to try and desperately calm your nerves, if only for the sake of your daughter.

You think about Matt and what kind of person he is - he is full of love and care. He got those traits somewhere, and whether you argue Nature or Nurture, Sister Maggie has certainly influenced that. Did she encourage his Goodness? She must have had some sort of positive influence if he is not only wanting her to be in his life, but his daughter’s life, as well.

You know some people believe family comes before anything, even if they treat you horribly, but you also know that if Sister Maggie was not a Good person, Matt would not allow her near Minnie.

He wouldn’t risk losing his relationship with his daughter.

That is something you have no doubts about.

As you arrive at Matt’s office building, Minnie lifts her head up off your shoulder. She wrinkles up her nose like she’s thinking hard before pointing to the plaque that state’s the firm’s name. You give her a warm smile, proud of her for recognizing it, but that only makes her squirrel away again.

This is the behavior you are used to seeing from your daughter in public - overly shy and not wanting to interact. You aren’t sure if the nerves and uncomfortableness from the church still linger, but you hope that once you are upstairs, she will start warming up a little. You won’t push her to do something she doesn’t want to do, but for Matt’s sake, you would like her to at least try talking to her grandmother.

Matt leads you all into the building and up the stairs. Sister Maggie runs a finger over the banister as you climb the stairs, giving a pleased hum, “Franklin did an amazing job cleaning this place up. Tell me that nose of yours helped in getting rid of all the mold.”

Matt huffs at the comment, “The property manager hired someone to come do that.”

“And did they get it all?”

Matt’s mouth presses into a thin line and you already know the answer.

“No, we spent a weekend getting the rest of it.”

You stop in front of the Nelson, Page, and Murdock office, and as Matt fishes out the key, you look up and down the hallway, mulling over what is implied.

“You cleaned the whole building?”

“Oh no, we couldn’t get permission from the other businesses to do that, but we did what we could to the public space and our offices. People feel comfortable here now.”

The door is opened and as you all file in, Matt suggests hanging out in the conference room. It has a nice window and plenty of space to sprawl out, so you have no objections.

You set Minnie down as Sister Maggie and Matt head into the other room. She instantly clings to your leg, practically hiding behind it. You pet her hair a few times before pulling her away just enough so you can kneel down to talk with her. As soon as you are at her level, she is trying to get into your arms again.

You let her hug onto you as you let her know what is going on, “Hey Mouse, do you remember earlier when I told you we were going to meet Daddy’s Mommy?” She nods but says nothing, so you continue on. “That is her. She wants to talk to me and Daddy and you and get to know us so she can be part of our family, too. But you don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, okay? I have your coloring books and you can color while we talk.”

That gets her to pull back just a hair and peek up at you with big brown eyes, “What are you gonna talk abouts?”

You smile at the question and gently run your hands over her back, “All sorts of things, but we’re going to end up talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. If you don’t want us to talk about you, you can tell me, okay? We’ll talk about something else.”

“But I don’ gotta talk?”

You nod, and let your bag fall off your shoulder. Minnie’s new zoo themed coloring book and crayons are easy to pull out and you offer them to your daughter. She lets go of you to greedily take her toys and hug them to her chest.

“You don’t need to talk,” you confirm. “Do you want to sit at the table, or do you want to sit on the floor?”

Minnie considers the question, and you take advantage of no longer being hugged onto to stand up. Your little one peeks towards the conference room, then back up to you, and declares, “I wanna sit on Daddy’s lap.”

You feel so much pride over your daughter making such a bold decision.

“Okay, let’s go ask Daddy if you can sit in his lap.” You know Matt would never deny her, but you do want to drill in making sure Minnie asks permission first.

She waits for you to lead the way before following you into the conference room. Matt and Sister Maggie are sitting opposite each other, and Matt has already scooted his chair out and is holding his hands out to help Minnie into his lap.

“Daddy!”

She hurries to him and gets scooped up and crushed into a hug. She hugs back best she can while holding her coloring book.

You take the chair beside Matt and finally allow yourself to look at the nun across from you. She’s watching Matt and Minnie with an almost unreadable expression, but there is something soft behind her eyes - like she’s been keeping it repressed for years.

But then she catches you looking, and the softness is gone, replaced by that All-Knowing Nun look you’ve seen in movies before.

“How old is she?” Sister Maggie asks, and you can’t help but flush at her directness.

“Almost four, her birthday is on the 28th,” you reply, forcing yourself to not completely avert your gaze and hideaway.

She raises her brows before turning her sharp gaze to Matt, accusing him with, “You did not mention her birthday was coming up.”

He has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “There were a few other things to cover, first.”

The older woman shakes her head, “Priorities, Matthew. I may be new to being a grandmother, but you know well I have raised plenty of children and we have never skimped on birthdays. We may not always have the money to spoil someone, but we do well to make sure they know they are loved.” She looks back to you, “Do you have plans for the day?”

“Oh, um, the zoo. We’re going to go to the zoo,” you tell her.

Beside you, Minnie has slipped down into Matt’s lap, so she is sitting. She has started to flip through her coloring book, examining each picture before making her decision about what to color. At the mention of the zoo, she quietly mimics you, “Going to the zoo.”

Matt breaks into a smile at the words, looking proud as can be that Minnie spoke around his mother. He wraps his arms around her middle and you have the feeling he wants to crush her to his chest again but is resisting.

Sister Maggie seems to know Minnie isn’t speaking to her, but just in general, and keeps the conversation to you, “That sounds like a lovely birthday. Zoo trips are always a delight with the kids.” She tilts her head slightly to the left before continuing on, “Matthew said you do not have a support network.”

“That isn’t what I said!” Matt quickly says, before turning his head towards you, “That isn’t what I said.”

Sister Maggie scoffs, “It is what you meant, and it is not a bad thing. You more than anyone know what it means to have a support network. Now,” she says your name gently and offers you a somewhat kind smile, “You are welcome to come to the Church and use any of the services we offer, and you may come by anytime you need, day or night. We will always have our doors open for you.”

You stare across the table as you process the words she has said. Shame and embarrassment course through you at the idea of Matt talking about you. You know you’ve never really had anyone to turn to, but the thought of others discussing such matters makes you want to crawl into a hole and cry. Yet, on the other hand, the mere offer of being welcomed at the Church has you spiraling in all sorts of good and overwhelming ways.

But of course, instead of being thankful, the words that tumble out of your mouth are, “I’m not religious.”

“That changes nothing,” she says simply and somehow, sits up straighter, “I have been given a second chance to know my son and through this a blessing of a granddaughter. I will not run from these responsibilities again and -”

“Daddy,” Minnie suddenly says, cutting Sister Maggie off while pouring all her crayons out on the table, “Pick a color!”

Matt’s cheeks turn pink at the interruption, and you try to not slide down in your seat. You know you can’t expect your daughter to sit there quietly, even if she’s being a little fussy, especially if Matt is around. She’s a toddler.

Matt clears his throat and asks, “What colors are there, sweetheart?”

“There’s green, and blue, and purple, and red, and orange, and yellow,” she lists off, holding up each crayon as she does.

“Let’s go with red.”

“Okay!” Minnie picks up the chosen crayon and begins to carefully start coloring in a gorilla.

Since she spoke up on her own, you try to engage with your daughter to bring her out of her shell, “Can you tell Daddy what animal you’re coloring?”

You expect her to answer happily - after all she loves explaining things to Matt and she’s been learning all her zoo animals.

So of course, she does not do that. She whips her head around to look at you, and with the sternest little voice you have ever heard, barks out, “I don’t gotta talk!”

Your first instinct is to laugh at the outburst, but you bite down on your lip to control yourself. The urge passes quickly, and you decide you should praise your daughter for setting her boundaries, “That is right, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

She narrows her eyes at you for a moment, clearly judging you, before turning back to her artwork.

Only then do you allow yourself a chuckle.

To your surprise, Sister Maggie laughs as well. “Well, she is certainly a Murdock.”

That gets your attention and you and Matt both let out a curious, “Oh?”

“That little glare was all Murdock. I have seen it so many times from Matthew, who got it from his father,” she says and there is almost a fondness in her voice. “I expect the hands on the hips pose is genetic as well.”

Your eyes go wide at that. Matt’s father has never been brought up in depth before - you read the news article about his death in an online archive, and he was almost brushed over when Matt told you about his mother. You assumed, like your own parents, it was a sensitive topic.

“I..didn’t know that,” Matt starts slowly, and you can practically feel the emotion bubbling inside him. Without considering it, you reach across the small gap between your chairs and take his hand, squeezing it. He instantly squeezes back. “I don’t remember him ever doing that.”

“I suspect he tried to not let his frustrations show around you, but it is something I remember clear as day - Jack with his hands on his hips, glaring at the refrigerator because it dared to lose power during a blackout,” Sister Maggie tell him, before she motions to her eyes, “They may not be the same color, but that look is the identical.”

The room goes quiet, save the noise of Minnie scribbling. You keep your hand around Matt’s, trying to communicate you are there for him in his love language. He starts to roll his bottom lip between his teeth, and you wait for him to react before you do.

“You…,” Matt starts after a few more moments, voice almost warbling, “don’t talk about him. You don’t talk about him like that - what he was like.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never had reason to,” Sister Maggie says. She places her hands on the table in front of her, clasping them together, and she looks like she is about to give an interview. “But that has changed, clearly.” She looks from Matt to you, “Matthew said you were looking for family history. I do not have much from Jack’s side, but I can tell you what I do know, and I keep my own meticulous records. I believe reviewing these things, medical and non-medical, together, will…help us heal.”

You look to for his reaction. His mouth is parted, and he looks like he is going through his own emotional rollercoaster. You know how important family is to him and how dear this information must be to him, so you make a decision.

You lace your fingers with his and smile at Sister Maggie and ask, “How did you meet Jack?”

“Ah, yes, now that is a colorful story…”

a/n: maggie is v hard to write

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader

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bratphilia · 6 months

Text

grasp (w. afton x reader)

request: "I don’t really have a coherent story (just some thots) but i’d kill for some sort of smuttyyy ficlet that has the reader who is very short as in 4 foot 10 and has petite features (just like me 😵‍💫) being picked up and slung over Matthew Lillard!William Afton’s shoulder 🥴🥴 Include reader being scared and trying to wriggle free??? (due to her seeing or knowing something she shouldn’t have about Raglan) and some name-calling like ‘little one’, ‘good girl’ & ‘atta girl’ 🤤 - 🧸"

note: hi nonniebear!! i'm sorry if this fic is a little rushed but i tried to stay true to what you requested! hope you enjoy and feel free to keep sending in more ideas :)

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: bondage, praise kink, fingering, squirting, begging

fuck. you're really in for it now.

this yellowish, decaying rabbit stalks towards you, and there are four, sentient and bloodthirsty animatronics behind you.

you're stuck.

even worse, the rabbit came from the entrance, so if you were to try to make your escape that way there was a likelihood of you running into his knife.

"please," you find yourself pleading. "please don't kill me."

the rabbit laughs menacingly and bends down to your level. "how about this? i'll give you a head start."

without any further questions you bolt through the maze of halls and towards the office. you crouch down in front of the vent the rabbit was referring to and unscrew the bolts barricading it. thank god you're small enough to fit in the vents. this might actually work.

then you hear unmistakeable, thumping footsteps coming towards you.

it only hurries your actions. your heart rate rapidly increases. the screws are so aged with rust that it's hard to—

the door opens with a loud thud. you scream at the noise, and again when you're being lifted off the ground. it's the yellow rabbit.

it slings you over its shoulder with unmatched strength. you wail incoherent words and pleas as you pound the back of the suit with balled fists.

"help me!" you scream out to no one. "somebody help!"

the rabbit wordlessly carries you down the hall, to one of the locked doors you dared not to venture into during your shifts. it carried you down a couple stairs and then set you on a dentist-office-style chair.

at this point tears are rolling down your face. eyes are shut in fear of looking your captor in the eyes. uncontrollable sobs escape your mouth, praying that these aren't your final moments. then the rabbit wraps both hands (paws?) around your wrists and holds them to the arm handles so that restraints can bolt around them.

"oh, save it," he says, clearly annoyed with your crying. "i've heard it all before, you don't deserve to die, and all that."

your eyes shoot open. the rabbit's voice no longer sounds robotic and you realize you actually recognize it.

in a very dramatic fashion, it's steve raglan. your career counsellor, a.k.a the man who got you this job in the first place.

he almost looks ridiculous in the rabbit suit, which admittedly doesn't add much to his already sizeable frame, but you can't find the humor in the situation in which you could be seconds away from dying in.

"why?" you find yourself asking, suddenly more curious than hysteric. "why give me this job if you were just going to kill me in the end?"

"because you got a little too close to the truth, and for some reason, those brats up there were unable to take care of the job themselves," he snarls resentfully. he must be referencing the animatronics. it makes sense now— the kids in the drawings with the yellow rabbit on the wall.

"it was you. you killed those kids."

steve gives you a horrible smile. one that almost makes you weak, with that dimple you recognize from many conversations in his office. "you finally figured it out."

he walks behind you, shuffling around in the suit, and you crane your neck around to see him taking it off. he's wearing a white tee and dark purple slacks. he's not particularly muscular, but not thin either. it's a build specific to middle aged men. you hate to admit it, but your face flushes when you notice how large his hands are.

he catches you looking at him and smiles, cocking his head curiously. "see something you like, little night guard?" instantly you whip your head back around. your head is at a moral war with itself, with you being disappointed in yourself that you were actually checking out a child serial killer.

but steve doesn't leave it alone. once he abandons the suit, he swiftly strides over you. he places both hands on your restraints, caging you in. you shrink into yourself.

"i think," he says lowly, "i might have a different use for you, little one. one that we can both enjoy."

you swallow, not saying anything. steve reaches a hand up to slide down your face then cup your jaw. his hands are cold to the touch and it sends shivers down your spine.

you find your voice. "don't touch me."

"don't touch you? are you sure?" he says cockily and you can only glare at him in response.

"what if i just..." he trails off, sliding the hands on his face down your neck, your chest, abdomen, and eventually your core. he presses his hand there hard, making you jolt upwards and whimper. "so you don't want me to touch you, is what i'm hearing?"

fuck. this undeniably hot serial killer has you at his disposal and you can't help but feel turned on. if you're going to die, and your chances really aren't looking good for you, maybe you should just...

"please," you murmur, closing your legs so they trap his hand there.

"please, what?"

you swallow. "please fuck me."

"'atta girl." he grins from ear to ear. "y'know, all that begging you did earlier really did a number on me, but i must say i love this change of heart."

steve starts to undo the buttons of your slacks and begins to pull them down, leaving you bare in your underwear. it's at this point you realize how wet you are, and you try to relieve the tension in your core by squeezing your thighs together but he grabs your legs and presses them to your stomach. you're just so malleable to him.

he tugs off your panties and discards them mindlessly. "look at that," he marvels at your bare skin, "so pretty, little one."

you squirm against the restraints a little. at this point the anticipation will kill you faster than he will. you wish he would just touch you already, but you had to admit all his praises were only adding to your arousal.

steve decides to sit a little further down the chair and wordlessly plunges a finger inside your pussy. he goes deliberately slow, clearly gaging your reaction. "fuck," you mutter, and it takes all your strength to not buck your hips into his movements.

"you need this, don't you, sweet girl?" he muses, stopping the thrusting of his fingers, but still keeping them inside. "tell me."

"please, please, please..." tears coat your lashes from all the teasing. "'need it so bad."

he gives you a kind smile, one you haven't seen since you were back in his office. "good girls get what they ask for. "

steve slides in a second finger and begins to pump faster. it's an improvement but you find yourself needing more. you buck your hips up hoping he would get the message and he simply laughs lowly as he adds a third finger into the mix.

his pace gets progressively faster over time to your delight. the noises coming from your center is absolutely obscene. you can feel your juices dripping down onto the seat.

"ah — ah!" you cry out, feeling your orgasm nearing. "i'm coming — please, slow down—"

you squeeze your eyes shut. all the sudden the chair is abnormally wetter than you would have expected and— oh.

your face burns bright red. "i-i'm sorry..."

he's shocked, mouth agape and eyes slightly widened. then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "don't you dare apologize, little one, let's try that again."

#william afton #steve raglan #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf smut #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf x reader

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nickfowlerrr · 6 months

Text

your forever is all that i need.

pairing: max burnett x curvy!reader

warnings: angst! smut! some fluff! 18+ ONLY. kinda soft!dark max if you squint. warnings not exhaustive but if something needs to be tagged, pls lmk!

words: 7.8k

notes: this guy has been sitting in my drafts waiting to be finished for months and i finally got it done. i think i like it 🥲 i hope you will, too! please let me know what you think. 🖤

thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated.

You keep your head down, the baseball cap you’re wearing pulled low to aid your attempt at keeping your face concealed. The duffel bag you keep a tight grip on swings slightly with each step you take down the long, empty hallway of the apartment complex.

You reach the door leading to the stairwell and make your way down the steps until you finally get to ground level.

Pushing the lone metal door open ever so slightly, you peek out and make sure you’re still in the clear. No one's around. You walk through and head straight for the gate that leads you out to the parking garage.

You can feel your heart racing, your adrenaline pumping as you cross the lot. Lines of cars, but not another soul in sight.

You get the urge to look back over your shoulder as you walk but you fight against it and keep on to the car.

You’ve missed his call twice already and you just need to get out of the city before you can muster up the courage to call him back..

You unlock the doors with the click of a button as you approach. Your eyes leave the car for maybe two seconds as you pass a large cement pillar, looking down to fish your phone out of the deep pocket of your coat.

There’s a blur in your peripheral.

You look back up, your heart seizes in your chest, and you gasp as you halt in your path.

You suddenly find yourself mere inches from him as he stands before you, his gaze harsh as he stares daggers into you.

His jaw is set, eyes dark as you do nothing but stare back stupidly. Where did he come from?

"Fuck, Max," you say with a heavy breath, "you scared the hell outta me."

You try and calm yourself, playing it cool. You wait for him to respond, to say something, but he doesn't. The pit in your stomach only grows deeper at his silence.

You lift your phone in your hand, doing a show of waving it at him, "I was just about to call you," you lie effortlessly.

Still, he says nothing. Eyes narrowing as he takes you in, his gaze falling to the bag in your hand.

You swallow your nerves, praying he doesn't notice, as you step to him. His hands are in his pockets as he stands tall, still looking down at your own. Your gaze is set on him, not for a second straying from his face as you stand before him, nearly pressing yourself against him; trying to search his eyes, urging him to meet your own.

When he finally does, a shiver runs down your spine, though you're not sure of its cause.

Fear, worry, or maybe just the proximity to him that you hadn't had in a while.

Maybe something else...

His eyes are nearly black with how blown out his pupils are and the intensity of his gaze has you even more taken aback than you were a moment ago.

You can't let it show, though.

"Hi," you draw out, brows raised in faux confusion. As if you have no idea why he's acting so off. But of course you do.

He must know.

God, of course he knows.

But he hasn’t said anything. So still, you keep up the charade.

You drop the duffle lightly and wrap your arms around him as you look up at him. You're so close, so much so that you couldn't possibly get any closer - but that doesn't stop you from trying as you lean up on your tiptoes, chin tilted upward with a delicate pout playing on your lips.

He eyes you, his hands still in his pockets as he does nothing but watch.

You brush your lips against his softly, not expecting him to kiss back - and he doesn't - but he doesn't stop you, either.

You deflate, despite the expectedness of his lack of response, and let your feet meet the ground again as you tilt your head innocently at him, arms still wrapped around him.

"Max," you scoff lightly, a hint of a question in your tone. "Hey, I'm sorry I missed your call, but I really was just about to call you back," you try to defend yourself.

He stares for another unnerving moment before finally he responds,

"Calls," he corrects harshly. "Plural."

Your lips part as if you're going to speak, but you don't. Instead, you pull away from him, your brows furrowing. You let your eyes scan over his face, trying to assess him.

"Why does that sound accusatory?" you ask, letting your taken offense be known.

"What's in the bag?" he asks sharply, ignoring your question.

You stare one another down for a long moment. The thundering of your heart only grows louder in your ears as you do.

You were nervous before, scared more of what you were planning than of what his reaction would be to it. You didn’t want to tell him face to face, not because you thought he’d be truly upset but because you knew you’d back out if given the chance - whether Max cared or not.

But he was here now.

And he's upset?

If he knows, then is this him trying to… stop you?

If it is, great.

You're fucked.

Your plan is completely and totally fucked.

All of this, or at least the courage you had to attempt it, hinged on the fact that you wouldn’t have to see him, to be this close to him, again.

Your willpower around Max was near nothing and you knew that.

Maybe you could just take your bag and go. Would he really try all that hard to keep you here? You doubted it.

You both move in the same instant, but he's faster.

As you were reaching to grab the bag, Max planted a heavy foot on it, keeping it on the ground and out of your hands.

Your eyes dart from his shoe back up to his face. You take a deep breath as you stand straight and keep his gaze.

Well damn. It’s starting to seem like he cares.

But still, you need to get out, you remind yourself.

You can work this. There's always a way out.

You aren't thinking a plan through, not fully, you just start talking. It’s instinct. Stay in character. Never give yourself away.

He taught you that.

"I was just gonna open it for you," you say, aggrieved.

You stay still as he slowly reaches down to grab the duffle himself, his eyes never leaving you.

You watch him right back, refusing to let your discontent show.

All that’s in there is what little personal belongings and clothes you have. It doesn’t mean or prove anything. Can’t confirm or deny whatever it is he thinks you were planning on doing.

And maybe, well maybe you don’t have to go… You can just pretend this never happened. Prove him wrong and keep up like you had no intention to leave in the first place.

Fuck, it hasn’t been a minute and you’re losing it already.

"Well," you prompt him, "open it."

He considers you and you take note of the way he grips the bag in his hand, his knuckles nearly white, his hand is clenched so hard.

"Go to the car."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his command and move to walk to your car before his voice stops you.

"No," he grits out, "my car."

You look over in the direction he motions toward and see it, the sleek black Benz you somehow missed is parked across the way, but still on. You glance back to Max and he's already walking to it. You know you don't have a choice, not really, so you follow.

He throws your bag into the back and suddenly turns on you when you get closer, stopping you from rounding the car to get in on the passenger side.

You find your back pressed up against the vehicle as he closes in on you, jolting you a bit as he pushes you back, stealing the air from your lungs. He rips the hat off your head and throws it on the ground carelessly as he nearly snarls his words.

"How stupid do you think I am, huh?"

Your mind goes completely blank as you're stunned.

You've never seen Max this angry before, his apathy - though you hated it - was the norm. Or had been for the last six months or so. You hadn't seen him react to anything with any real care at all, not even you, in about as long. And never had you seen a real reaction from him to such a degree as this.

His anger and proximity were the only things you could focus on. That and the scent of his cologne that was invading your senses. Vaguely you register the longing for him that you’d been suppressing, the familiar scent you’d missed since having been away from him making you a bit dizzy as he crowded you.

"You know I know every trick in the book. I'm the one who taught them to you. So who are you trying to hide from? Who are you trying to run from? Because if I didn't know any better, angel, I'd think it was me." His hand is on your chin as he holds your face, his other planted next to your head as he keeps you against the car. "But I know better, don't I, baby," he smirks coldly.

You blink, lost in the torrent storms of his blue eyes, before forcing yourself to nod.

"Say it," he seethes, smile gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

"You know better," you say obediently in a near whisper as your chest brushes against his with your every breath.

He nods, leaning in closer, resting his forehead against your own for the briefest of moments before placing a chaste kiss on your skin as you shudder at the contact. His lips are by your ear now as he exhales heavily through his nose, "So do you," he tsks before dropping his hands and taking a step back as you stay where you are, eyes wide.

After a second, he motions with his head, signaling for you to move. He lets his tongue wet his lips and sniffs, "Get in."

You do as you're told, no arguing. There's no point.

You fall to him.

You’ll fall to him every time.

The second you close the car door behind you, Max peels out of the garage.

You look in the side mirror as your hat, the car, and your foolish plan to leave alone all slowly fade away.

You buckle yourself in as he speeds down the street.

You could chide yourself for your stupidity but, you really weren't all that stupid about this. You kind of knew, deep down, he'd know; that he'd see it coming a mile away. You just really didn't think he'd care.

You thought he had stopped caring a while ago. That he’d just let you go.

It was a simple plan. You'd just finished the job, Max had the money. You were supposed to meet up with him back home, the closest thing to one you'd had, and get resettled. For the time being, at least.

But you had other things in mind.

Your stage apartment, the place you'd been living for almost half a year now, didn't hold much - but neither did your duffle bag. Just the necessities. Always.

You cleared out nicely, still had the old car Max got for the job, and had enough cash to get out of the city and to last you for a while while you'd try to get settled somewhere new.

You had enough practice being someone different, becoming someone else for the sake of the job, you were sure starting fresh away from here would be easy compared to what you'd been doing the past three years.

And you were sure Max wouldn't care. He'd certainly given you that impression.

That he was over you. That he couldn’t care less.

You were tired. and sad. and lonely.

You never thought you could feel that way with him. It tore at you, the hurt threatened to dismantle you completely.

He was so close, but so, so far.

That’s what hurt the most.

He was right there, but he acted like you weren’t. You thought you’d done something wrong at first. You still remember the first night you kissed him and he just… didn’t kiss back.

You pretended you didn’t notice his lack of reciprocation but you quickly whispered a goodnight before you eventually cried yourself to sleep while he stayed out in the living room on his laptop.

He didn’t even bother to mutter a goodnight back.

With each month it only got worse.

He’d stop by your apartment less and less and would always be out when you tried to stop by his.

You realized maybe you hadn’t done anything, maybe he was just done with you. But he didn’t end things. No, he needed you. For now, at least. Until you finished the job, or maybe until he stumbled onto someone new.

You remember all he told you about his old partners. He was burned once and he’d be damned if he ever let that happen again.

You’d taken his face in your hands, peering into the depths of his deep blue eyes and swore to him he’d never have to worry about that with you.

And you were keeping your promise, weren’t you? You hadn’t tried to screw him over. You finished the job, made sure he got the score. All you were doing was leaving him to his own devices, the way he clearly preferred it. If anything, you were doing him a favor. Seeing yourself out so he wouldn’t have to end things himself.

Because, really, what were you supposed to do if not leave and put you both out of your misery? You couldn't take it anymore.

You loved him so much.

You love him so much.

You don’t want to leave but you can’t stay. Not like this. You’d rather miss him by being hundreds of miles away than miss him while he keeps you just a room away. And you couldn’t be there when he’d inevitably find that someone new. You couldn’t just wait for the final sword to be pierced through your heart.

You wouldn’t be able to live through it.

The tension is thick as you sit silently, looking listlessly out the tinted window while the city passes by you in a blur.

It’s not until Max gets on the highway that you realize you aren’t going home. You look over to him, staring for a moment as you try to keep your heart from racing. You aren’t scared, just concerned. You don’t like not knowing.

“Where are we going?” you ask after a long few seconds.

He doesn’t respond, his face still stony as his anger radiates off of him. He puts on music without sparing you a glance and you take it as your cue to be quiet. He’s too angry to talk right now, and though he’s pissed at you, he doesn’t want to snap on you.

It’s almost midnight, the lanes all across the road almost completely empty as he keeps on driving. You give up guessing where you’re headed to after he passes the last exit you recognize without getting off and resign yourself to the unknown.

You look out at the dark sky, the stars glowing brighter the further away from the city you get.

You find some solace in that.

As you rest your head against the window, your eyelids begin to feel heavy as your breathing slows.

You try to fight off the sleepiness as it threatens to take you down, but it's to no avail. Within a minute, you're sleeping as Max continues down the highway.

—

You startle awake at the honking of a semi truck, jolting up from where you lay on the reclined passenger seat. When did you do that? You blink your bleary eyes open as the sun shines brightly outside. You recognize you’re still in the car as you unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up, fixing the seat when you do.

You swallow thickly and unpleasantly as you cringe. You feel gross and a little disoriented from the heat of the sun combined with the weight of your long sleep.

You look around and realize you’re at a gas station. Checking the time, you find it’s already past seven. You’re surprised that you’ve slept so long, and that Max had driven for the same time. It dawns on you then that you have no idea where you are, and after seven hours of driving, you’re even more confused than you were last night.

Max isn’t at the pump, so you figure he must be inside.

You get out of the car, rubbing your eyes before you make your way across the lot and into the store.

You see him right away as he stands at the coolers grabbing water. On your way to him, you stop at the small toiletry section and grab a cheap disposable toothbrush.

You approach him carefully as he turns and spots you, waiting for you to get to him.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly, not knowing what else to go with. “I just need the bathroom, I’ll meet you back at the car.”

You don’t wait for a response, not sure he’d even planned on giving you one, as you head toward the big sign labeling the restrooms.

You quickly find a stall and relieve yourself. As you wash your hands at the sink, you can’t help but cringe at your reflection. Your makeup from yesterday is smudged and you look a little crazy, admittedly. You are feeling more well rested, though, so there’s at least one thing to be thankful for. You never slept well alone, and despite the physical discomfort of sleeping nearly eight hours in a car, this was the first time in months you’d gotten more than four hours of sleep without disturbance.

You open the package and take out the ninety nine cent toothbrush with the toothpaste already included. You run the bristles under the water for a second before you quickly brush your teeth. You really just want the feeling of sleep out of your mouth. You scrub at your tongue before spitting out the remnants of the sudsy paste and swirling with a bit of water.

The toothbrush does its job but doesn’t leave you with the minty feeling you were hoping for. As you toss the brush and the ripped packaging in the trash on your way out of the bathroom, you debate snagging a travel size mouthwash on your way out.

You stop in your path as you walk by a display of sunglasses. You don’t know what it is about the stand that somehow takes you back but you find yourself wondering when the last time you were in a gas station was. It’s silly, but you think it’s been a long while.

You look around and don’t see Max, but when you glance out the large glass window, you find him putting gas at the pump. His brilliant blue eyes hidden behind his dark, name brand glasses.

You turn and start looking at the cheap sunglasses, grabbing a pair of pink bedazzled ones and trying them on. You laugh at yourself in the small mirror before grabbing another pair to try on.

You go through five or six different styles before you settle on a simple, sleek black pair.

You aren’t sure how much longer you’ll be in the car, but you know you don’t want the sun shining in your eyes.

Before walking up to the counter, you wander around the aisles a bit, glancing outside every so often to ensure Max is still there.

You smile at the soda fountain and though you’re tempted to get the largest size they have, you know you’ll be lucky if Max lets you bring even the small one into his car without a complaint.

You fill the 12 oz cup with crushed ice and some raspberry iced tea, taking a sip before filling it back up and snapping on the plastic lid.

You don’t know why you’re feeling so free.. giddy, almost. It’s a stark difference from last night, and so far from anything you’ve felt these last few months, too.

It’s nice, not feeling so sad. And the more you wake up, the lighter you feel.

You mindlessly drink your tea as it cools you with each sip you take.

You glance out the window and see Max putting the cap back on the gas tank, so you quickly make your way to checkout.

You set down your drink and the glasses and fish in your pocket for the crumpled twenty you know you had.

As you pull it out and try to straighten it, the young blonde cashier speaks.

“Glasses are buy one get one right now,” she tells you as she rings you up, popping her gum.

“Oh, nice. Thanks,” you say as you flit back over to the stand. You knew which pair you were gonna grab the moment she let you know about the deal.

You smile as you grab them and hand them to her to scan when you get closer.

“It’s gonna be $11.14. You want a bag?”

“Uh, yes, please. And can I get two of those scratchers, too?” you ask pointing to the glimmering black and silver dollar scratch offs. She hums in affirmation as she pulls two for you and adds them to your total.

You hand her the twenty and grab the bag and your drink before pocketing the change when she gives it to you.

“Have a good one,” she bids you.

“Thanks,” you smile, “you, too.”

You walk to the car and pull your jacket off before you climb in as Max starts the engine.

He eyes your drink and bag but doesn’t say anything as you throw your jacket into the back and then buckle your seatbelt.

“I got you water,” he finally says after a moment.

You look at him in return, “thanks,” you say softly. There’s still some tension lingering between you, but it doesn’t feel as harsh as it had last night. This right here is the problem. When you’re together, everything is better. Even when it isn’t.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going now?” you ask, watching him closely.

He starts driving, heading out of the lot and back onto the highway.

The sun blinds you as you shield your eyes and quickly fish out the bejeweled pair of pink sunglasses you’d gotten free.

Max looks over to you briefly before returning his gaze to the road and your heart soars as he smiles to himself at your glasses.

“We’re less than an hour away,” he answers you without really answering you.

“You drove all night?”

“Yeah. You know I don’t mind a long drive. I have patience,” he says the last word more harshly as he adjusts his grip on the wheel.

There it is, you think to yourself.

Of course he wasn’t letting it go so quickly. He’d bring it up when he was ready to talk about it, and as he shifted his complete focus back to the road, you knew that time wasn’t now.

You watched as his jaw ticked slightly and you sighed to yourself.

Grabbing your cup, you took small sips from the straw, enjoying the way the drink went down. Cool, sweet, and smooth.

It relaxed you, easing the twisting of your stomach.

You settled in your seat and pulled out your phone.

You weren’t surprised by the lack of notifications; there wasn’t really anyone you kept in constant contact with, aside from Max.

As you looked up out the window, you were struck by the beauty that surrounded you. Gorgeous trees lined either side of the highway, and it was hitting you now how far away from the city you really were.

Max gets off at the next exit and you’re even more surprised by the naturescape you find yourself driving through. You’re on a two way road now and there’s no other cars in sight. As the road winds up and up, the sun is blocked out by the trees. Only glimmers of sunlight streaming through them every now and again as you continue on. You push up your glasses and look over to Max as he keeps driving, looking more relaxed once again.

It isn’t until you come upon what seems to be the start of a very long driveway that Max looks over at you.

You don’t return his gaze as you're wonderstruck at the massive house he’s driving up to. The long winding drive leads to a garage that is empty when it opens for Max’s car. The front yard is expansive and though it still blends into the wooded area, it’s well maintained.

You don’t even realize your mouth is hanging open until Max’s fingers gently take hold of your chin.

“You think this is nice, wait til we get inside,” he says before rescinding his touch, shutting off the car and getting out. He walks around and opens your door for you as you unbuckle.

You get out and pull your things from the back seat while he goes to the trunk.

You follow him and you're stunned when you see it’s packed full of his things. You stare stupidly as you watch him grab his own duffle and a suitcase before leading you out of the garage and up the path to the front door.

He unlocks the door with a key and pushes inside before stepping aside and letting you in.

You stand there in shock as you take it all in.

It looks like it came right out of a magazine. Everything looks so perfect. Cozy and comfy, and deceptively expensive, you’re sure.

You turn to him, a question in your eyes.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. You continue staring, eyes slightly widening as your brows raise; you’re unsure of what to say.

It is what you wanted, what you’d talked about late at night when you’d stay up telling each other everything. Secrets you’ve never uttered to another soul, all about your deepest, darkest desires, your dreams, what you truly wanted out of this life.

You remember the exact night you’d told him this specifically.

“A nice house,” you’d whispered into the dark as you laid against him in his bed, your head on his chest as he held you under the covers, listening intently as you spoke. “A big yard. Somewhere, away from the city. Near the mountains, maybe? Doesn’t have to be fancy. But I hope it’d be cozy. Pretty,” you smiled. “But I wouldn’t be picky. Just a nice place of my own. Somewhere I could finally call home.”

You had spoken the last sentence so quietly, so full of distant hope and longing, and mostly to yourself, you hadn’t been sure he’d even heard you.

He had stayed quiet after that, the only way you knew he was still awake was his hand smoothing up and down your skin, almost tickling you as he lulled you to sleep with his gentle touch.

That had been the night before you were set to meet your mark. The last night Max had held you so lovingly. After that was when things started to change. He was always on the phone, or on his computer, always meeting up with someone. Growing more and more distant. Too busy for you, his apathy only becoming more evident with each passing day.

It had been a long six months.

“Isn’t it?” he asked again, his voice pulling you back to the present.

You nod, blinking to hold back the unexpected wave of tears you could feel wanting to form.

“But,”

“But nothing. It’s what you wanted. It’s what you deserve.”

You shake your head as a lump in your throat forms. “I wanted it to be real,” you murmur, voice tight. You don’t know what it is you’re doing here. What the next job could possibly entail, but this is just… a different sort of cruel. Like all you’ve ever wanted is being dangled in front of your face, but it isn’t yours to keep as you're forced to play out another charade.

His touch is on you then, turning you to face him completely before he takes your face in his hands, stepping closer to you.

“What makes you think this isn’t real?” His voice is hard though you can hear how he tries to soften it for you.

“I can’t just play pretend for the rest of my life, Max. I can’t. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not anymore. I don’t want to. To have to move around, living fake lives, never getting to settle down and make one of my own, I-”

“Angel,” he stops you, realizing what your thinking is as a tear slips down your cheek once the confession you never thought you’d say slips past your lips, “I know.”

His thumb wipes at the tear streak as he presses closer to you, leaning his head down to yours while you look up at him. The cold his eyes held before seems to melt as he looks at you. He continues.

“I’ve known. This isn’t temporary, baby. This is your house. It’s in your name and everything. Anything you don’t like, we’ll change. I bought it for you. For us.”

“Wh-,” you breathe, no words forming as you take in what he said. “For us?” your voice cracks as you repeat his words, more tears burning at your eyes. “I thought…”

“Thought what?”

It takes you a second to speak, “... I thought you were over me.”

Hurt flashes across his face before it’s replaced with some kind of indignation.

“Over you?” he says harshly, “I’ve spent months putting all of this together for you-”

“I didn’t know that, it felt like you were ignoring me. Avoiding me-”

“You don’t get all of my attention for a little while and you just assume I’m bored with you? You think that little of me?”

“No, Max. I just - I was hurt and I didn’t, what was I supposed to think?”

“How about you think about how much I love you. Have I not made that clear? I’ve given you every piece of me. I let you in, I took care of you - I take care of you and I love you like I’ve never loved anyone,” you can feel how upset he is as he holds you tighter, his voice cutting you with every word.

“Max,” you say as you grab his wrists. He doesn’t respond, only moves you back as he walks you toward the couch. “Max,” you say again, almost pleading.

Your legs are right against the couch as he towers over you, still holding your face in his hands as you hold his wrists.

“I love you,” he says, hurt seeping through entirely now as he speaks. You’re almost being bent back over the armrest as he continues to try to get even closer to you. You’re looking in his eyes with your bleary ones.

“I know,” you whisper, squeezing his wrists lightly, your thumbs mindlessly running over his skin, “I know.”

“I’d give you the entire world if you wanted it,” he says.

“I don’t want the world,” you breathe sharply. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

His lips crash into yours without warning as he takes you by surprise. The intensity of the moment completely overwhelms you as you fall back over the armrest onto the couch, Max following you.

You both move up the long couch as your kisses turn messy and fervent, your hands finding his hair as his move under your clothes.

You’ve missed him more than you’d even realized. You’re desperate for him, every little touch, the lightest of brushes of his fingers over your delicate skin. You’re pulling him as close as possible as he crowds you, the reciprocity from him filling you with everything you’d been longing for.

So caught up in the feeling of him, your mind wasn’t thinking of anything else until Max spoke, his words almost a snarl in your ear.

“Everything we’ve been through together, and you were just gonna leave me? Without talking to me, without a goddamn word?”

His hand circled your throat as he spoke, but he didn’t apply much of any pressure. Even still, the feeling enlivened and distressed you all at once.

You didn’t have to speak your admittance, you both knew full well what you had been attempting - what point was there in trying to deny it.

“I tried to talk to you,” you whimpered, eyes watering with the tears threatening to flow over, “you never listened. You acted like I wasn't around. I felt like a ghost, like a burden on you. I didn't want to leave,” you stressed, needing him to know that truth, “but I thought you didn't want me around. I thought I’d be doing us both a favor.”

His hand relaxed around your throat and instead moved up to caress your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, staring at you with the softest look you’d ever seen. “I was caught up in all this, I was brushing you off. But, that was all it took?”

“Max,” you breathed, “even just one day without you, feels like an eternity. I didn’t think I could take it anymore.”

His nose brushes against yours as his eyes close, pained, before he presses his lips to yours, softer this time.

You return his kiss as it grows deeper, his hands moving down your body as he takes you in.

“You’re so dramatic,” he breathes against your skin. You huff, a hand in his hair as you keep him close. “Impatient,”he grits out, then another kiss, “needy.” His voice is low and rough.

You can feel yourself getting hotter with each word he speaks, and had it been anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were getting. But you know that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Please, Max,” you whimper, puppy eyes on display as you pout.

He pulls away, dark eyes penetrating you.

“You know what,” he breathes heavily, “maybe it's time you learn a little something about patience.”

You gape up at him dumbly, not knowing what to say.

“You think you can manage that, angel? Or you gonna try and run off on me again?”

You frown, blinking away from his harsh gaze. “I can manage,” you whisper.

His grip on your chin forces your gaze up, an unbidden whimper leaving you.

“Look at me when you’re talking to me,” he orders.

You swallow hard with a nod, “I can manage.”

—

It’s tortuous the way he moves his tongue, tracing up and down your slit before plunging in and out of your dripping hole, moving back up to swirl over your sensitive clit.

Your body is slicked with sweat, your clothes long tossed away as Max played with you, bringing you to the very edge of pleasure over and over again just to tear it all away before you could reach your release.

You swear you’re about to combust as he sucks on your clit, his fingers buried deep inside your pussy. Your moan sounds from your throat as you keep your mouth shut, head thrown back in pleasure, eyes screwed shut, your hand fisted in his hair while he devours you.

Your hips buck up despite yourself and for the first time tonight, Max doesn’t pull away from you completely. This time, he grips your hip, burying his face deeper in your cunt as his fingers curl just right inside of you, coaxing you closer.

You’re a mess of gasps and moans as he moves his fingers faster, fucking you hard and deep as he keeps his tongue focused on playing with your clit.

“Oh- god! Max, I-, Max, Max, Max, I’m gonna-”

You can’t even hear yourself and your senseless babbling as he speeds up his movements while you cry out for him.

Your orgasm shatters you, your body going tense before you shake beneath him. You’re seeing stars, that glorious warmth washing over you, the pleasure of your orgasm crashing over you in never ending waves as you pulse around his fingers. Max doesn’t stop what he’s doing until your hand in his hair is tugging at him to stop.

You’re breathless, body tired and sweaty as you try to calm down for the intense high. When Max sits up, still between your legs, his chin is slick with your arousal and release as he licks his lips. His eyes are glued to your body, roving up to your chest as it rises and falls with your labored breathing before he crawls over you. You’re face to face as his bright blue eyes peer into your soul. You feel like you’re in a trance as you return his gaze. Your hand reaches to caress his cheek before he leans closer to you, kissing you deeply, letting his tongue lick into your mouth. You moan at the feeling, and the taste of yourself still on his tongue.

“You see the pay off you can get when you just have some patience?” he husks. You whimper as he pulls away from you.

He rids himself of his shirt as you sit up and, slowly at first, reach for his belt. He doesn’t stop you and you grow emboldened.

You fumble with the buckle for a moment in your haste before you get it undone, immediately going for the button of his pants.

His hands brush yours as he unzips and pushes his pants down with his briefs, freeing his erect cock. You can’t help but reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length. Your heavy lidded eyes are glued to his body, your free hand exploring him as goosebumps break out over his skin under your gentle touch.

His shaky intake of breath as you stroke him with one hand and ghost slowly up and down his side with the other fills you with a sense of accomplishment and pride.

You can’t keep your longing at bay as your hand speeds up, gripping him a bit tighter as you jerk him off.

The moan that tumbles from his lips has your desire growing tenfold, but Max stops you all too soon.

He pushes you to lie back down on the couch, eyes dark and focused solely on you. The intensity steals your already unsteady breath as you release a soft gasp from his push.

It’s quiet in the house, the only sounds to be heard are your labored breaths as you wait, simmering in anticipation.

Max leans over you, planting one hand next to your head as he holds his stiff length in his other, never breaking eye contact as he guides himself to your entrance, prodding you with his cock.

Your breath hitches as he pushes his tip just inside your tight hole. You don’t so much as blink as he leans himself down closer to you while pushing further inside you. You spread your legs as much as possible as your mouth opens in a silent moan. Max holds your waist as he begins rocking in and out of you, slow and deep with each thrust he drives into you.

You tremble beneath him, your eyes wanting to roll back into your head but you don’t want to look away from him for even a second. A part of you terrified he’ll disappear if you do.

You reach for him with one hand, pulling him closer by his hip, your other holding his hand as he holds you.

Your nose tingles as he moves even slower, hitting even deeper with every stroke, his fingers squeezing your plush waist. Everything feels so intense; strong, powerful, entirely overwhelming as your eyes fill with tears once more.

He smooths his hand from under yours, up your waist, over your breast and further until he’s holding your cheek, his thumb wiping away your stray tears. He leans down as he stops his hips, keeping himself fully sheathed in your tight warmth.

He kisses you, so gently. More tears roll down your cheeks as your eyes close, your hands urging his body closer. Your touch has his kiss growing deeper; not as soft, but just as passionate as he begins to roll his hips into yours again.

You gasp as he stimulates your clit, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours before you let him dominate it, following his lead - like you always do.

Like you always will.

Each rock of his hips stokes the fire building deep inside you. Your hands are clutching him like your life depends on it.

You can feel your walls flexing around his length, his groan at the sensation still audible through your kissing until he pulls away, nuzzling your nose with his as he refuses to put space between you as you both try to breathe.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he says, voice strained, eyes screwed shut. “I’m not gonna last with the way you’re squeezing me, baby.”

You mewl as he starts to move faster. It’s evident he’s close to coming and you’re beyond grateful because you know you’re right there with him.

The sound of his hips hitting against you grows louder with each thrust, his balls are slapping against you and the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt are as salacious as they are arousing - only pushing you further to the edge.

Your toes are curling as your muscles tighten, and a strangled moan leaves you. His rhythm is completely lost now as he fucks into you relentlessly. You can’t stop yourself from coming, your walls constricting around his cock as the high of your orgasm crash over you.

You feel the spurts of his come hitting your walls as he lets out a throaty moan, thrusting in and out of you, riding out the high as he fills you completely. Your name intermingled with curses leave his lips as he relishes in the orgasmic bliss.

When he can’t take it any longer, the sensitivity too much for him, he gently pulls out of you before he collapses down beside you.

You’re breathless as you lay there, reaching a hand to touch his chest, just wanting to feel him.

You turn onto your side to be chest to chest, face to face.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, your voice small and tight. He strokes your face lovingly as he watches your eyes well with unshed tears.

“I’ve missed you, too, baby.”

You try to blink away the new wave of tears but you’re unsuccessful. His touch only coaxes more as you finally feel safe enough to let them all out now that you’re in his arms again. He moves to hold you against him as you shudder, nuzzling closer.

He shushes you as you cry, kissing your head and rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. His warmth alone is a comfort. You don’t know how long you spend like that in his hold but finally your tears begin to subside.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically. “I’m so sorry, Max.”

He places a kiss on your forehead, “I know. It’s okay. And I know you, sweetheart. I know you’d never leave me, you wouldn’t have gone through with it. I know you wouldn’t have.”

You take a moment, worrying your lip before you look up to meet his gaze.

He waits for you to speak, seeing the thoughts and worry in your eyes and knowing you have something to say.

“I love you, Max. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t live another lie. I can’t,” your voice breaks on your last words as Max cradles your face.

“Baby, why do you think I brought you out here? Why I bought all of this for you?”

Your brows furrow as you look into his soft gaze, needing him to say it outright before you can really start to believe what you think it is he means. He offers you a soft smirk,

“You can be done, sweetheart. You’re done.”

You breathe in a bit shakily, eyes wide and a pout on your lips.

“But I,” you take an unexpectedly sharp breath, “I don’t want you to leave me, either.”

He chuckles at the small tremble underlying your voice, gently kissing your pout.

“You’re so greedy,” he admonishes, holding your cheek before pulling you closer for another kiss. He sighs as he pulls away. “But if that’s what you need from me, then I’ll be done, too.”

You aren’t even thinking when you take his face in your hands and pull him to you again, pressing your lips to his firmly. You keep hold of him as you part.

“Yeah?” you ask, not sure he means it.

“For you,” he nods, “yeah.”

You share another deep kiss that takes your breath away before you have to pull away for air. You caress his hair, “So… we live here now?” The question sounds silly to you, but it’s genuine.

He nods with a smile and you nod in return.

“Well, as nice as this couch is, I’d love to see the rest of the place.”

“You ready for the tour?”

“Mhm,” you smile as he moves to get up over you. Before he can, though, you stop him. “Max, wait. I-...Thank you,” you say, carding a hand through his dark hair. “I never expected this, at all. But it’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you,” you return with watery eyes. Emotions getting the best of you yet again. But you can’t help it. You’ve missed him so much, missed being this close, hearing his voice, hearing those words.

He holds you again, lips against your ear, “I’m sorry, angel. Sorry I was so distant.” He kisses your temple. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I’ll never make you feel like that again.”

He turns your face to his and kisses you once again.

“I promise.”

There’s so much love in his gaze, and a sincerity in his eyes, one you couldn’t question even if you wanted to. So you readily return his kiss, you take him at his word. You believe him. Because it’s him.

It’ll always be him.

#max burnett x curvy!reader #max burnett x reader #max burnett smut #max burnett angst #max burnett fluff #max burnett #sebastian stan characters #max burnett fanfiction #max burnett one shot #max burnett x you #max sharper

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hiraeth-sonder · 17 days

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Maladroit Admirer - Rongguo

Danheng x Reader - University AU

Becoming entranced with the most plain looking guy in your tutorial classes leads to a series of very bad, not good fumbles

//So so so so enamoured with the idea of just NPC looking Danheng, short little thingy that I had to get out. Poem is 寄人 by 张泌.

别梦依依到谢家，小廊回合曲阑斜。

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You don’t think there’s a difference between a crush and love at this point because being in university and adamantly staring at what might be the most boring looking man in this entire sea of people certainly can’t just be a momentary attraction. Short dark hair, dark eyes, decent fashion style and in a business unit, he wasn’t anything special, and yet you just couldn’t, for the life of you couldn’t, take your damned eyes off him.

It was ridiculous, you’ve never even spoken to him, looked at him in the eyes even, but here your heart was, pounding against your ribs begging for more. Every time you walk into that horrifically cold room, freezing your shoulders off because if you brought a jacket you’d be sweating from the journey, you see him already there at some table you won’t sit at because you’re afraid of him. Because you’re a nervous wreck and you know that if you had to talk to him during discussion, all you’d do is hum and agree and have no opinion on your own. Which, you’d like to keep some part of your dignity still, so no thank you.

There has been no man, woman even, that has rendered you so stupid. It must be some kind of witchcraft, there was no other explanation for the grip this man had on you.

You try your best, your absolute best, to focus on the question ahead of you, not like it was actually hard. However, seeing as you were in a small table of three, had an ethics question and you were hyper-aware of every action you made because of that damned man, you certainly weren’t at your peak performance today.

With your table’s assigned question out of the way, the two of them went on to discuss the rest, or rather you and the person next to you since you two were the only ones who attempted the exercise. The discussion didn’t go bad, merely boring and strained seeing as you’ve never actually talked to anyone in this class, so when the exact same person asked to see your graphs. You, of course, took that as a very bad chance to make a joke.

“Just to warn you, I bullshitted my graphs, so if they’re wrong don’t blame me,” You joked, raising your hands in mock-guile.

Somehow, some-god-forsaken-how, despite being in a room speaking at a normal conversational level surrounded by other people talking, everyone heard you. And everyone is staring at you. Great, absolutely great. Ducking your head, you pretend to type something else on your computer. You can only pray that you never see anyone in this class ever again, or have to talk to them (which wasn’t going to happen but you could pretend).

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his eyes glancing between you and the rest of his table, a kind of vacant stare if you will. Your ears grow hot at this revelation, he must think you’re a total idiot, or a buffoon, whichever one because you might as well be all the ways you could refer to someone as stupid. How you longed to return to the cold dark earth, maybe you wouldn’t say things that made you sound like some brainless highschooler.

By the time the tutorial ends, you’ve already debated ending it all at least three times. With your computer and singular pencil packed up, you absentmindedly head towards the exit, weaving through strewn chairs and the awkwardly placed tables. It is then you notice a familiar someone’s form standing at the door.

Your eyes slowly shift up and who else could it be but the very man who rendered your brain mush, holding the door open and gesturing for you to go.

You barely meet his eyes, bowing your head and quickly scurrying off, at least not before blurting out a quick “Thank you.”

With the speed of a falcon, your footsteps scamper off, hefting your heavy tote bag you now wonder why you brought. Tucking your earphones in, you try your best at nonchalance and it works, for about six steps until the tip of your shoe catches against some crack in the path and you have to walk off the even more public embarrassment.

In the distance, he watches you trip on your own feet and your shoe almost gets stuck on the carpeted pathway. An amused breath escapes him and he wonders what exactly about you is so endearing to him. Danheng swears he has never met someone as oddly appealing even with your little fumbles, and by now he’s given up trying to figure it out.

He’ll find some way to approach you later, when his palms aren’t trying to sweat the skin off of them and his head isn’t going at a thousand thoughts per second. He only hopes you didn’t notice his continuous staring, or the fact that his hand slipped and missed the first time he tried to grab the door handle.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

多情只有春庭月，犹为离人照落花。

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr danheng #dan heng #dan heng x reader #danheng x reader

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secretsofdbz · 2 months

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So I finally caught some sleep (I woke up at 4 am, 20 minutes after the announcement, and slept a bit more after my last post announcing his passing).

First of all, this is going to be my panel: "See ya later guys, when you die we'll meet again!"

The hematoma that's mentioned in the statement announced in his passing implies a head injury (so perhaps he fell, perhaps something fell on his head, and the internal wound may have not be noticed)

The last artwork he did that was published was this new Sandland one to celebrate the upcoming series. It was revealed on March 4th, so after his passing. We don't know if it's the last artwork he did (he may have drawn this earlier and it was revealed later, who knows.

I'd also like to share some other statements, in no particular order:

Toyotaro's:

Masako Nozawa (Goku's VA) statement:

「コメントできる状況にございません」 -> "I am not in a position to comment."

(aka she was too shaken)

Nozawa update:

「信じたくない。考えたくないという気持ちで頭の中が空っぽです。それでも、お会いするたびに鳥山先生がおっしゃってくださった『悟空をお願いしますね』というお言葉を思い出すと、『私の命が尽きるまで悟空のそばにいよう』と気持ちを保つことが出来ます。先生、空から私たちを見守っていてください。どうか安らかな旅立ちでありますように。」 I don't want to believe. My mind is empty because I don't want to think about it. Still, every time we met, Toriyama-sensei said to me, "I'll take care of Goku for you, won't I?" When I remember your words, 'I will stay by Goku's side until my life is over,' I can keep my mind on it. Sensei, please watch over us from the sky. May you have a peaceful departure.

(Mayumi Tanaka, the voice of Krillin who was requested by Tori super early on will probably say something at some point too).

Oda (One Piece author) statement:

It is too early. The hole is too big. Sadness washes over me when I think that I will never see him again. I have admired him so much since I was a child, so I remember the day he called me by name for the first time. On the way home from the day you used the word "friend" for me and Kishimoto, I remember being overjoyed with Kishimoto. I also remember the last conversation we had. I was one of those who took the baton from the days when reading manga made you a fool, and he also created an era when both adults and children could enjoy reading manga. He showed us the dream that manga can go worldwide. It was like watching a hero going forward. For not only mangakas but also creators in various industries, the excitement and emotion of the time of Dragon Ball serialization must have taken root in their childhood. His existence is like a big tree. For the manga artists of our generation who stood on the same stage, Toriyama's works became more and more important to me as I got closer to the same stage. I even felt being scary. But I am just happy to see the aloof man himself again. Because we love him on a blood level. With respect and gratitude for the creative world he has left behind. I pray for his soulful rest in peace. May heaven be the joyous world he envisioned.

And Kishimoto's statement (the autho of Naruto)

To be honest, I don’t know what to write or how to write it. But right now, I want to tell Mr. Toriyama the things I always wanted to ask him and my feelings. I grew up with Mr. Toriyama’s manga, Dr. Slump in elementary school and Dragon Ball in high school. It was natural for me to have Mr. Toriyama’s manga next to me as a part of my life. Even when I was feeling down, the weekly Dragon Ball always made me forget about it. It was a salvation for me, a country boy with nothing to do. That’s how much I enjoyed Dragon Ball! When I was a college student, Dragon Ball, which had been a part of my life for so long, suddenly ended. I was overwhelmed by a tremendous sense of loss and didn’t know what to look forward to. But at the same time, it was an opportunity for me to realize from the bottom of my heart the greatness of Mr. Toriyama, who created Dragon Ball. I want to create a work like Mr. Toriyama’s! I want to be like Mr. Toriyama! As I chased after Mr. Toriyama, the sense of loss gradually disappeared. Because it was fun to create manga. By chasing after Mr. Toriyama, I was able to find new joy. Mr. Toriyama was always my compass. He was my inspiration. I may be bothering Mr. Toriyama, but I am grateful to him without permission. To me, he was a savior and a god of manga. When I first met him, I was so nervous that I couldn’t say a word. But as I met him more and more at the Tezuka Osamu Cultural Prize jury meeting, I was able to talk to him. I will never forget the time when I talked to him about how much fun Dragon Ball was, like a child with Oda-san, as Dragon Ball children, and how he smiled a little shyly. I just received the news of Mr. Toriyama’s death. I am overwhelmed by a tremendous sense of loss, even greater than when Dragon Ball ended… I don’t know how to deal with this hole in my heart yet. I can’t read my favorite Dragon Ball right now. I don’t even feel like I’m writing this text properly to Mr. Toriyama. Everyone in the world was still looking forward to Mr. Toriyama’s work. If one Dragon Ball wish really comes true… I’m sorry… It may be selfish, but I’m sad, Mr. Toriyama. Thank you, Mr. Akira Toriyama, for 45 years of wonderful work. And thank you very much for your hard work. To the bereaved family, I pray that you will find peace and comfort in the midst of your grief. I pray for the peaceful repose of the soul of Mr. Akira Toriyama.

And finally one of Toriyama's close friends Masakazu Katsura (Video Girl AI author) also had this to say:

I feel drained and unmotivated. I don’t want to write a comment like this. But I’ll write something. Once I start writing, I’ll have so much to say that it will probably turn into a long text, but I’ll try to keep it as short as possible. I apologize for the rambling, as my thoughts are still not in order. Looking back, all I have are fond memories of the times we spent together – whether it was visiting your house, having you stay over at mine, or going out on trips. Every time we talked on the phone, we would laugh so hard that we would get tired. You were a funny person. You were perverted, cute, sharp-tongued, and humble. We collaborated on some manga projects, which were also a lot of fun. But 99% of the time, we never talked about manga. As a manga artist, the gap between the way we saw things and our level of skill was too great, and I never really felt your greatness. I know it now. But when I was with you, I never felt it at all. That’s just the kind of person you were. That’s why I still can’t think of you as anything other than a friend, even though you were a great manga artist. Last summer, before I had surgery, you heard about it somewhere and sent me an email. It was really rare for you to send an email, and it was so full of concern for my health. We’ve been friends for 40 years, but that might have been the first time I felt such kindness from you. I thought it was going to snow. You know, you usually only talk about jokes or nonsense. What the hell, you shouldn’t be worried about other people, right? I called you a little before that, and I was feeling sick all over, so I said, “I’ll probably go first, so have a farewell party for me, Toriyama! And make sure you give a speech, because it’ll make me look good!” But you didn’t keep your promise. I really regret not calling you after you emailed me. I just can’t believe that I can’t talk to you on the phone for hours anymore. There are so many things I want to talk to you about. There are so many things I want to say. Even if you don’t care about what I have to say, you can just zone out like you always do. I just want to talk to you again. The last thing you said to me was “OK” in response to my email asking you to contact me again. That’s just not good enough. I’m so sad.

And the Dragon Quest LEGEND, Yuji Horii, too...

I am still filled with disbelief at the sudden news of Mr. Toriyama’s passing. I have known Mr. Toriyama since I was a writer for Weekly Shonen Jump. At the recommendation of my editor, Torishima-san, I decided to ask him to draw the illustrations for the game Dragon Quest when we were launching it. For over 37 years since then, he has drawn countless charming characters, including character designs and monster designs. The history of Dragon Quest is one that has been intertwined with Mr. Toriyama’s character designs. Mr. Toriyama and the late Mr. Sugiyama were longtime collaborators on Dragon Quest. I can’t believe they’re gone… I can’t find the words to express my sorrow. This is truly, truly a tragedy.

Torishima, his "evil editor" (the one the Mashirito from Dr Slump is inspired by), also put out a statement:

"The last time we worked together was on the book we published last year, 'Dr. Mashirito's Strongest Manga Technique.' In that book, 'Torishima and Toriyama Back Then' was the last manga we made together. 45 years, thank you very much. Mr. Toriyama, you were the best manga artist I have ever known."

(this is what he's talking about)

Jackie Chan statement:

"Akira Toriyama-sensei, thank you for creating so many classics, they will always be with the world, farewell 🙏"

French president Emmanuel Macron:

the tweet reads "To Akira Toriyama and his millions of fans who grew up with him",

The authograph says "for Ma-ku-ro-n president" (to President Macron); the hand-drawn parts are the little Goku and the dragon balls surrounding him, alongside the autograph. It was drawn over a printed paper (as per custom when getting an autograph)

The date indicates it was given to him during the Olympic Games in Tokyo.

Yabuki Kentaro (To Love Ru's author) (link to the tweet)

Takao Koyama (screen writer for 90% of the episodes and the movies) says Toriyama was sick for over a year at this point. He himself is pretty badly sick as well.

Hiroki Takahashi (Makafushigi Adventure, first DB opening)

Hironobu Kageyama (Chala Head Chala and everything else)

"Singing 'CHA-LA HEAD-CHA-LA!' is the biggest medal in my life! The loss of the sun is too much to bear But the power of Toriyama-sensei's works Will continue to be a strong light And may it illuminate people all over the world. May you rest in peace."

(some more of the Editorial department of Jump can be found here, with a good browser extension you should be able to get the gist of it)

Feel free to reblog with your favorite manga panels, interviews, trivias, and let's pay a homage to his life and work, alright??

#akira toriyama #dragon ball #dr slump #death #cw death #mourning #dragon quest #db #dbz

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coff33notforme · 10 months

Text

Daisy Chain

A/n: While I work on Atsv requests please enjoy some Konig fluff that I wrote impulsively at two in the morning

Summary: You want to know why KorTacs operator won't stop staring at you but today you finally had the courage to talk to him

Pairing: Konig and Gn Reader (Fluff, I don't know if the ending is that great but I tried)

You couldn’t help but feel a piercing stare burning holes through your head as you tirelessly scrubbed the dirt and dust that clung to the cold metal of your rifle, every movement you made began judged and evaluated by the brooding Austrian.

Sweat clung to your forehead as the sun continued to beat down on you, and his stare only made you more sweaty.

He always sat alone, his presence seemed to be enough to clear any area of beating hearts that wanted to remain beating, soldiers steered clear of him, and you did too, until today.

He loomed on the bench his gaze unwavering, from your small frame. You glanced to him every now and then but you didn’t allow yourself to linger.

But every move you made felt stiff, you felt suffocated, like the breeze that blew softly against exposed skin, didn’t fully reach your lungs only filling them with gentle, shaky breaths, it was too much.

You sighed, your body tensed as you slid off the wooden bench, your thundering boots pounding clouds of dirt from the dry earth as you walked to the soldier, it was almost endearing how he tried to avert his gaze as if he hadn’t been shamelessly staring at you a few moments ago.

Your heart rattled in your chest as you stopped in front of the stoic man, his large stature intimidating even as he sat, he looked out over the green field that surrounded the patch of dry land that you stood upon.

“Hey.” you said hushed, your voice shook as you spoke but you only prayed he wouldn’t notice, it took everything in you to not run away right then, while you still had the chance, you had seen this man in battle, you had watched him break men over his knee like they were mere twigs, who knows what he would do if you managed to piss him off.

The man's sharp eyes darted back at you briefly, like he expected you to disappear any moment, but when he shifted his gaze to see you standing still before him he lifted a brow before turning his full attention to you. Not a word leaving his lips as an unbearable silence stretched on.

You inspected the man in front of you, you had never been this close to him before, he smelled like the outside, he had a musk of rich soil, an overwhelming earthy tone, with a soft whisk of rust.

You stared at his chest trying to not make it obvious that you were practically drinking in his appearance, his large figure was covered head to toe concealing every inch of skin that could possibly be exposed to the world, his dark hood draping down past his shoulders.

The red bleach marks that plastered onto the dark fabric smudged down his face like crimson tears, the slots carved into his mask bored into you, but from the sea of black paint that smeared his hidden flesh two beautiful orbs of blue stared back at you, they looked like cloudless skies of blue, you found yourself lost in them.

And the words seemed to bubble up leaving your lips before you were able to stop them.

“You have…pretty eyes.” you stuttered out awkwardly, avoiding his gaze as you stiffened at your own words, the shifted at your sudden praise, an amused smile crept up under his mask as he looked at you, silence lingered before he spoke up

“Thanks.” his voice was low yet it held a velvety tone to it, his accent flowing with each word. From how he spoke you couldn’t gauge whether he appreciated the comment about his eyes and that level of uncertainty left a feeling of dread bubbling up inside your chest. Yet you persisted.

“You must be Konig.” you said, your tone seemed confident with your assumption as you held his firm gaze.

The Austrian nodded, his large hands moving to rest on his rifle, the movement was small and subtle, but it was a simple gesture that said a lot to you.

You felt yourself stiffen, the air suddenly felt too thick to breathe as you stood there, you felt his eyes hunting you. You needed to diverge his attention. With a shaky breath, you managed a smile as you spoke

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” you stuttered out, to this Konig paused his steady movements, his brows furrowing, but you couldn’t tell at what it was. His eyes seemed to soften, but a hint of caution still swirled in his pupils, his shoulders fell with a huff.

“Really?” he muttered, his tone seemed to contain a touch of surprise, the sound was strangely pleasing to hear from the distant man.

You nodded softly

“You're the big Austrian everyone finds so intimidating.” you spoke lowly, but you felt a wave of panic flood through you as you noticed Konigs eyes narrowing, quickly you tried to think of something to add

“But uh, I’ve also heard you're quite tall.” you chuckled nervously. The soldier's brow raised as he glanced down from his towering height, seeming to straighten himself out at your comment, which only increased his size as he offered you a slow nod.

“I am.” he said flatly, the words seemed to linger in the dense atmosphere that surrounded you two. You felt my foot tapping anxiously with the settling silence, so you spoke up again, trying to keep the flow of conversation.

“How tall exactly?” you whispered curiously glancing up to the big man.

“Six foot ten.” he huffed his chest out a bit at the answer, sounding a bit prideful about it, speaking with more confidence than he had before. Your eyes widened at his answer

“Damn.” was all you could think to sputter out, Koing nodded approvingly with a deep hum echoed from the base of his chest.

“Tallest of my unit.” he spoke, though it wasn’t boastful, he stated it as the simple truth, and you believed him, he was certainly taller than most.

“I’d believe it.” you chuckled, felt yourself begin to loosen up around Konig, and even he himself seemed to be more open with engaging in conversation than he was before.

“How tall are you?” he mused with a pointing finger as he crossed his arms over his chest leaning back on the wooden bench slightly. At this question you felt you shrink into yourself more as fiddled with my hands awkwardly.

“Well uh.” you trailed off hoping he would get the memo, but this only seemed to intrigue the soldier as he leaned in curiously.

“Yes?” he pressed, encouraging you to continue. You glanced away

“About five three.” You sighed, heat rising to your cheeks as you felt his eyes glued to you as you spoke, for some reason now more than ever you felt all eyes on you.

He tilted his head to the side as he leaned back, his eyes seemed to glow at your answer, a softness to them that only drew you to him, he seemed to smile with his eyes, it left your heart stuttering in your chest, you found it attractive.

No, you gently shook the thought from your head, you couldn’t be thinking these things about him, you scolded yourself. But Konigs heavy voice steered you from your thoughts.

“A lot smaller than me.” you could practically hear the smile in his voice, at this you felt the corners of your mouth tug into a smile as well, you snorted softly.

“Yeah, well I’m sure most people are to you.” you teased, the comment felt so natural, like you were talking to an old friend, a comfortable feeling stirring in you that you would have never guessed you could feel around this man, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at your progress with prying the cold man open.

But that wasn’t even the best part, with your comment Konig let out a deep, hearty, booming sound, it was like nothing you had heard before, it rattled in his chest before it died out slowly and he returned his warm gaze to you.

“True.” he said simply, but his eyes didn’t glance away from you, he looked deeper into your eyes as if searching for something.

“You must be brave to approach me.” he quipped, to this you raised your brow in confusion.

“Really? Why is that?” you asked, he crossed his leg over his knee as hummed in thought

“Most people tend to avoid me all together, as you said they find me too intimidating to approach.” he said, his eyes drifting across the greenfield to his right, as he thought. You felt a pang of guilt wrenching up your stomach, you didn’t mean it like that.

“Yet you seem to do that easily, even going as far to say that I’m ‘pretty’ “ he recited your words, amusement dripping from his low tone as he looked at you. You smiled at his comment as you nodded.

“Because you are, you have beautiful blue eyes.” you grinned feeling comfortable enough to speak your opinions to him

“And a wonderful laugh.” you added, your smile stretching across your face as you spoke. With this the Austrian didn’t reply, he turned his head to stare back over the field baking in the golden sunlight of the afternoon, he himself began to feel a bit hot, but it was because of the heat, right? He felt his cheeks bitten with a soft red, he sighed at your words.

“You're a flirt.” he groaned, his pale eyes meeting yours once again. You chuckled at his comment, your face lighting up in a way Konig hadn’t seen before.

“Or maybe I’m just honest.” you shot back playfully

“Why not both?” he challenged, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable around someone, but he just wanted to bask in this feeling.

“You make a good point.” you say as you sit down in front of him, the dust that sat among the soft splotches of grass settled under your weight. The soldier felt a feeling of admiration bubbled up in his chest, it was an addicting feeling something he wasn’t used to in the slightest.

“I like you.” he said softly, his voice sailing through the air light enough for only you to hear, with this you couldn’t conceal the blush that made its way to your sun kissed skin as you smiled.

“I like you too.”

His eyes seemed widened in surprise at your response, as if he hadn’t been anticipating that at all, your brows furrowed at his confusion.

“Really?” he hummed lowly, as if testing the waters. He wasn’t used to people enjoying his company, or, better yet, him enjoying theirs

“Well yeah, you think I spend this much time with people I don’t like at least a little bit.” you chuckled, but you did not like Konig a little bit, you liked him a lot.

You couldn’t help but let out a yelp of surprise as the Austrians face was suddenly in front of yours inches away as he leaned down to you from the bench, you felt the air in your lungs cease to leave your quivering lips, you could feel his warm breath brush against your skin, the feeling sent a shiver up your spine.

“I really like you.” he hushed into your into ear, the sound was so deep, so rich, you felt your heart stutter in your chest as he pulled away a proud look in his blue eyes as you chuckled

“Now who's the flirt?” You teased trying to take the attention off your flustered state the large man let out a gravely laugh

“Me? Definitely.” he chirped, you grinned looking at him with admiration as your hands mindlessly wandered the patches of grass beneath, plucking a daisy from the mellow earth you poked a hole through the stem, picking another daisy as you slid it through the hole.

The action seemed to come so natural to you Konig watched curiously, as your skillful hands gently held the flowers, you noticed his straying gaze with a smile.

“Do you want me to teach you?” you asked lowly, as Konigs eyes widened before he hummed thoughtfully as he slipped down from the bench, you could see his muscular figure shifting from under his uniforms layers, you averted your gaze away trying not to stare, as he sat next to you patiently waiting as he picked two small flowers of his own.

You awkwardly cleared your throat as you grabbed two more daisies for your demonstration.

“So you take the first flower and poke a small hole through the stem.” explained as Konig mirrored your quick, yet gentle hands, as you pushed the second daisy through, he fell silent and it seemed as though all he could focus on were your hands, at his silence you felt yourself grow slightly anxious.

“Did you get the second part?” you asked, turning your attention to him, he hummed lowly as he offered his palms to you displaying the fragile chain that he clutched delicately in his large hands.

You couldn’t help but smile, watching this trained assassin of sort, sit on the grass with you as docile as a kitten as he entertained your ideas of making silly flower chains.

“Great! Now you just repeat that.” you said mindlessly as you worked on your own, Konig let out a breathy chuckle at your words

“I got that.” he snickered at your directions which led you to feel a little bit dumb at the simple instructions you had given him.

“Yeah, right.” You muttered, you glanced back to your daisy chain, as it seemed everything had been silently, the soft summer sun creeped carefully up your back clinging to your hunched over figure like a blanket of warmth had been draped over your sweating figure, the breeze hushing and whispering to you as the grass swayed lazily in reply, the sound of crickets buzzing in the distance rang in your ears.

And Konig, his watery gaze lingering on your soft lips, you noticed but this time he didn’t flinch away instead he leaned in and you couldn’t help but gasp at the feeling, his hooded face inches from your, you could practically feel his hot breath grazing your lips, you felt your gaze locked on his.

He now hovered over you almost straddling you, as he caged you in his strong arms, you felt dizzy begin this close to him, like an hunted animal. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips.

“Can I…?” he was interrupted by the sound of a soldier calling out to him from behind, he let out a soft groan as he pulled away. Raising from the ground with an irritated groan, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as he pulled away

“Captain wants to see you.'' The soldier spoke quickly, his eyes not leaving the field in front of him as if he was scared of Konigs now narrowed gaze.

He tilted his head with a grunt and that seemed to be enough for the soldier to give a frantic nod before scampering away, you couldn’t help but frown as Konig sighed, turning to you as he squatted down leaning into your ear as he spoke.

“We'll finish this later.”

And you couldn’t help but feel like that was a promise.

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I love him sm 😩

#cod fluff #cod x reader #konig x reader #cod könig #cod modern warfare #call of duty headcanons #call of duty #konig x you #konig fic

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hockybish · 6 months

Text

It's Just a Game

I Hughes!sister au I

"Come on Lola hit the ball!" Quinn encouraged his little sister, although they were on opposite teams.

The siblings were playing some sort of made up hockey inspired game in the basement. Jack and Lola were against Quinn and Luke. At the moment Jack and Lola were losing,

"Just hit it already!" Jack grumbled, she was taking too long in his opinion.

"You got dis Bah!" Luke cheered.

Lola lined up with the ball on the floor, just like her older brothers had been teaching her and swung at it with all she had. She must have given it a little too much oomph because she completely missed the ball and fell over.

"Oops. I sorry." She got up and sadly looked at the ball that hadn't moved an inch.

"Try again." Quinn smiled helping his little sister get set up again. He was going to give her one more shot before moving on with the game.

Lola tried again and once again missed the ball to which Luke swooped in and shot it into the net, scoring another goal from his team.

And that was the game. Luke and Quinn won by a large margin.

"It's not fair!" Jack grumbles, smashing his stick into the ground. Jack knew it was all Lola's fault because she's a baby and he had to do all the work.

"Sorry Jack. We won fair and square! Right Lu?" Quinn smiled at his younger siblings. Jack glared angrily, Luke shook his head, agreeing with Quinn, and Lola just looked at the floor she knew it was her fault, it was always her fault.

"But you stuck me with the baby! She can't even do anything!" Jack crossed his arms, stick still in hand.

"Hey, I'm three. I not a baby!" Lola frowned, protesting that she was old enough to play with the older boys.

"I want to play again, and I want Luke on my team!" Jack insisted, ignoring the little girl's response to being called a baby. He was only consumed with what he wanted, and maybe if he could get his way with having Luke on his team, he wouldn't lose like he did when he was forced to team up with Lola.

All Jack wanted to do was win once.

"We don't want to play anymore." Luke said this, with Quinn nodding in agreement this time. They didn't want to play with a sore loser.

"Come on!" "No!"

"Argh! Why do you have to be such a baby?" Jack yelled once again at his little sister, with tears now forming in her eyes.

What happened next was a bit of a blur for all parties involved. One sibling took a swing and the other sibling screamed.

Ellen had been making dinner in the kitchen when her ears picked up the sound of someone crying in the basement, most likely her youngest child.

She knew it was only going to be a matter of time before the sweet little girl would come running up to her and she would have to scold the boys. What she didn't expect was to find Luke running up to her instead.

"Mommy, Mommy!" The four-year-old was out of breath. The distance from the downstairs living room to the upstairs kitchen wasn't that far, but Luke was trying to hurry. There was an emergency. "Bah's hurt!"

"I can hear her crying. What happened?" Ellen was trying to keep her voice level and even. She wanted to know what happened so she could figure out how to fix the problem before going down there.

"Jack hit Lola with a stick! There's blood everywhere! Come on, Mommy!" Luke tugged on his mother's hand.

"WHAT?!" She let her youngest son's hand slip from her grasp as she hurried down the steps. Sure enough, there was Quinn holding and trying to calm a crying Lola as best as he could while being covered in his sister's blood. And Jack, the little culprit, was nowhere to be seen.

"MOMMY!" Lola wailed, huge crocodile tears slipping down her cheeks, mixing with the sticky red sticky substance

"Shhh. It's okay, Lola. Lukey went to get Mommy. It's okay." Quinn repeated his words like a mantra, praying Luke would get back soon with his mom.

"Quinn, I've got it." Ellen took a hold of her baby girl. Quinn backed off, giving his mother free rein over the situation. Sweetie, what hurts? Lola, honey, let Mommy see." Through the tears Lola looked at her mother, showing off her busted fat lip and missing two front teeth.

"Oh, baby, it's not that bad." Ellen cooed, trying to calm the child. The use of the pet name baby sent Lola into another crying fit.

"Where's Jack?" The mother of four inquired, her eldest pointed in the direction of the couch, aka the spot all four Hughes children hide when they were in trouble.

Jack didn't dare move from his hiding spot. He was terrified of what was going to happen if he came out of hiding. He hit his little sister, he didn't mean too.

"Jack? Can you please come out now? It's going to be alright; everything is going to be alright. Lola's going to be okay." he had heard his mother call out for him.

"I I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry Lola. I was mad. I shouldn't have done it." He apologized as soon as he saw his sister. It took Lola a hot minute to forgive her brother, but she did and even gave him a hug,

"Thank you Jack. Please remember next time. It's just a game."

Age Guide: Quinn = 8, Jack = 6, Luke = 4, Lola = 3

#quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #lola hughes #hughes!sister au

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goldsbitch · 4 months

Text

That second flight

part 4 to That one Christmas flight

summary: What happens when people stop lying to themselves? Sometimes, you get a good night out of it.

warnings: cheesy af, swear words and alcohoI guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Do not fuck it up, do not fuck it up, do not fuck this up.

Hey you? What kind of a message even is that? Ugh. She ruined it. Now she will have to move away and start her life again.

The weather forecast predicted high levels of overreacting for today.

He must have liked the cool girl vibe she somehow gave of on the plane. Y/N prayed for the gods of cool vibes to bless her again.

Lando was just about to start an interview for Sky Sports when he received her message. He imagined this was how it felt to win a podium. On the top of the world. He gave an absolutely charismatic, energetic and funny interview. One that would surely create lots of gifs on the socials. PR manager even high-fived him when they finished. To be honest, he could not wait for a moment of solitude so that he could reply.

"hey" he started. "so I broke the rule, ups" Her reply came instantly.

"I've noticed. But then again, you radiate speeding tickets vibe from miles away. So no surprise."

He smiled, well aware of how efficient the Italian ticketing was running.

"paid one last week, so you got me there" "so, how's your cool student life going?"

"Trying gain some wisdom, as people just feel free to call me dumb on social media these days."

"compliments come in a variety of forms, don't discriminate"

From now on, there was no way back.

The next few days consisted of constant texting. Joking around, sending pictures capturing their daily life - both of them keeping in secret that lots of the information shared was nothing new. They were careful, somewhat distancing themselves from any real deep topics. But, days felt like blur, waiting for the next text to come and somehow managing to live the real life in between that. Y/N stayed in most evenings, almost making her friends concerned.

It did not take long enough for famously patient Lando to getting sick of it. They had a week between the next three week round of races. It was now or never. He missed one chance by being mr. mysterious, so mr. direct it was now.

"so, lady. what are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of the blue.

"I dunno. Probably studying, I guess."

"well, you're smart enough, you can skip that. let's meet up."

Y/N pretended to herself that she was second guessing. She headed out, to the bar where her friends were hanging out before they planned on heading to some faculty party. She felt joining them suddenly. Sat quietly, listening to their usual chit chat. Her charade lasted about seven minutes.

"Yes. Let's." she texted and threw her phone deep down to her bag. She was nervous, heart racing and mind quite not catching up yet.

"I need to tell you guys something," she interrupted them and almost demanded immediate attention. Questioning looks followed. "Uh, so I met this guy on a plane. And I'm gonna see him again this weekend."

Saying it like that, she realized that it was all kind of real and that she probably could not explain it in words how bizzare it all felt.

"Aw, that's cute! Tell us more!" Teresa clapped excitedly, the whole weird vibe surrounding her friend making more sense now.

Y/N expected her friends to be more shocked. "Um, yeah. It's just this guy. I don't really know how it's gonna happen, but yeah."

"Is he coming here? Can we meet him?"

Y/N kept the information that they already did to herself. Just in case she is left stranded alone and disappointed.

"I don't...I don't know actually. Yeah."

"We will do as we always do - sharing location and staying by if needed, honey."

Y/N missed a text notification. "great. i'll fly you out to somewhere where we can be alone, not to sound too creepy."

She landed an hour after him. Lando sent a picture of him waiting at the airport cafe.

He booked the best hotel room he could find. Well, technically he booked two rooms. Just in case she wanted to keep her distance or if by any chance he fucked up so royally, that she would refuse to share space with him. At least, he could walk away from this like a gentleman.

Since she last him, she forgot just how hot this guy was in person. Seeing him, sitting casually sipping coffee and glued to him phone, she took a moment to study him. It was as if he was tailored specifically to her taste. His clothes covering his godlike body, not too muscular but enough for the sight of his arms sending her to different dimension. The origin of her audacity she had to be the first one to talk to him on the plane was unknown to her. There was no more panic left in her body, as she had done nothing but panicking the whole flight.

She walked and sat opposite to him.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey yourself," she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. Turns out there was a bit of panic left in Y/N after all. Last week she though she'd never see this guy. And now she was staring in his eyes.

"Do you want some coffee?," he asked innocently. He looked her up and down, excited to see her. All of his worries he refused to acknowledge were gone. After all, she got up and flew here just to hang out with him. The reality of this filled him with confidence.

"Yes. A small tiny espresso with no milk."

"Great. Let's grab that and hit the road."

Lando's car might have as well run on butterflies alone present in his vehicle. There was absolutely no way for him to drive some random rental car, so he called up McLaren people to provide him one for the night. It came up in the same conversation when he requested personal time off. Both things came to a certain level of surprise, as he had never done this before. Y/N knew she had to work on a group project for one of her minor classes. Just like him, she had done something she would not have dared - and completely ghosted her group for this weekend.

"You look nice, btw," he commented casually.

"Well yeah, when you're not on an overnight flight across half of the world wearing airport attire, it makes thing easier."

"Hm, I would say sweatpants have some magic to them."

It was hard for Y/N to get the image of him out of her head.

"So, where is my lovely kidnapper taking me?"

They discussed prior to this that the vibe they would like out of this was a casual dinner and then finding the shittiest club possible and have some fun, trying to remain as private as possible yet within the vicinity of the small Italian city.

"My assistant found this lovely little place in the centre. Don't get mad, but I had him completely book it out. You know, the privacy thing," he said with more insecurity than one would expect.

Y/N picked up on that and tried to lighten up the mood. It seemed a bit excessive to do that, but he probably knew what he was doing.

"Your assistant," she gagged over dramatically. "Jesus, am I not worth enough for you to google on your own? Mr. Busy man. Was he also the one who found me online them?" she joked?

"I'm sure I'd have to hire a special person to that if I planned on outsourcing it."

"Creep."

"You love it."

And she did.

He parked in front of the restaurant, without a care for the world.

"So you're telling me we're making a big deal about keeping a secret that you're here, yet you decide to park like a proper asshole?" she remarked while he opened the door for her. Jokes were making her focus on something else than the fact she was falling for him too hard.

"Oh, you're going absolutely hate my plan," he laughed as they were entering the full on empty restaurant.

"Wow, look at that. I invited all my friends!" he whispered to her ear before addressing the owner.

"Hello, you must be Dario?"

This Dario person smiled brightly at him. "Ah, mister Papaya!" Lando nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dario then started speaking Italian without a care of the world. Language wise deaf Lando did not count for the fact people just did not speak English in this part of Italy. A tiny crack in his plan. What was he suppose to do, call Carlos? But, Y/N having spend a good year or two studying there was there to ease the situation. She whipped out her B1 Italian and greeted the man. Dario's happiness filled up the room.

He seated them and immediately brought local red wine and giving a long talk about where this wine was from and how his grandma used to pick up the grapes herself and how the notes did this and that. Y/N tried to translate at the beginning, but Dario looked like was ready to give a TED talk. She started to loose the grasp of the story, which Lando observed. And like good gentleman he helped her out. No, of course not, when he saw her getting lost, he put on a super interested face and asked about seven follow up questions. Y/N was super annoyed. The kind of annoyed that creates a smile on your face.

When this showdown finally ended, Y/N nearly gulped the wine down. "So rude, Dario just said, you're suppose to sit it and let it roll," said Lando and with too much affect sipped his wine. "Aah," he took a deep breath and the bit his tongue. Y/N stuck her tongue out completely like a five year old child. "Yes, I can your red tongue, that's also one of the reasons why you sip it."

They sat, talked and laughed. He seemed genuinely interested when she blabbed a little bit too long about her latest projects. And then he asked her for a feedback on his latest merch, which by sheer coincidence included lots of photos of him. It was hard to admit how much he enjoyed the idea of her looking at him.

"So, um. I'm not sure I understood Dario correctly. But it looks like he insists on getting us the local speciality," she said hesistantly.

"Well, only if his grandma would approve. But why is this strange look on your face?"

"I must have gotten it wrong. Because burnt pasta just sounds wrong. If I wanted that, I could have stayed and have my roommate cook for us."

"Hm, that is an interesting idea." Lando pretended he did not know her roommate's name.

Once Darion brought out the burnt pasta, the couple had a hard time not to laugh.

"When in Rome...well not in Rome, but you get the idea."

"Why is this good?" Y/N proclaimed with her mouth full to the limit.

Lando laughed. "Ah, we have a lady at the table, I see. I mean yeah, I am not supposed to be having pasta now, but this is so weirdly good."

They finished their strange pasta and the bottle of wine. Said goodbye to Dario, Y/N tried not to think on how much it cost to close a restaurant down.

"Wait, what are we going to do about the car? We can't drive now."

"Not to sound like a complete asshole, but I'd like we remove the WE from any sentence including driving now at the beginning, if that is ok. And like I said at the beginning, you're gonna hate this."

"Go on, Lando boy. Tell me."

"Yeah, the car was provided by my employer. And they really need me, so I'm just going to leave the car here to get towed and inform them later."

"Jesus, why!"

"Well, I figured we'll get a taxi in the morning. I want to enjoy all the time I have with you. Dealing with the car is not on the menu today."

There was nothing for Y/N to reply. She was having too much fun to be thinking.

They found what seemed to be the shittiest bar playing 80's and 90's songs, weirdly colored lights swinging out of the rhythm and with people there consisting of old papas and few probably underaged kids. They brought their own wine bottle from Dario, Lando paid 100 euro for two glasses and for the bartender leaving them alone. It did not take long for Y/N to break out to the dance floor. Lando watched her clumsy yet somehow elegant moves for a moment, before he joined her. They danced, as if they were the only people there, laughing and completely ignoring the looks they were getting. And to the tones of remix of Brother Louis, they kissed again. And this time, they kept kissing until late hours, hand roaming around each other, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time.

part 5

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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1 @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother

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henwilsonmd · 1 year

Text

post 6x18: some out-of-order vignettes | ao3

4251 words

“Buck,” said Eddie, trying to school his face into something less fond and amused. “That’s my couch.”

Buck turned from where he’d been happily showing off the new piece of furniture he’d gotten with Natalia the day prior. “What?”

“The couch,” Eddie repeated, with a quirk of his eyebrow. “You bought my exact couch.”

“No,” Buck replied with a shake of his head. “No, it’s definitely different.”

read on ao3

Eddie looked at it—a three-seater in dark blue, velvet-y fabric with square corners and deep seats to accommodate his long legs. They’d picked out some nice white decorative pillows for it, and it’s certainly brand-new looking, but—

“It’s totally the same.” Eddie gave up on hiding his smile.

Buck looked back to the couch, tilting his head to scrutinize it. After a moment, he sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “Ah, fuck. It’s totally the same.”

Eddie groaned, letting his head thump back onto the edge of the cot behind him. “The pain meds are definitely kicking in.”

“Well, good,” snarked Buck from a chair next to him, attention half-focused on his phone in his hands. “That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Eddie sighed, long-suffering. “You too?”

“Yes, Eddie, me too.” Buck replied, thumbs flying as he tapped out something on the screen in his hands. Probably to Maddie. Probably about Chim. Who was probably okay. “Your ribs are fucking broken.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, staring at the ceiling. “And I know what they feel like. I’m fine, there was—other stuff going on.” He thought about that paramedic from the 133 shining a penlight into Hen’s eyes, frowning like he didn’t like the results and going back in to do it again. He thought about the constant jitter of Buck’s leg next to him, the constant worry for Bobby and Chimney who’d taken the other two ambulances before the three of them had managed to squeeze into another cab. “Besides,” Eddie pulled himself back on track. “Did you even get checked out?” He leveled Buck with a look that he hoped had more energy behind it than he had left.

Buck shrugged, powering off his phone with a click. “I’m fine.”

“There’s blood all over your face,” Eddie pointed out.

“Hen cleaned most of it up already.”

“There was more?”

“That’s—Eddie, I’m fine,” Buck said, turning towards him. “I scraped up my cheek and bit my tongue when I fell, and, sure, I’ll be a little bruised, but I’m fine.”

“You lost consciousness,” Eddie pointed out, and he swallowed around a dry throat.

“How… how did you know that?” Buck stuttered in reply.

Eddie gave his own shrug, picking at the edge of the right kneepad on his turnout pants. “I didn’t pass out. I radioed right after I’d gotten my bearings, but no one answered. Then, like, thirty seconds later you must have woken up.”

Buck, for a moment, held Eddie’s gaze with something so unbelievably devastated, and guilty—like the thought of not being able to answer Eddie’s call was the worst possible thing that had happened that day. Then he flicked his eyes down to the floor. “Okay, s-so, like, thirty seconds. I’m fine, Eddie. Really.”

Eddie frowned, thinking about those thirty seconds—an unbearable weight on his back, a growing pain in his chest, and the clawing panic as he listened to the silence stretching out on the other side of the radio and fought the mounting urge to plead, I’m still alive, please, I’m still alive down here.

And then how he’d breathed a hugely painful sigh of relief when Buck finally asked for a headcount, how he’d fumbled into his pocket for his St. Christopher medal and prayed—something he hadn’t done since that awful week of the coma. Prayed that he’d come home safe to his son, but also that Buck would be careful—that he wouldn’t do something stupid and destructive and reckless to save any of them.

That heady rush of gratitude when Buck had sawed the doors open, taking off his safety goggles and assessing Eddie’s situation with a calculating, heavy gaze.

Next to him, Buck cleared his throat, shifting in the chair. “Anyway, you broke three ribs, man. Let the meds do their job.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, leaning back into the pillows behind him. “Trust me, they are.”

Eddie sipped his Diet Coke, beer off-limits because he was still taking the Tylenol threes. “So, you finally got a new couch.”

“I had a couch before,” Buck pointed out, a matching soda in his hand for solidarity. “Kameron just—y’know, gave birth all over it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, snorting a soft laugh. “That must have been wild.”

Buck chuckled. “The baby didn’t want to wait, I guess.”

“Impatient little guy,” Eddie said. “Must be those Buckley genes.”

“Hey,” Buck protested, pointing a finger. “I can be plenty patient.”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed placatingly, but be noticed how there seemed to be something more behind the mirth in Buck’s eyes—the plastic pieces at the edges of his smile. He fought the urge to say I told you so—mostly because it would have been childish, but also because Buck hadn’t asked for his opinion at any step of the way, and Eddie hadn’t offered.

Eddie decided to wait him out—usually the best course of action when it came to Buck. Eddie understood intimately how much time it could take to parse through a mess of feelings in your brain and formulate them into words that would make sense to another person. Usually, Eddie would sit quietly and sip his beer while watching Buck’s feelings play out on his unguarded face, and after a minute or two Buck would haltingly begin to explain what had been going on with him.

Eddie had tried to explain that to Maddie when they’d both been nearly sick with worry over Buck’s post-coma mental state. “He’ll come to you when he’s ready,” Eddie had said over the phone. “You can’t force him to talk about it.”

“Eddie, you don’t know him like I do,” Maddie had protested. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

And Eddie had opened his mouth to say no, actually, I know him better than you, I know him better than anyone, but—that’s not true, is it? Why would Eddie know Buck better than his own sister, who’s spent the entire thirty years of his life caring for him, when Eddie’s only had him for—what, five years? Then subtract all the things they didn’t talk to each other about and all the issues they’ve had, and—yeah, who is Eddie to say what’s best for Buck?

And then Buck had knocked on his door and passed out on his couch and Eddie had felt righteously vindicated in a way that he almost wanted to rub in Maddie’s face, which was kind of bitchy of him to think.

So, Buck sipped his soda next to Eddie on his new couch, a storm of emotions clear on his face, and Eddie waited him out because that’s what he does.

Buck let out a sigh, and Eddie thought, here it is, he’ll let me in, and then— “Want to watch the Dodgers game?”

Eddie blinked. “Um, sure.”

And Buck turned on the TV.

Doubt roiled in Eddie’s gut.

“What about Hen?” Eddie asked, Buck’s hand tight on his arm as he helped him into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“Karen already took her home, she’s fine,” Buck replied easily, before he shut the door and rounded the front of the car.

He’d left when Eddie had been taken back for x-rays, taking an Uber back to the station to pick up his car so he could come back to get Eddie and drive them both home. Eddie absently wondered when he would get a chance to get his truck from the station parking lot.

Buck hopped into the driver’s seat, fitting his keys in the ignition but pausing before turning the engine. He fixed Eddie with a gentle, reassuring look. “Seriously, man, everyone’s fine. Athena’s with Bobby, Maddie’s with Chim, let’s go home.”

Eddie swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought about just how close literally every single one of them except Ravi had come to something far more serious than some hospital bills and time off work.

His gaze slid to Buck, who flashed him that small, soft, close-mouthed smile that Eddie rarely saw—the one that made his chest feel warm and gooey.

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

The Dodgers were losing, and Buck wasn’t talking about it. Eddie tried not to either of those things get to him.

During a commercial break, Buck got up to throw their empty pizza boxes away, waving Eddie off as he moved to help.

When he came back into the living room, he paused under the overhang of the loft, just staring at Eddie.

“What?” he asked, a bit self-conscious.

Buck huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I bought your couch.”

Eddie snorted. “Don’t worry about it, man. It’s flattering. You think I have good taste.”

Buck raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if that’s it. Half the furniture in your house is from Target.”

Eddie sputtered. “I—what’s wrong with Target furniture?”

Buck, lowering himself back onto the cushions next to Eddie, raised his hands in a show of innocence. “Nothing, man. I just—I don’t know if I would call it good taste.”

Having no comeback, Eddie just whacked him in the shoulder.

Buck laughed, playfully pushing his hand away. “Hey, c’mon, don’t start shit when I can’t retaliate.”

Eddie smirked. “Why? ‘Cause you know you can’t take me?”

“No,” Buck denied. “’Cause your ribs are still fucking broken.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Buck.”

“Well.” Buck crossed his arms, turning back to the TV as the next inning started. “Forgive me for wanting to be careful.”

For a moment, Eddie considered saying hey, maybe we should talk about how I could’ve almost died again? But Buck clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk about the big things, and Eddie didn’t really want to think about that yet either, so he settled for bumping their shoulders together.

Buck leaned right back into him, and neither of them moved apart—the comforting warmth of the contact buzzing in Eddie’s brain like the alcohol he wasn’t drinking.

Eddie smiled down at his hands. “You like my couch,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck groused, slouching into the cushions as they watched a batter swing and miss yet again. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Are you sure you’re both alright?” Carla asked, a worried hand hovering over his elbow. “I caught some of the collapse on the news.”

Eddie flashed her a smile before turning to pour two glasses of water—one for him and one for Buck, who was off in Christopher’s room. “We’re okay,” he said. “A little banged up, but the doctors said I should be back to work in six weeks or less.”

Carla narrowed her eyes. “You better take that full six weeks.”

Eddie set the Brita down and met her gaze. “I’m fine, Carla. Really.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “I just—I worry about you, Eddie. Okay? I know you’d rather I didn’t, but I can’t help it.”

Eddie ducked his head and smiled, a bit, filled with that familiar half-disbelief that people really do care about him. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but—I was lucky today. That nothing worse happened, that—that Buck was there to pull me out.”

Carla scoffed. “Of course he was. I don’t think luck had anything to do with that one.”

Eddie tried to fight the blush off his cheeks—he didn’t know what to do with that. Carla’s surety that Buck would save him come hell or high water. His own surety that Buck would be ripping open the doors of that camper van any second now.

When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything, Carla cleared her throat. “I should go. You up for a hug?”

“From you?” Eddie responded easily. “Always.”

Carla pulled him into a gentle-but-still-desperate embrace. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.” With a frown, she brought a hand up to ruffle the wilting mess on Eddie’s head. “Your dusty-ass hair. Take a shower, alright?”

Eddie laughed. “Alright, alright.”

“It’s a little early for a welcome back party, don’t you think?” Eddie said as Athena hugged him in greeting, Christopher heading off in search of the other kids.

“You and Bobby are headed back tomorrow,” Athena pointed out.

“Yeah, and Chimney’s not back for another two weeks.”

“And you best believe I’ll throw another party for him.”

Eddie laughed, before venturing further into the house to greet everyone else. His ribs had healed perfectly, barely a twinge when he’d thrown himself onto the couch in triumph yesterday. Which—speaking of, Eddie’s phone was burning a hole in his pocket and he was doing a very good job of ignoring that.

Or, he was, until a lull in conversation found him standing alone in the kitchen and pulling it out of his jeans. No texts. Which—of course, they’d agreed to go for coffee after his shift on Friday, why would she text him before that—but, still. Eddie was nervous. Sue him.

His thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment while he debates if it’s too much of a desperate move to text Marisol before they even go on a date. Christopher would know.

“Who are you texting?” asked a voice, and Eddie fumbled to turn off his phone and shove it in his pocket before someone could see… what?

He looked up to see Buck smiling at his antics, a beer in hand.

“Oh, it’s you,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the counter.

Buck sidled over to join him, staring out the windows at the backyard where the party was in full swing. “Just me. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie replied, for some reason hoping desperately that Buck wouldn’t ask him about—

“So,” Buck nudged an elbow into his arm. “Who were you texting?”

—fuck. Eddie wasn’t sure why this felt like something he didn’t want to tell Buck, to whom he tells everything, but… they don’t really talk about their girlfriends? It was always, always awkward, and it always left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

But, Eddie’s excited about this. Marisol probably won’t be the one, or whatever, but—still. Eddie was excited that his brain was finally in a place where he could think about opening up his life to someone and it wouldn’t send him into a panic attack that landed him in the ER.

And Buck asked.

And Eddie’s not in the habit of saying no to him.

“Um,” he started. “Do you remember Marisol? From the—”

“—yeah, yeah!” Buck cut him off. “So, you were texting her?” He raised his eyebrows, a knowing glint in his gaze.

Eddie blushed. “Yeah, uh… we’re going on a date?” he said quietly, a pit of dread or something similar opening in his gut.

Buck was quiet for a moment, and Eddie risked a glance at his face. He just caught the edge of something shocked and maybe fearful in his expression before it cleared and was replaced by one of those huge, sunny smiles.

“Eddie!” Buck exclaimed. “That’s great! Oh my god, man, this is awesome,” he enthused, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and squeezing him close.

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled, still unsure why part of him felt sick with guilt.

“Hey, ever notice how we always start dating at the same time?”

“No, do we?” Eddie lied, thinking about how he’d agonized over making the call and kept telling himself Buck’s with Natalia now, you should do this.

Buck laughed again, before he jolted with surprise and turned to Eddie, excitedly slapping him on the arm. “Dude! We can go on double dates now!”

Eddie frowned. “We didn’t last time.”

Buck shrugged. “Well, you didn’t like Taylor, so I figured—”

“I liked Taylor,” Eddie protested.

Buck snorted. “Uh, no, you didn’t.”

Eddie tilted his head in a you-got-me face. “I kind of didn’t. I thought you didn’t notice.”

Buck dropped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders again, making Eddie huff out a breath. “Oh, Edmundo, I always notice.”

No you don’t, Eddie thought, and then he ignored that.

“But,” Buck continued, a hesitation in his voice. “You—you like Natalia, right?”

Eddie didn’t really know her at all, except for how excited she’d been about Buck’s death-that-didn’t-stick and how angry that had made him. “Yeah,” Eddie lied again. “She’s good for you. And she has good taste in couches.”

Buck laughed, relieved. “Good. So—we’ll do a double date, yeah? Me, you, Natalia, Marisol.”

Fuck, no. Eddie thought. That sounds awful.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie said instead. “That sounds great.”

Eddie was in the kitchen, pre-heating the oven to heat up some frozen chicken tenders because he didn’t have the energy to cook anything else when he felt little arms wrap gently around his midsection. It hurt his ribs, but Eddie didn’t have the heart to dislodge his son—not when these hugs were becoming rarer and rarer each day.

“Hey, kid,” Eddie said, turning in the hold and dropping a hand onto Christopher’s head. “What’s up?”

Eddie had already seen him, when he popped his head into Christopher’s room to find him sitting with Buck, a careful hand brushing the wounds on the man’s cheek. The sight had made something massive and unknowable bloom inside Eddie’s broken chest, threatening to choke him. He’d tamped it down and hugged Chris hello before heading off to shower, but apparently that hadn’t been enough.

Chris looked up, propping his chin on Eddie’s sternum. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, a tightness in his voice betraying him.

Eddie smiled. “Me too.” Even though it sparked the ache in his side into a bona-fide pain, Eddie leaned over to drop a kiss onto Christopher’s head—something he barely tolerates anymore. “Hey, the doctors said I’d be good as new in six weeks. Think you can deal with having me around all the time for that long?”

Chris laughed, bright and happy, and Eddie’s heart sang. “I’ll try,” he joked, and then something clouded passed over his face. “Buck’s okay, too, right? His face is bloody.”

“Oh, buddy,” Eddie sighed. Usually, he would kneel down to meet Christopher’s gaze, but he settled for easing himself into a chair and ignoring the concerned look Chris was giving him. “Buck’s totally fine, he just got scraped up a little bit. And today was pretty—pretty scary. For both of us.” He swallowed down the urge to berate himself for telling his kid he was scared, and it seemed to be the right move, because Chris nodded along with wide, careful eyes.

Eddie sighed again, settling his hands on his son’s shoulders. “But—tell you what. Buck’s gonna stay with us tonight, and he’s pretty bad at taking care of himself, right?” Chris giggled at that, and Eddie smiled in response. “So you and I are gonna have to be sneaky about taking care of him tonight, okay?”

Eddie expected Chris to give another sweet smile, and maybe to offer some comfort so earnest and childlike in its innocence that it made everything in the world feel right again, so he wasn’t quite sure to do when Chris burst out into loud, raucous laughter.

“Okay, what’s so funny?” he said, playing at being annoyed.

“It’s just,” Chris managed through his massive smile. “That’s exactly what Buck said. About you!”

Eddie just blinked in response, and Chris fell into peals of laughter again. “Okay,” Eddie said with mock-offense. “Okay, I see how it is. Gang up on the injured guy, why don’t you.”

“Da-ad,” Chris whined, fixing him with a very grown-up look. “We just care about you.”

Eddie pursed his lips, that unknown emotion threatening to drown him again. “Yeah,” he said, more choked-up than he would like. “I know.”

A small hand covered his, and Eddie flipped his own over to give it a squeeze. “Why don’t you go put on the next episode of María, okay? We’ll translate for Buck.”

Chris smirked. “You mean you’ll translate for Buck.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, kid,” Eddie offered as Chris disappeared into the living room.

And later, when they were all piled on the couch, Christopher giggling at Eddie’s half-assed translations and Buck protesting that he understands more Spanish than you think, guys, the newest dose of pain meds forced upon him by Buck making his head more than a bit fuzzy, Eddie thought to himself: I wish it could be like this forever.

Buck shouted in exaggerated outrage to make Chris laugh, gesturing at some ridiculous plot point playing out on the screen, and Eddie let that huge wave of feeling bowl him over—that world-ending, all-consuming love.

Just this. Forever.

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Hen said, a hand raised to keep Eddie quiet. “He has this whole thing about his girlfriends being couches, and the couch he finally bought is your couch?”

Feeling somehow embarrassed, Eddie just nodded. Hen shared a smirk with Chimney, sitting on the lawn chair that Maddie hadn’t let him move from for the entire party.

“That’s like—almost romantic,” Chimney snorted.

“What?” Eddie said.

“He’s been looking for the perfect couch, but it was yours all along!” Chim crowed, and Hen dissolved into giggles. She was definitely more than a little drunk.

“It’s so sweet, Eddie, come on,” she needled.

“Well, sure, but—” Eddie sputtered. “—romantic? Come on, guys.”

“No, you—you come on.” Hen said around a hiccup. “You guys are—Buck and Eddie! Eddie and Buck!”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied with a frown. “And you guys are Hen and Chim.”

“Nah, no, no, no,” Chim said with a wagging finger. “It’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?” Eddie threw his hands in the air, one hampered by the half-full bottle in his hand. “You guys are partners, just like us.”

“Yeah, but,” Hen said. “You guys are partners,” she explained, trying for some hand gesture that must have gotten lost in the all the alcohol and rush of the party because she just ended up clasping her hands together awkwardly.

“You guys are crazy,” Eddie said with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“And you’re crazy about Buck,” Hen said in an it’s-so-obvious whisper.

Eddie drew back. “What?”

“Hen—” Chimney started, a hand on her arm.

She shook him off. “No, I gotta—Eddie, you and Buck are like, perfect for each other. You love him, right?” Her eyes were wide and earnest behind her glasses.

“Of course I do,” Eddie said automatically.

Hen gestured emphatically, whacking Chim on the shoulder like this proved her point.

“Hen,” Eddie said gently. “Did you forget that I’m straight?”

Hen scowled, like she did not want to be reminded of this fact. “Okay, but like—if Buck was a girl, you would have asked him out by now. You’d be like—fucking married by now.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but found his mind stuck on Hen’s words. If Buck was a girl. Him and Buck, married. Eddie felt far drunker than he should be off just one and a half beers.

“Eddie, ignore her,” Chim cut in.

Hen frowned. “I’m going to find Karen,” she declared.

Eddie watched her retreating form, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “He’s my best friend,” he said belatedly.

“Eddie.” Chimney kicked his leg. “Ignore her, okay? She’s drunk.”

“Yeah, but—” Eddie started.

“Look,” Chim sighed. “We joke about you and Buck sometimes, okay?”

“You do?” Eddie asked.

“Little stuff,” Chimney assured. “Just, like, you’re each other’s favorite person and you’re missing what’s right in front of you, or whatever.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, to refute—what?—but Chim continued.

“But they’re just jokes, okay? We know you’re both straight. I mean, it’d be great if you weren’t, or whatever, but that’s not the world we live in.”

Eddie’s jaw closed with a click. He sipped his beer.

“He’s your best friend.” Eddie looked back to Chimney. “And that’s—” He seemed to search Eddie’s face for a moment. “That’s enough, right?”

Eddie swallows. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Exactly,” Chim agreed with an easy smile. “So, don’t worry about it, okay? She’s just drunk and forgot that we don’t make those jokes in front of you guys.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. Besides, Buck has a girlfriend, and—I have a date on Friday, so…”

“You have a date on Friday?” Chimney exclaimed. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, voice flat.

Chimney clapped him on the forearm, unable to reach his shoulder from his sitting position. “Look, man, you’ll find that perfect girl-version of Buck out there, okay? I believe.”

Eddie chuckled. “Sure.”

He looked out to the party—his eyes immediately found Buck, head thrown back in laughter at something Athena had said. The string lights of the backyard made his styled curls shine with a honey-colored fire, his fingers curled carelessly around the neck of a beer bottle made Eddie’s mouth feel suddenly dry.

Just this. Just you, Eddie thought.

“You’re right,” he said to Chimney with a hollow smile. “I’ll find someone.”

#I'M BACK BABY #ofc i HAD to write a coda for this one come on #if this gets interaction i'll probably post on ao3 bc it's pretty long so i'll come back and edit this post if that's the case #anyway i have a LOT of wips that i'm planning on finishing and i want to be more active on here/make some friends #so drop a follow if you want to see any of that lol #anyway this was just a fun little thing that i hope y'all enjoy!#911 #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 6x18 #911 6x18 coda #writing #drabbles #even though it's not really a drabble i want it with the rest of my codas #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #buddie

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kittievampire · 1 year

Note

I came because I was in love with your obey me yandere smut! So...can I have something similar to "Mine" but with Simeon 🥺🥺🥺? Please!

Please ignore me if you’re not comfortable with this request.

Honestly, anon, it's sinful that'd you'd request such a thing of me! I couldn't possibly write something like that for Simeon! I'll have you know that he is a man of God, an ANGEL and if you think okay the people who think Simeon shouldn't be depicted this way are gone now, lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Cleansed

Warnings: Dark themes, Cursing, Blood, Violence, Yandere! Simeon x Fem! MC, Virgin! MC, Smut, Teasing, Baby-Trapping, Murder, Manipulation, Obsession, Guilt-Tripping, Somnophilia (MC gets put to sleep), Most likely an incorrect quote from the bible, Fingering, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Non-Con/Rape to Dub-Con

🚨READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY TAGS🚨

Enjoy.

Simeon never knew that he could feel this way about someone.

What he felt exactly, he couldn't say. He couldn't put a finger on it— couldn't put it into words if asked. If he had to describe it, he'd probably say it was something that made him feel like his heart would leap out of his chest with its intense and rapid beating, something that made him want to be close to you, something that made him want to follow you to the ends of the Devildom and back (which may have been literal on some explorative occasions).

Either way, there was one thing this angel knew for a fact.

He had to have you.

This sense of possessiveness started out small. He would follow you around all day, walk you home most nights, and wonder what you were up to when he wasn't by your side. It was always so curious to him how a little human such as yourself suddenly became a being he held of higher regard and importance than Michael, though he'd never tell his higher-up such information.

However, it didn't take long for this obsession to grow.

Simeon was convinced that this was his Father's plan. That he was meant to feel this way about you, that you were meant to be his. Every night, he'd find himself praying, not only for your well-being and fortune, but also for a romantic relationship to blossom from your friendship.

It was the word of the Father, of course.

What God has joined together, let no man seperate. We must guard our union, so that the outside world cannot seperate it.

He has to protect you, no matter what. Especially from the vile lower demons that want a piece of you. Simeon wouldn't dare even think of harming one of the brothers, they were his brothers once, too; Nor did he believe that any of your friends should be hurt. But those that you were uncomfortable with? Those that you didn't know on a personal level? Those that wanted you? Their vary existence was sinful.

They must be cleansed.

"Simeon, what is this?"

Your voice was so sweet. It made him feel weak in the knees. Though, he couldn't afford to lose his composure now. Not when he'd finally mustered up the courage to ask you out on a date.

Well, it was a date you were unaware of. But he put his everything into it! You might as well think of it as such out of appreciation!

The angel smiled, motioning toward the empty seat in front of him. He'd managed to convince the owner of this restaurant to place a table on the second-floor balcony. He wanted to be able to see how the moonlight made your features glow.

Simeon had told you to dress formally for this dinner, but you didn't expect the setting to be this fancy! To say you were excited was an understatement.

You sat down in front of him, clasping your hands together as you tried to process your surroundings. "Wow, Simeon, this is truly amazing... I can't thank you enough, but I am curious about the occasion," You ask softly, a small blush forning on your face.

The angel chuckled softly, lifting one of his hands to gently caress the petal on one of the roses that the vase in the middle of the table held. "One as divine as yourself must be treated to such things, wouldn't you agree?" His voice sounded so sweet to your ears, reminding you of the vanilla sweets he and Luke would bake for you.

"Hi, welcome to... MC?"

You snapped your head to the side, looking up at the waiter approaching your table. Your face paled as you recognized the familiar demon standing before you. It was an incubus that had hit on you recently, the only one you didn't tell Simeon about. "Toran?" You murmured softly, earning a nod from the waiter. "Where have you been? Why haven't you responded to any of my texts, huh? You too good for me or somethin'?" The demon before you suddenly became more aggressive than you felt comfortable dealing with. Simeon could sense your growing discomfort and stood, approaching the waiter. "Excuse me, I don't believe this is appropriate conduct for someone in your position, may I request we get another waiter?" He asked, earning a scoff from the demon whose name he couldn't bother to remember. "Hey, I'm not talking to you, yeah? Why don't you-" "Toran!" You shouted, catching the attention of both of the gentlemen before you. "I... I gave you the wrong number, I'll give it to you. Please, just leave us alone, yes?"

Simeon's face contorted into that of a disgusted look, one that you didn't see.

Why the hell were you even entertaining the idea of giving your information to this asshole? You were supposed to be with him, not this foul demonic garbage. "That won't be necessary, MC," Simeon said with a warm smile, the demon turning to face him. "What the hell do you-" "I'd like to request a change in waiters, please. I don't think you'd want your higher-ups to know about this, so I suggest you do everything you can to make things right!"

He truly was angelic, wasn't he?

You couldn't help but smile a bit, feeling your heart thump against your chest as your cheeks heated up. You looked away for a moment, trying to calm yourself down.

Simeon glanced at you before he roughly grabbed the waiter by his collar and pulled him close. "It'd be in your best interest not to anger me. That girl is the only reason you're still breathing, demon," He whispered into the demon's ear before pushing him away.

Your gaze met the angel's and you couldn't help but blush once more. "A-Ah! Did he finally leave? I'm so sorry, Simeon. I didn't know he worked here! He's been harassing me for the past few weeks, and I just don't know what to do anymore." You started rambling, Simeon sitting down before you and listening closely to every single word that left those lovely lips of yours. They looked so soft.

However, he couldn't forget the sheer audacity of that demon. His presence, his words, his existence, all of it was a sin that must be cleansed. How dare he even breathe in your direction? It all frustrated the angel.

That's okay. Simeon would deal with him later. He had to comfort his lover now. "That sounds horrible! Have you told anyone else about this?" He asked reaching over the table and gently grasping your hand. You turned away from his gaze bashfully, blush only growing darker as you felt his eyes pierce through you. "No, you're the only one that knows about him."

Simeon felt his heart pound against his chest at this. He was the only person you trusted enough to tell? Oh, you're so dependent on him, just how it should be. What a good girlfriend you are, even if you didn't know it yet. "I see," He managed to murmur out softly, a light chuckle escaping his lips as you met his gaze once more.

"I'll do with this information what I can to help you, MC. I promise,"

Simeon splashed water over Toran's tied-up body, causing the demon to wake up in a panic. Though, his sounds of confusion were muffled by the gag in his mouth. Simeon's hand shot forward, gripping either side of his face and forcing him to meet his gaze. "Disgusting," He muttered softly, a glare making its way to the angel's face. He scoffed and pushed Toran's head away from him, taking a step back and pinching his chin between his thumb and index finger. "Ah, what was your name again?" He asked, voice shifting back to the one he wore normally. The one that angels such as himself were expected to wear. "Toran, I believe, yes?" He asked softly, adjusting his black gloves as he turned his back to the demon. "MC requested I not get you in too much trouble with your higher-ups if I take action. She really is sweet, isn't she?"

Simeon turned around, brushing his gloved fingers over the blade in his hand. "You see, I believe that MC is far too divine to be saddened by someone such as yourself. I believe it is my duty as an angel to expel any unhappiness from her life as I see fit." He made his way over to the demon, gently pressing the sharp tip of the blade against his chin. "I'm like her guarding angel in that way, aren't I? I'd make such a good husband, don't you think? If I asked her to marry me... No, she'd be weirded out by such a thing. I have to ask her to be my girlfriend first, don't I?" Simeon's list of questions was left unanswered, but the sound of the demon muffling something under the gag while he was talking only irritated the demon's captor further. "Has no one taught you manners?" He sliced the bottom of the demon's chin, blood spilling out, and a muffled cry erupted from Toran's throat.

"I truly don't appreciate how you treat MC... It truly is unfortunate. You must be cleansed, demon." He pushed the blade against Toran's chest.

"I will do what I must to protect my human,"

Simeon loved you. He loved you more than anything else in this world, more than he loved himself, more than he loved his Father. He just couldn't bare the thought of you rejecting him is all! That's the only reason why this happened.

You were close, so close to finding out his secret. So close to finding the corpses. He wrapped his hand over your mouth and nose and began to chant a sleeping spell into your ear softly, and when you fell limp in his arms, he placed you on the bed.

Now, you looked so beautiful, so innocent, so carefree. He couldn't help but be drawn to your divinity. The way your skirt was pushed up by the duvet slightly, showing him the plush of your thigh. The blush on his face was dark, as were his eyes.

He had to claim you.

In the blink of an eye, he was between your legs, sliding your panties off of you from beneath your skirt, his breath hitching as he saw your pussy. He could feel a lump of saliva form in his throat as he slowly lowered his hand, running two gloved fingers down your slit. Simeon stared at your cunt, not blinking, not moving anything but his hand. He was infatuated with your body, and the only thing that was missing was your whimpers and pleas for him to keep going. Slowly, he pushed his fingers into you, your velvety walls welcoming the digits.

You were tight.

You were a virgin.

A whimper poured from your lips as he shoved his fingers all the way inside of you, his knuckles meeting your entrance. Simeon glanced up at your face to see your expression change, brows knitting together as your lips parted ever so slightly. However, you gave no signal of consciousness. He reached his free hand forward as he began to slowly thrust his fingers into you, making scissoring movements to stretch you. With his free hand he parted your black RAD jacket and unbuttoned your teal underblouse.

Simeon's breathing hitched once more as he saw the white bra you were wearing, taking a moment to think about this situation. You were asleep and vulnerable, and here he was, defiling you. He looked down at his hand, eyes widening at how your essence clung to his fingers.

You wanted him too.

"Haah... I knew it," He muttered out softly, a smile forming on his face. "I knew you wanted me, you naughty girl. Your body's so honest with me."

Biting his lip, he slowly pushed a third finger into you. At the same time, he hooked his index finger around the middle of your bra, pulling it down, and allowing your breasts to spill out. Immediately, his hand groped your mound, squeezing the soft flesh and allowing a chill to run down his spine as he thrusted his fingers faster. "Come on, my dear, give me an orgasm," He said, voice full of desperation, making it seem more like he was begging you. "I need to see you cum for me, darling."

Soft moans and gasps erupted from your throat, and he felt your thighs pushing against his hand. He frowned, pushing your thighs further apart and positioning himself inbetween your legs. "None of that, Dove," He said softly, feeling the heat that pooled around his fingers go straight to his cock. His thumb reached up to trace circles over your clit, causing you to whine and squirm in your sleep.

He felt your walls tightening, excitement coursing through his veins as he thrusted his fingers faster into you, gloved hand soaked, and hand squeezing your breast. "Almost there, Dove," He almost whimpered out, cock twitching. Your hands moved downward, almost as if unconsciously trying to hide yourself from the stimulation.

Your eyes shot wide open and you let out a cry of pleasure as your orgasm came crashing down, coating Simeon's hand in your juices. His movements slowed, allowing you to ride out your orgasm.

Your blurry vision slowly began to re-focus, allowing you to see the angel before you. A sheepish smile appeared on his face as he pulled his hand away, pressing a finger to his tongue to get a taste of your cum. "Simeon?" You panted out softly.

Simeon's hand pushed his white pants and boxers down, freeing his hardened cock, pink tip oozing with precum. "I'm so sorry, my little Dove," He said softly, your eyes going wide as he spread your legs, cock pressing gently against your opening. "I wanted to wait... Ask you to go out with me, then after we got married, I'd take you in a more..." He paused, trying to search for the right adjective. "Romantic setting." Simeon's cock grinded gently against you. "You see, Dove—" You felt him push into you, and you gasped, hands immediately clamping over your mouth. His mouth fell open, letting out a soft groan as he felt your cunt suck him in. "You're just... So— Hnngh!— Tempting!" He slammed himself all the way inside of you, hips meeting yours as he bottomed out.

Tears fell from your eyes at the stretch and you felt his hands on your thighs, guiding them so that your legs would wrap around his waist. "You'll forgive me, right?" He murmured out softly, nuzzling his face into the valley between your breasts. "I'm only doing all of this because I love you." Simeon's eyes met yours and you could feel your body tremble. "S-Simeon, I-I wanted... To wait—" "Wait until when, Dove?!" He suddenly became more aggressive, face now inches away from yours, cock pushing against your cervix, making you whine. "Until one of those vile demons got to you? That isn't an option! You were going to make love to me on the night of our wedding, what difference does it make that I take you here?" He huffed out.

You'd never seen him so angry before, nor have you ever seen him act so possessive before. He pulled his hips back, only to shove them forward again. You moaned loudly, closing your eyes and allowing more tears to fall. "You should be grateful..." He muttered, closing his eyes to try and maintain some of his composure. The contradiction in his words hardly meant anything to your hazy mind. While you did take a moment to realize that he just apologized for waiting before scolding you for wanting the same, the way he started to pound into you made your brain turn to mush.

"That it was me who was here instead of some random demon. I don't know what I would've done if someone deflowered you before I got the chance to, they might've ended up like the others!"

You flinched at this statement, looking up at Simeon through teary eyes. "O-Others?" He scoffed, burying his face into the crook of your neck to leave dark hickies that couldn't be hidden. When you didn't get an answer, you debated on asking him again, but he interrupted your confusion with a slam right into the spot that made you see stars.

You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, feeling a knot begin to tighten in your stomach. "S-Simeon! G-Gonna c-cum soon!" You whined out, bucking your hips upward to get more friction between the two of you, hoping for further stimulation.

Simeon knitted his brows together as a thought came to mind. Perhaps if you were pregnant, everyone, including you, would know that you were his. Maybe if he got you attached to him in such a permanent manner, you'd never think about another man. Yes, that sounded absolutely divine. It sounded right.

"MC," He moaned out against your jawline, pressing a kiss to it before he moved upward so his lips were beside your ear. "I'm gonna cum inside you, okay?"

"W-What?!" You flinched, regaining consciousness almost immediately before almost being completely fucked out of it again. Simeon sighed softly against you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'm gonna make you— Ngh!— A mamaaa..." He dragged out the last syllable as a blush formed on his face, feeling his orgasm nearing as his pace quickened and his thrusts became more desperate and rough. The tip of his cock bullied your cervix, making you nearly scream in pleasure. "You'll be good for me, right? Y-You'll take all of my cum? Carry my child for me? You love me don't you?"

Your walls convulsed and you screamed as you came, juices coating his length. "Y-Yes," You whimpered out softly, being rewarded with the smile that you'd grown to love on him. "My Dove," He moaned out softly, burying himself deep inside of you and grunting as you felt him paint your insides white. You could feel him filling you up to the brim, womb full, pussy throbbing and drooling with his cum, even though he hadn't moved. There was just so much. You'd never felt this full before.

He slammed into you a few more times, trying to ride out the pleasure of his orgasm, as well as fuck his seed deep within you, before slowly pulling out. The sight of his cum oozing out of you made him blush, looking up at your panting, exhausted form.

Simeon smiled, caressing your tear-stained cheek with the hand that wasn't dirtied, pressing a warm and passionate kiss to your lips. He felt his heart skip a beat when you returned the favor. Reluctantly, though he had to breathe, he pulled away.

"I'll do everything I can to keep you safe and with me, Dove... Even if it means I have to resort to desperate measures,"

Holy fuck, that was a long ass train ride. I hope you liked it, anon, cause I know some of your horny asses did!

MASTERLIST

578 notes · View notes

gyu-effect · 1 year

Note

hi, congrats for 250 followers!!! i love all your works so far and couldn't wait to read more of your works. i also read your svt as love tropes and i AM DYING bc you wrote joshua as enemies-to-lovers (bc obviously joshua is my bias and the trope is my fav🥲). i guess this is very specific, but for the event, can i req joshua + enemies-to-lovers with the "who did this to you?"???? thanks!!

PAIRING || Joshua x Female Reader

GENRES || Fluff, Enemies To Lovers AU, A Bit Of Angst

WARNINGS || yn's dad being a typical asian parent (sigh), mention of getting hurt

WORD COUNT || 1.6k (i got carried away-)

A/N || Oh my god thank you so so much! i actually am not that great at writing e2l but i had great fun in writing that one so i'm so glad you liked it! thank you for requesting, i tried my best and i really hope you like it too!

TAGLIST || @romeosbreastmilkmilk @y00nzin0 @cecedrake2217 @candidupped [if you want to be added to my taglist send me an ask!]

[09:51]

“i heard your report card came two days ago.”

you stopped on your tracks, turning slowly to face your father who was sitting on the living room couch, reading the newspaper. you let out an awkward laughter but it did nothing to calm down your now racing heart.

“ah, it must have slipped out of my mind.” you said, praying you wouldn’t get into more trouble. “you know how busy i’ve been with cram school and extra classes-”

“go get it now.” his cold voice cut you off as he placed the newspaper down, giving you a look that you were so familiar with. you swallowed hard, mind racing to find some excuse but you just couldn't; the fear was so engraved in you that it felt like your entire body had just stopped responding to you.

“isn’t it- isn’t it too late? how about i show it to you tomorrow-”

“now. i want to see it now. or did you have some reason to hide it?” he stood up and walked up to you, and you tried moving back as far as you could, but your back hit the wall very soon.

“no- why would i-”

“or,” his voice dropped an octave as he bent to your eye level, causing you to flinch, “did you come second again and that hong boy come first?”

your silence seemed to be enough for your father.

he straightened up as he regarded you coldly. “you are so pathetic, don’t you have any shame? i spend millions behind you and you can’t even do the one thing you are supposed to! do you know how embarrassing it is to tell everyone that you, the always second rank holder, are my daughter?”

you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin as you balled your fist in anger. tears stung your eyes but no matter how much you clenched your teeth, your heart still seemed to ache from your father’s harsh words.

“fine!” you finally snapped. “why don’t you just disown me and adopt joshua as your child then?”

as soon as you had finished your sentence, you heard a loud slap and your knees hit the ground. your cheek stung from the intensity of the slap but before you could even take everything in, you felt your father yank you up by your hair.

you screamed as you tried to pull yourself away but that just earned another slap from your father, this time feeling a sting on your lips. finally breaking free from him, you ran out of your house onto the street, blindly running until you finally reached the park.

the park wasn’t actually a park. it was an abandoned playground with a few trees here and there that hadn’t been touched by the development of your posh neighbourhood. yet. you had discovered this place in your sixth grade, and seeing that no one ever came by, it soon became your escape spot for whenever your parents scolded you too much.

you sat down on one of the creaky swings, finally feeling the tears fall down your cheeks.

your lips stung, your cheeks hurt, your head was throbbing but mostly it was your heart. it was clenching painfully at the thought of how meaningless you were to your parents, no matter how hard you tried. it hurt from the amount of hatred that had piled up against your parents and mostly hong joshua.

hong joshua.

the stellar boy of the school. the secret crush of every single girl in your grade. the favourite boy of all the teachers that had taught you.

he was well mannered, sweet, handsome and smart.

so no matter how much your parents pitted you against him, it shouldn't have bothered you since he obviously deserved it, right?

but it seemed like he knew your parents did that, and that’s why every time he would win first he would always smirk at your direction as though trying to rile you up. that sweet boy facade disappeared everytime the two of you were alone or competing with each other.

he made sure to point out all your mistakes every time, never take your suggestions despite being in the same student body for so many years together and argue back for almost everything you said.

in other words, the two of you were sworn enemies and you hated him with your every living breath.

sometimes, you wished he would just disappear so that your life could become easier. everything was so easy for him, while you had to struggle and work hard for everything. even if it was just making your parents proud like his.

you sighed for the umpteenth time, once again blaming joshua for everything.

“well, well, who do we have here?”

you whipped in shock towards the direction of the oh so familiar voice, praying it wasn’t who you thought it was.

but like always, your prayers were never answered.

your eyes met hong joshua's teasing gleaming ones, and it took every bit of your willpower not to retort back.

"cat got your tongue, darling?"

you hated that nickname but this time, you just smiled at him, wincing a little at the sting on your lip.

immediately his smirk fell, eyes finally taking in your messy hair and the wound on your lips.

"who did this to you?"

if you had been in your right mind you would have heard the coldness and anger in his voice, but you weren't so instead you turned away from him, hoping he would just go away.

you heard his footsteps from behind you and within seconds you found the boy you hated the most in this world crouching in front of you. your eyes were now at level with his, and he looked concerned.

"y/n." he asked once again, gritting his teeth. "who did this to you?"

"can you just go away?" you whispered, closing your eyes as you leaned your head against the metal threads of the swing. "i don't need you to find another thing to pick on me.”

“pick on-” joshua shook his head. “wait here, i’ll be back in a minute.” saying that, he got up and ran from there. you muttered a ‘whatever’ but within a minute you heard his footsteps, along with his heavy breathing.

opening your eyes, you once again found joshua kneeling in front of you, this time dabbing a cotton bud onto an antiseptic cream. he raised his hand to apply it on your lip but you just turned your head away from him.

“hey,” he said so softly that you nearly turned back to look at him in shock. “i’m not going to hurt you, okay? but we need to take care of that so that it doesn’t leave a scar on those pretty lips of yours, okay?” he continued, still speaking softly to you as though he was afraid you would break if he spoke to you otherwise. the hong joshua you knew had the could speak this softly to you?

when you still didn’t turn to him, he sighed. then, you felt warmth prickle your hands as he took them in his, causing you to finally look at him.

“what are you doing-” you began but he cut you off.

“i’m sorry if you thought i was picking on you.” he said, his eyes filled with so much sincerity that your heart nearly skipped a beat. “i didn’t mean to hurt you, i swear. i just- i just thought you wouldn’t mind if i teased you a bit. it was just that…it was so fun bickering with you and you look so cute everytime you are riled up. i didn’t mean it in a bad way, i swear. if i had known how your parents were…”

his voice trailed off as you mulled his words in your head. was it really true that he had never meant it in a bad way?

the more you thought about it, the more you realised that he might be right. after all, he had never insulted you in front of others, not even if he had beaten you in yet another exam. he had just bickered with you and that was about it.

you wanted to ask why didn’t he try being more nicer to you then but instead you asked-

“you think i’m cute?”

even joshua seemed taken aback by your choice of question but after a second he broke into a laugh. his eyes pulled into the half moons you were so familiar with as he displayed his bunny teeth as he laughed. you always knew he was handsome but right now he looked cute, beautiful and handsome.

“is that what is bothering you?”

“i- no. i mean, yes.” you stuttered, all of a sudden unable to meet your ‘enemy’s’ eyes.

“yeah, i think you are cute. really cute and pretty. especially when you are riled up. or flustered like now.”

“i’m not flustered!”

he laughed once more and this time you couldn’t stop the sudden stuttering of your heart. was just joshua’s laugh enough to make you forget your hatred for him and like him?

no way.

“i’m still mad at you.” you muttered, as he gently patted down your hair. he looked at you apologetically.

“i’m sorry. i really am. i didn’t know i was hurting you. is there any way i can make it up to you?”

“well..” what could he even do to make it up to you? it wasn’t exactly his fault that he didn’t realise he was hurting you. should you just ask him to be your friend? hating one less person seemed to be a great idea to you.

“if you aren’t sure could i suggest something?”

“er, okay?” the cocky smile on his face made you suspicious of what he was going to say but decided to give it a try.

“do you want to go out with me on a date tomorrow?”

581 notes · View notes

etherealphosphor · 6 months

Text

Bluebell

⟡ Contains: Dottore x Gn!Reader, Sfw, Angst to set the scene, Fluff otherwise, Dottore has amnesia, Reader is married to Dottore

You and Dottore had always been the envy of Snezhnaya, your relationship being quite the popular topic among its citizens. Everyone in the Fatui, from Cicin Mages to the Harbingers themselves, knew about your marriage. It was impossible to be out of the loop, as gossip spread like wildfire in the headquarters. Even if one were to live under a rock, the way Dottore looked at you with pure and unmistakable adoration was a dead giveaway.

For approximately a year, things were peaceful. You spent every day by Dottore’s side, and every night in his embrace. Until one fateful day, when one of Dottore’s experiments failed, and awfully so. The explosion could even be heard from the offices on the upper levels. You also worked in the headquarters, and your heart lurched in fear when you heard the loud bang.

Running down the stairs leading towards his lab, you could feel the panic setting in. There was nothing you could do to help, as Dottore never let you into his lab in fear of something happening to you. Your eyes began tearing up as you saw the walls of his lab completely collapsed, and your blue-haired husband trapped under the rubble. In the past, Dottore had made it very clear to his assistants that, in case of an emergency, they were to hold you back. They honored his request, and you could only watch in horror as the medical staff rushed in to save him, struggling against the arms keeping you from your beloved husband.

In the aftermath of the explosion, Dottore was rushed to the nearby hospital. You sat anxiously in the waiting room, tears streaming down your face. Your heart was beating faster than ever before as you silently prayed to the Tsaritsa to spare his life. Eventually, after what felt like hours, you were given permission to visit Dottore.

When you walked into Dottore’s hospital room, he was asleep on the bed, his chest and the top of his head mostly bandaged up. It pained you to see your husband like that, and as you sat down next to him, he began to slowly open his eyes.

"Darling?" You asked tentatively before reaching out and stroking his cheek.

Dottore looked up at you, his red eyes filled with confusion. "Sorry, who are you?"

Your worst nightmare had come true.

The months following the incident had been difficult; however, you were relieved to find that Dottore’s affection for you hadn’t disappeared. The hospital staff had informed you that there was indeed a small chance for him to regain some—if not all—of his memories. That possibility was like the light at the end of the tunnel for you, and no matter how long it would take, you vowed to help Dottore remember your past together. You swore to stay by him in sickness and in health, after all.

One night, as you lay in bed together, Dottore turned over to face you. "Love?"

"Yes darling? What is it?" You asked, a little worried that something might be wrong.

"I’m sorry that I can’t remember anything right now; it must really hurt you. My memories—they’re all so hazy. But I do recall how I felt, and I want you to understand that my feelings haven’t changed a bit." Dottore said, a comforting look in his eyes.

You smiled at him. "Dottore, you’ve reminded me of that nearly every night since you got back from the hospital. Don’t worry; I know you still love me, and I’m very glad to have you in my life."

"I know I’ve told you many times, but I feel like I need to assure you, or else you may fret about it." Dottore spoke softly, reaching out to stroke your hair.

"Love, I won’t. What’s most important right now is that you get a good night’s sleep. Tell you what, I’ll take you to where we first met tomorrow morning; maybe it’ll help your memory a little."

Dottore smiled at your words and nodded. "That’d be great." He paused for a second before hesitantly asking, ".. may I hold you?"

Something about his strangely shy tone evoked an odd feeling in your chest. Even after all the years you spent together with him, he still found new ways to stir the butterflies in your stomach. Without even answering his question, you wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Dottore gently put a hand on the top of your head, calmly stroking your hair. The warmth of your husband’s skin and the rhythm of his heart made you slowly drift off to sleep. No matter how difficult things got, you’d always have him.

When you woke up in the morning, Dottore was still sleeping soundly next to you, a peaceful look on his face. Your eyes fell to the scars on his chest left by the accident, a constant reminder of the time you nearly lost him. Despite all of Dottore’s strength as the Second of the Fatui Harbingers, one mistake could have ended his life.

Your mind began to race at the possibilities of what could have happened if even one little factor had been changed. Would he not be lying next to you right now if he’d been even a foot closer to the explosion?

Unconsciously, you reached out to touch those rough patches on his skin, accidentally rousing him from his sleep. Your breathing was a little shallow as your brain spiraled. Despite just waking up, Dottore instantly recognized your distress and pulled you into his arms.

"Darling, can you breathe deeply for me? Hyperventilating will only make you feel worse." Dottore said softly as he stroked your back, trying to soothe your anxiety.

After about a minute, your breathing slowed down with much encouragement from Dottore. His gentle words and touch grounded you; he was here, not back in the accident. And he never would be, because things were okay now.

"I’m sorry for waking you, Love. I was just overthinking again; that’s all." You spoke quietly, with a tinge of guilt in your voice.

Picking up on it, Dottore began to reassure you. "It’s not your fault for being anxious, [Name]. What happened back then was very traumatic for you; it’d leave a lasting impact on anyone. So don’t apologize to me for anything; you don’t need to. Plus, I don’t need to sleep in any longer than I did; if you’re feeling that way again, please don’t hesitate to ask me for help, even if I’m asleep."

Dottore knew exactly what to say to calm your mind; he always had. Cuddling up next to him once more, you breathed in his scent as he brushed through your hair with his fingers.

"We should get ready soon, darling. I promised to take you to where we first met, after all."

"Don’t feel obligated to; if you’d prefer to stay at home today, that’s fine." Dottore said as he continued to run his fingers through your hair.

"I want to go as well, Dottore. My offer to take you still stands." You assured him as you began to get out of bed.

Once you two had gotten ready, you led Dottore out of the house. Due to losing his memories, Dottore was unfamiliar with the streets he once knew so well, so you had to show him the way.

After a short stroll through the main city of Snezhnaya, you stopped at a large building made from grey stone bricks of varying lengths and shades.

Reading the sign on the front of it, Dottore asked, "We met at the library?"

"Yeah, we did. It was by pure coincidence that I even talked to you in the first place." You replied with a soft smile on your face. It had been so long since that day, and oh, how things had changed.

Hand in hand, you brought Dottore into the library and up the stairs to the second floor. You led him over to a small reading corner surrounded by large windows, which contained a singular round wooden table with two plush chairs on either side. A strong sense of deja vu washed over Dottore as he walked closer to the room.

You motioned for him to sit down, then took your own place next to the table. You gazed fondly around the room for a brief moment, before resting your eyes on your husband, who sat in front of you.

"I was sitting in this very chair when we had our first conversation." You paused, thinking back on that day. "You know, I was scared of you at first."

"You were... scared of me? Why?" Dottore asked with a confused look on his face.

You chuckled. "Darling, have you forgotten you’re ranked second out of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? Of course I was terrified."

"[Name], I’ve been reminded of what my title entails, but nothing of the reputation it holds." Dottore explained. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Let’s just say... You were a very intimidating man back then. Everyone who didn’t know you properly fled in terror when they saw you."

"Really? Have people changed how they view me since the accident?"

"Not exactly; you’ve kept your status and title, after all. That’s what people are afraid of."

Dottore thought that over for a minute, then hesitantly asked, "Love, was I wrong to you in the past?"

Surprised by his words, you responded, "Archons no, what would make you think that?"

"You kept saying how frightening I was back then—and how I apparently still am. I can’t help but worry that I did something awful to you."

You reached out to gently stroke Dottore’s cheek, assuring him. "Oh, darling, I’m sorry I didn’t make it more clear. I don’t think you’re any of those things. Sure, back when we first met, I was scared by your title like everyone else. But as we got acquainted, I saw a different side of you, one which was nothing like the man the public viewed you as."

"I’m glad." Dottore paused, before asking, "Could you possibly tell me about the day we met, since we’re here?"

"Of course, I’d be happy to." You continued, "It was a particularly gloomy day, and a heavy blanket of snow covered the ground—the amount being more than it usually was. Despite all of that, I couldn’t stand being inside; I instead decided to go out into the storm. Many of the buildings and stores in the city were closed, but the library wasn’t."

"Oh dear, I hope you didn’t freeze to death; Snezhnaya is already a harsh place as it is." Dottore said softly.

"You worry too much, my love. I was perfectly fine." You replied, assuring him.

"Alright, I’m simply making sure. Isn’t that what a husband ought to do?"

"Darling, that happened six years ago." You chuckled, but you could feel your heart fluttering at his concern.

"Well, I’m still going to express my worry regardless of how much time has passed, and that’s final." Dottore smiled at you, before saying, "anyway, please go on. I’d love to hear the rest of the story."

That smile of his only made your heart beat faster. "As I said, the library wasn’t closed, so I decided to head over to warm up inside. After all, I went there a lot back then to relax. Coincidentally, when I climbed up the stairs, you were there, sitting in my usual spot.

"When I saw the Second Harbinger himself seated in that chair, I really did consider turning around and walking all the way back to my apartment through the deep snow. However, hearing my footsteps, you looked up from your book towards me. Once you’d sensed my presence, I figured there was no turning back. After all, it would’ve been highly disrespectful to run the opposite way when you looked at me.

"So, despite my shaking legs, I made my way over and sat down across from you. Despite having your mask on, I knew you were looking directly at me. Though terrified, I attempted to make small talk to fill the silence. That small talk turned into a full conversation, and then another, and another; we barely realized how late it was, and we were only alerted to the time when it had gotten quite dark outside. You gently took my hand in yours and walked me home to make sure I was safe, only bidding me farewell when I was at my door."

Dottore silently listened to your story, smiling softly as you finished telling it. "I wish I could remember that day; it sounded like it was a truly lovely one."

Noticing the slight falter in Dottore’s smile as he said that, you gave him a quick kiss. "It’s okay, darling. Don’t fret; we’ll make many more beautiful memories together in the future. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you."

Without another word, Dottore stood up and pulled you into his arms, fully picking you up off the ground.

"I—wha—what are you doing?" You stuttered, quite flustered as well as a little confused.

"Taking you home, like I did back then." He simply said.

"Darling, you held my hand to lead me back to my apartment. You didn’t carry me!" You replied, chuckling.

Dottore continued walking, his grip on you firm yet comfortable. "Hm, well, I prefer it this way. So I will have it this way."

You sighed, nuzzling closer to him. "You’ve always been like this, and I love you for it."

That night, you couldn’t bear to leave Dottore’s embrace for even a second. Comforted by his scent and the warmth of his skin, you drifted off peacefully. For a moment, it was easy to forget that the accident had ever happened. He still held you the exact same way as he used to, after all. Some things truly never change.

When Dottore woke up the next morning, he noticed that you weren’t cuddled up next to him as you usually were. "[Name]..? Where—"

"I’m right here, darling. Don’t worry." Just then, you walked into the room, holding a mug in both hands.

Dottore looked at you as you sat down on the bed next to him, his tone still a little sleepy. "What’s in the mug?"

"It’s coffee; you’ll like it. I swear." You said, offering it to him.

Dottore hesitated, unsure. "I don’t want to take something you made for yourself."

"No, no. Darling, I made it for you." You chuckled, smiling at him.

"You did?" Dottore looked a little surprised. "You’re too sweet, darling. Are you suggesting I drink it because I liked it back then?" Dottore took the cup, staring at its contents.

"You’re right, my love. It used to be your favorite."

The drink was as dark as the abyss, and smelled quite strongly. Dottore put the mug to his lips, and tentatively took a sip. Instantly, his eyes lit up, and he drank nearly half the cup.

Dottore’s expression made your heart skip a beat. He looked so happy to be experiencing his drink of choice for the first time again.

Dottore then downed the rest of the cup, and looked up at you with a sparkle in his deep red eyes. "Darling, could you make me another? Or, even better, teach me how to make such a lovely drink?"

"Love, if I teach you, you’ll make yourself crazy. Too much caffeine can give you anxiety. However, I'm sure another cup won’t hurt you." You smiled at him, and then walked out of the room to brew him another drink.

Day after day, Dottore woke up with you in his arms, and each morning, you made him coffee for him to have with breakfast. Life had been very lovely, but there had been little to no progress in recovering any of Dottore’s memories.

Even so, you refused to give up.

One evening, when Dottore had gotten back from work, you seemed quite eager to show him something.

"Darling, quick, follow me!" You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him upstairs.

Although Dottore was a little dazed at your enthusiasm, he followed you to the second floor of the house. "What is it, my love? Do you have something to show me?"

You dragged him over to a window in the bedroom and began to unlock it. Once you were done, you pushed it open and began to climb out onto the roof, leading Dottore along with you.

"[Name], are you sure this is safe? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt." Dottore said as he carefully stepped out, holding onto you tightly.

"Actually, coming up here was your idea in the first place. Back then, at least." You replied, sitting down on the roof, dangling your legs over the edge.

Dottore sat down next to you. "Even so, you need to be careful, darling."

Ignoring his words, you nudged him and pointed up at the sky. "Look."

As the sun began to set, the clouds were dusted with a beautiful pink color, painting a stunning picture. Dottore was not particularly intrigued by beautiful landscapes, but even he was enamored by such a scene. Especially if his beloved was watching it with him.

While Dottore was gazing at the sky, you pulled a small bunch of bluebell flowers out of a pocket in your coat, and extended your arm to offer the gift to him.

Noticing the sweet smell, he looked down and saw the pretty blue blossoms in your hand.

"..Are these for me..?" Dottore spoke, a blush rising in his cheeks.

You nodded, smiling gently. "They are. Back then, you loved to give me bluebells on any occasion you could."

Dottore closed his eyes and put the flowers to his nose, breathing in the scent. Suddenly, his eyes shot open, and he turned to face you. "Darling? Did I.. did I ask you to marry me up here?"

You looked at him in surprise. "Y—you remember?"

Dottore’s deep red eyes were shining with happy tears. "I do! I remember!"

Dottore wrapped his arms around you, and kissed you deeply. Draping your arms around his neck, you reciprocated his passion, letting yourself melt into his embrace.

Unexpectedly, Dottore pinned you down, and pushed your head to one side. Softly, he began to bite your neck all over, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Oh Archons, he knew how to drive you crazy.

"Darling, didn’t you say to be careful? Aren’t you afraid we might fall?" You teased, a little out of breath.

Pausing for a moment, Dottore replied, "I would never allow you to fall."

Dottore moved his face away from your neck, instead pressing his lips to yours once more. He tilted your chin up as he fervently kissed you over and over, pouring all his love into the act.

The sun had long ago set when you two finally climbed back through the window.

In bed, Dottore pulled you into his arms, and whispered in your ear, "Sweet dreams, my lovely Bluebell."

"Found a new petname for me, huh?"

"Indeed, it suits you. You’re sweet-smelling, pretty, and you help me get my memories back." Dottore said softly.

You chuckled. "Where in the world did you ever learn to be this charming?"

Yet again, you spent the rest of the night cuddled up next to him, sleeping soundly. His body next to yours was something you were forever grateful for, and you hoped you’d never have to sleep alone again, like you did when he was being treated all those months ago.

You slept, knowing there was hope. Maybe, one day in the future, Dottore would truly recall all those years you spent together. But for now, one memory is enough.

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mishi-with-jazz · 28 days

Text

Vibrations: Chapter 1

Warnings: explicit content,mentions of sexual interactions, possibly even a lil added too. 13+

You were stimulating.Alot.The things is you were coming from the library yesterday (quite late, surprisingly alone, since you were usually accompanied by atleast one of your boyfriends) and that is when you were hit by a spell, you werent sure what since you hadn't felt anything at least till then.

When you woke up today you felt it.Vibration.Your underwear quite wet. You thought it was just you or some sorta dream, it was pretty normal but you were yet to find out how bad it was gonna get.

As soon as you stood up, you felt like you were about to collapse. How many orgasams had you done?

Thats when you saw a note on the table.

"Hey, little lady, feeling wet, eh?? You were hit by a spell yesterday right?? I will give you details, but meet me at the river before breakfast, also none of your boyfriends shall know..ur vibrations are at 3 rn, but remember 7 is always an option."

You gulped. Who could this be? You didn't really have any enemies at hogwarts. You considered telling the boys but then again someone who could set this kinda of a high level spell on you and sneakers in a letter in your dorm, must be pretty smart. You would have to deal with this on your own.

You sat on the bed for a little more while, slowly dragged yourself to the bathroom and got changed.

As you head for the lake, praying you wouldn't find any of the boys, you heard a very familiar voice.

Y/n, love where are you going? The halls that way, sweets! The raven haired boy exhilarated.

Oh um, remus, morning, actually I umm had some stuff to get, I will catch up with you guys later. You replied

But-

U quickly cut him off, by kissing him and ran away.

You reached the lake a few minuted later.

Hello? Anybody here? You called out.Thats when you heard a whistle, it came from the area behind you, when you looked back you gasped. You were beyond shocked.It shouldn't have been very surprising. The person standing in front of you was your boyfriends worst enemy, he was the guy who even Remus loved pranking.

You saw Woakes lestrange, brother of Bellatrix lestrange.

I am sorry this is too short, but hopefully if I get a positive response I will add longer chapters.

*DM ME TO BE ADDED IN TAGLIST*

TAGLIST:

#marauders #marauders era #james potter #sirius black #harry potter #the marauders #marauders angst #harry potter marauders #poly marauders x reader #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #polyamory #poly!marauders angst #poly marauders #polyamourous

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

Text

CW: perv!virgin!eddie/camboy!steve, virginity kink, degradation/humiliation, eddie’s lowkey a creep (again), dirty talk, steve’s dick is tiny lol, religious imagery in a sexual context (brief)

thinking about virgin!loser!simp! eddie who gets zero action and has never been touched by anyone else’s hands but his own.

thinking about him rushing home from work each night to make it on time for steve’s camboy livestream.

he speeds, runs a red light or two. doesn’t pause to consider the consequences bc who the fuck cares? his cock strains against the zipper of his jeans bc he only has one thing on his mind and it’s certainly not avoiding run ins with the law.

“can’t wait to fuck you, pretty boy,” he whimpers as he turns left.

he doesn’t know the object of his affection’s real name, of course. only his username which is @prettyboy86. these days, eddie only ever cums with that name on his lips.

fuck, he’s sick in the head.

eddie’s getting more pathetic and whiny by the minute. he makes tiny little thrusts against the inner seam of his jeans to try to find some form of friction. though he has no intention of getting off before he watches steve’s show.

the zipper makes it painful and pinches the head of his weepy dick but it’s better than nothing. somehow he keeps his hands on the wheel and doesn’t get in a multi-car pile-up. somehow.

he’s so desperately in love with this boy he’s never even met, this boy who has no idea that eddie munson exists.

and to an extent, that’s part of the allure. pretty boy’s powerful. he commands an audience of thousands. people from all over the world pay $25/month just to eye a piece of him.

he never shows his face, but sometimes he’ll suck on a dildo and his lips will be visible in the shot. they’re usually slicked with sparkly lipgloss and look like they’d taste like candy.

eddie knows he must be beautiful though if the rest of his body is any indication. he’s an angel, he’s a saint. eddie worships him, prays to him with a level of devotion he’s never been able to find in organized religion.

once in the driveway of his uncle’s place, eddie throws his van in park, grabs the keys, and makes a mad dash for his bedroom. locks the door behind him as is tradition, cracks open a PBR, and logs onto his laptop.

pretty boy’s site is bookmarked, favorited, and left open in a tab from last night.

eddie navigates to the livestream waiting room and moments later, steve settles onto his haunches onscreen.

a flood of messages from similar admirers clogs up the chat quickly as eddie starts in on his own barrage of thirsty compliments:

@ethebanished: looking so cute tonight, pretty boy. i’d do anything to have your cock in my mouth.

there’s no response. steve’s not even looking at the camera or the screen. he’s adjusting something on his lower half that eddie can’t see.

maybe a cock ring or vibrating toy??

eddie’s bought him so many toys from his personalized wishlist and the one time steve took the clear glittery dildo on camera, he came in his pants instantly. didn’t even have time to stroke his cock once.

it felt intimate. it felt like steve was sending him a message, confessing his mutual love.

eddie sends a few more messages while steve holds up a finger to the audience to let them know he needs a second.

he types rapidly, without though, follows his depraved intentions and lets them run wild into the ether.

@ethebanished: i’ve been watching you since the beginning. i can’t cum to anyone else’s videos. did you know that?? you’re so special, pretty boy. no one else takes cock like you. i’d treat you so well. i’d never let you go, i swear. don’t waste time on the other boys.

@ethebanished: when i save up enough money, i’m gonna buy a custom video from you. i’m gonna make you say my name while you fuck yourself on the dildo i bought you. it’s the clear one with glitter. how does that sound?? would you like that baby?? like some dirty stranger making you cum for him?? i’m saving my virginity for you. waiting for you every day. one day we’ll fuck and you’ll thank me.

@ethebanished: i had to jack off in the storage room at work this morning. almost got caught by my manager but it was worth it. woke up so horny from a wet dream about you. you’re perfect. i have to fuck you. have to.

steve smiles. professionally whitened teeth blinding the camera. eddie convinces himself easily that it’s meant for him despite the thousands of other commenters.

he and steve have something special. sure, they’ve never directly interacted, but if they do—when they do—steve won’t be able to resist eddie’s charms.

“sorry for the delay, everyone. we had a few technical difficulties but thanks to my friend, tommy, we should be all set.”

tommy is the bane of eddie’s existence. public enemy #1. steve’s always running his mouth about “owing credit to tommy” and how “the show wouldn’t be half of what it is without tommy’s support.”

apparently, he’s steve’s camera man, editor, and resident tech guy. but eddie’s worst nightmare is steve ever including tommy in a video or stream.

eddie fantasizes—often—about replacing tommy, himself. he’s got a bunch of editing experience, owns all the fancy software, and knows how to operate a camera. plus, he’d do it for free. he’d do it just to be in the same atmosphere as steve for a fraction of a second.

fuck, his dick is leaking all over his black denim. just another pair of jeans to toss out bc pretty boy’s caused him to stain them.

if pretty boy were here, in person, eddie would have lick them clean to prove his devotion.

his attention snaps back to the screen as steve starts talking again.

“i’ve been wanting to challenge myself, lately to get a bit more up close and personal with my fans,” steve sticks his tongue out slowly and flicks it in the direction of the camera, “y’know to show my appreciation. so if it’s okay with you, i’m going to try something new today.”

eddie’s curiosity sparks. warmth spreads through his thighs, abdomen, and chest.

steve’s speaking directly to him (in his mind) and with all those pretty moles on display, eddie’s free hand wanders to tease his own pierced nipples.

he tugs at them and swirls the buds with gentle fingers. his hips buck in response. he’s always been sensitive. knows he’d cum so easily, so constantly, if pretty boy touched him.

“so one of you sweet angels sent me this adorable teddy bear,” steve nibbles on the ears of the pink plushie and eddie’s instantly jealous of whoever sent it to him, “i love how soft and cute he is, don’t you? his fur just feels perfect on my skin.”

steve lightly grazes the fluff of the bear over his inner thighs as he backs up on the mattress to display his full body for the camera. glossed lips in view. eddie gasps sharply and bites down on his knuckles to muffle the sound. he doesn’t need his uncle to know what a fucking freak he is.

“ohhh. see, that’s nice,” steve’s naked except for—and this absolutely annihilates eddie on the spot—a delicate pink ribbon that he’s tied around the base of his wet cock and a pair of thigh-high white socks.

flesh spills over the tight band of the fabric and eddie yearns to feel the squeeze of those perfect muscles around his head.

“here’s how this is going to work—i’m going to fuck my plushie like a pillow while reading comments aloud from you guys. whoever’s comment makes me cum will get a free five-minute video call with me tomorrow night before the regular livestream begins. there’s only going to be one lucky winner so do your worst, angels,” steve giggle to himself and tightens the bow on his dick, “let the games begin.”

“fuck,” eddie murmurs as he realizes how high the stakes are, “fuck. i have to win.”

the chat ramps up with lust and thrill as the audience observes steve taking the medium-sized plushie to the center of his bed. he fondles his balls, waves at the camera, and straddles the pink bear. his cock twitches in the confines of his ribbon and eddie wonders if it’s real silk. what it might feel like.

“bet you can’t wait to see my little cunt squirt on live, can you? poor teddy isn’t going to knows what’s hit him,” steve strokes the cheek of the bear apologetically and begins slowly rutting, “let’s see if he can handle me.”

it’s important to mention that pretty boy’s cock is small and that this appeals to eddie like nothing else.

eddie’s not huge, himself, but in terms of girth and length—he’s slightly above average. on the other hand, pretty boy’s dick is about three and a half inches hard. his balls are tucked right up against his body and he’s always well groomed. he’s muscular. clearly works out. has toned abs, large biceps (much larger than eddie’s), toned thighs and calves, and his ass is round like a summer peach.

eddie thinks it would taste even better on his tongue.

steve’s a seasoned professional which means he knows damn well how to put on a show. he arches his back expertly, tugs at the long brown tendrils of hair that dip towards his collarbones, and moans wantonly.

“okay—@yourgayestfantasy765 says, ‘pretty boy, you’re so fucking hot,’” steve smirks, fucks his teddy slow and precise, takes his time, “that’s so sweet. thank you!”

his words are kind, but his tone is bored and bone dry. the fact is he reads hundreds of comments like this all the time. it’s nothing new, doesn’t catch him off guard. his hips roll into the plushie’s tummy without stuttering.

it’s hard to concentrate, but eddie’s determined to stand out. racks his brain for something interesting to comment. something that will catch pretty boy’s attention.

he has to be the one to make steve cum. he has to win that five-minute video call. it would change his life to have that chance conversation with the love of his life. the only person he’s ever really wanted.

maybe he’d finally get out of bumfuck, indiana. maybe he’d finally lose his virginity and film videos with pretty boy all the time once he got some tangible experience under his—currently—un-notched belt.

eddie spies the signature tramp stamp—a row of three butterflies—between the dimples above the swell of his ass. he’s spent many long showers with his cock in his hands as he imagines sinking his teeth into that exact spot.

steve rambles off a few more copycat, lack luster comments as eddie types. he theatrically yawns midway through one to show his disinterest. the bear looks equally unimpressed below him.

“aw. you think i have a pretty cock? thank you so much, @daddydicklvr!” he blows a kiss, “but i think you can do better than that.”

eddie’s nervous. he wants this so badly. his palms are clammy. there’s chip crumbs littering the keys of his computer and it occurs to him that he should probably clean up the place when pretty boy inevitably comes over for a date.

he presses send.

“hmm—oh i recognize this username! you’ve been a longtime subscriber, haven’t you ethebanished? let’s read your comment,” pretty boy smiles genuinely and slows his movements to read, licking over his lips carefully, “‘this is going to sound crazy but sometimes i think i’m actually falling in love with you even though i’ve never met you. you’re amazing.’”

the rest of the audience immediatley thumbs down eddie’s message. the replies are even worse:

@kissmyaxx7: fuck off the stream, perv!

@nottaken_: guy thinks he really has a chance lmfao. pretty boy doesn’t date fans. you must be new here.

@titsandtats: smells desperate af in here…

@yoyostar6000: are u even trying to make him cum?

he cringes inwardly, worries he’s royally fucked up his chances, and hovers over the ‘x’ on the tab to click off.

but as he moves the mouse, pretty boy moans high in his throat and eddie finds him shivering with pleasure. his own cock jumps at the sight and suddenly he’s back in action, stroking himself from root to tip as he waits.

“in love with me, huh? i can work with that. tell me more, @ethebanished, i’m listening.”

steve’s a fucking temptress, sucks on his fingers as his thighs start to shake from effort. he’s sloppy with it—shows off his missing gag reflex and doesn’t clean up the spit the dribbles down his chest.

eddie can’t look away. doesn’t want to. his body is on fire with want and he types furiously one-handed:

@ethebanished: idk…it’s everything about u. ur smile, ur voice, ur cute little cock, ur attitude. i just feel like we’d get along great.

other audience members try to compete for steve’s attention, but he ignores them. lets their comments disappear into the chat as he reads eddie’s aloud.

“oh i’m sure you say that to all the girls and boys, cutie. there’s probably a line at your door right now,” steve’s dick is milky at the tip and he’s pressing it between his tummy and the bear. ends of the ribbon peeking out.

eddie sucks in a breath. pulls hard on each nipple for….confidence?? he can’t believe he’s about to admit this to the hottest guy he’s ever seen.

send.

@ethebanished: not quite. i’m a virgin. never had sex before let alone a boyfriend :/

pretty boy’s face—or, what eddie can see of it—lights up at that. his grin widens, reaching around to toy with his rim while he thrusts faster.

“holy shit. i gotta admit that’s hot—ah.”

eddie responds quickly:

@ethebanished: thx. no one else seems to think so. i’m kinda a loser but i promise i’d be so good to you. i’d do whatever you asked of me. idc. only have eyes for you.

steve’s little cock rabbits forwards. he pins the teddy with one hand and edges one finger into his ass with the other.

“fuck. i wish this was your cock, @ethebanished. my fingers just won’t do. i bet you’d be all messy your first time. probably cum inside me before you’d even gotten two inches in,” he whines—going deeper into the fantasy, “i’m mean, though, baby. i’d trap you inside me. i’d ride you until you begged me to stop, honey and then i’d suck you dry. how’s that sound, perv? you wanna stretch my cute cunt on your cock? i’ll teach you how to be a good boy with my pussy.”

pretty boy sticks a second finger in his ass and his balls smush against the fuzzy leg of the teddy as he grinds. his hips move in tight clockwise circles. humping the plushie with primal desire.

what eddie would do to have him rut on his face in the exact same way—

eddie’s getting close. he’s thumbing his cockhead roughly and biting down hard on the hem of his shirt. it’s almost painful to be this turned on. if he doesn’t cum soon he might just pass out or implode.

he sends one final message before he spills onto his hand and keyboard:

@ethebanished: so you gonna make me your bitch or what??

“@ethebanished says—oh fuck my pussy’s so wet, i’m not gonna last—he says—ah—oh my god,” steve shakes, groans like he’s been mortally wounded, and shoots cum all over the body of the pink plushie, “fuck yes—yes—be my bitch. gonna fucking ruin you, sweetie.”

steve humps himself through the rest of his orgasm and slowly withdraws his fingers. the little silk ribbon is somehow still attached at the base of his cock but it’s drenched. he unties it and licks his own release from the soft pink fabric.

eddie’s brain is fried. he’s still horny. he’ll likely jack of at least twice more before bed to prerecorded videos of pretty boy but he’s content.

he won.

he has a chance.

pretty boy smiles into the camera, kisses the lens with pink gloss as is his trademarked move, and squeezes the soggy teddy to his chest.

“alright that’s all i’ve got in me for tonight. but congrats to my horny little virgin @ethebanished. teddy and i look forward to meeting you on our call tomorrow! i’ll dm you the link. everyone else, good luck next time and have a slutty saturday! mwah.”

the livestream ends, eddie can hardly breathe, and his uncle knocks on the door.

“eddie, dinner’s ready! i made lasagna!”

instinctively he covers up his body.

“be out in a second! i’m—i’m working on a song!” he yells back and then pulls up a pre-downloaded video of pretty boy to prepare for his big day tomorrow.

THE END.

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1, @disastardly, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @the-redthread, @asbealthgn, @bestofbucky, @shrimply-a-menace, @vampireinthesun, @carlyv, @lordrrascal , @jjoesjonas , @malachitedevil , @anxiouseds, @feraleddiekinninghours, @gay-little-bitch, @jhrc666, @pinkdaisies98, @mcneen, @perseus-notjackson, @eiddets, @corroded-coffin-groupie, @three-possums-playing-human, @stevesbipanic, @plutoshelm, @arkenstoned, @indiearr, @they-reap-what-we-sow, @gleek4twd

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