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jyoongim · 2 months

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ANON ASKED: realder is a shy doe that’s like 5ft. She pretty much avoids Alastor like her life depends on it, because he makes her uncomfortable, and of course he knows he does. She goes into heat, but doesn’t find a partner. She just gets very tired and just goes into hibernation. Alastor find that very interesting to say the least. After staying at the hotel for so long, their heats sync and its a mess for him and she isn’t aware of it.

Degrading, voice kink, size kink, and breeding kink. Ear and tail pulling??? Fem! Reader receiving

So i think i missed a few marks and then it spiraled but i did my best to fulfill your request as best my ability!!!!

@animeloveruwu1234

As the weather got colder, you started to rarely be seen around the hotel. Your heat was rolling around and the urge to nest was nagging you.

You sighed, rolling out of bed and heading down for breakfast.

You were greeted with the scent of warm deliciousness. You pile your plate full of food, opting for more sweets and meats to the surprise of the other residents.

“ Christ. Slow down Toots, you’re gonna choke.” Angel laughed as you munched happily on a avocado toast sausage bacon mix.

You giggled “Its winter Angel, i have to pack on some weight. I tell you every year” Your ears perked in alert when static ran up your body. Your ears drooped when Alastor entered the kitchen. “Why what a fine hellish day it is!”

He hummed as he waltzed past you, you nearly choked on your food when he leaned over your shoulder, looking at your plate “Didn’t take you for the cannibalism type doe” grinning as you looked away, huffing ”its cooked” as he stole a piece of ham.

“Does typically pick up weight in the winter. They have to fill out in order to provide for fawns. They make for excellent pickings during hunting season” Alastor said as he buttered his toast, eyes on you as you squirmed slightly.

Angel and Charlie gawked “You’re gonna have a baby?!”

Your eyes widened “What!? No! Its just a deer thing. No fawns anytime soon” you blushed. Shaking your head you stood from the table, excusing yourself.

You weren’t necessarily afraid of Alastor, you had been around him long enough to get use to tolerate him, but the stag still made you uncomfortable, even after all this time around him. He reeked of dominance and power and your much softer nature did not mesh well with his intimidating one.You usually only spoke a few words to him, always excusing yourself to get away from him.

Like now, the comment about deer season had your skittish nature taking over, not liking the idea of potentially being a target.

Alastor chuckled as you walked by him. Your cute fluffy tail twitching, begging to be tugged on Alastor blinked at the intrusive thought.

That was new. He shook it off as just a sadistic moment.

————————————————————————————-

You curled in your pile of blankets as your heat raked through you.

Over the last few days, Charlie was so kind to leave you food and water so you didn’t have to go to the kitchen.

But you were itching for fresh air. Stretching your legs would do you some good.

Maybe you would find a partner to mate with on your outing.

You took a deep breath of fresh air as you exited the hotel, sighing happily. You bobbed around the city, nose sniffing out any potential males.

After a while your body started to heat up and you were going tired. You weren’t successful as most demon you met were either too eager to keep you tied up or not interested.

oh well.

As you approached the hotel a faint musky scent had your senses in a frenzy. You subconsciously followed the faint scent and ended up in the kitchen. No one was in there, but a tray of food was perched on the table, probably for you.

The last few weeks you were eating way more to keep up the energy that was burning through you.

You stuffed your mouth as you sniffed again, sighing deeply as the scent seemed to fog your head.

You had your fill and went to retreat to your bedroom, when you bumped into a solid chest.

Your ears perked at the sound of a faint growl and static.

”Careful doe” a deep voice purred.

Alastor.

You took a step back, ears furrowing back “Oh! I’m sorry Al”you looked up at him.

The tall red demon smiled down at you, but something seemed off.

His smile looked strained, and his ears were flickering about, eyes narrowed. He looked slightly flustered.

Your instincts had you look over him, to see if you could find the sense of his discomfort.

You hand reached out to press against his forehead, his skin was clammy.

Alastor didn’t flinch from your touch or slap your hand away, instead his head leaned into your hand, making your head tilt in question.

”Al? Do you feel alright?” Your eyes filled with worry. Alastor hummed, a sharp claw clasping your chin as he chuckled “Oh its nothing I cant handle dear.” You nodded, taking his word and made your way back to your room.

You curled in your nest as you thought about how strangely the demon was acting. But maybe it really was nothing.

————————————————————————————-

Alastor had smelled the most delicious scent waft across his nose. It smelled familiar but it was just too sweet to pinpoint who it belonged to. So he followed it.

The scent led him to the kitchen where he found you.

The little doe was having her filling, consuming some food, stuffing her soft cheeks with whatever was on the tray.

You looked plumper. Softer. For as long as he had known you, your heats were interesting to witness.

You tended to eat more, your usual slim figure filling out to accommodate the energy you burned. You often hid away when you were in heat. Something that Alastor found interesting.

Most does sought out partners to satisfy them, but not you.

He had overheard you how most of the times you did go seeking partners but no one tickled your fancy enough.

Something about that made his chest tingle.

No one would be able to satisfy you like he could his instincts screamed.

With another deer around, your heats triggered his ruts.

He had never interacted with you while in a rut, so when you bumped into him, he wasn’t ready for the consequences.

You let out a cute little squeak when you collided with his chest, ears perked as you registered the static he let off.

He felt his cock stir in his pants as he breathed in your scent.

Your heat must have been flaring as he could taste how your cunt smelled.

His ears furrowed against his head, the only indicator that something was wrong. He kept up his composure as you nervously apologized. But as he too was in rut, he was sure he was showing some signs, as you asked if he was ok.

He tensed up as he felt your hand on his cheek, but leaned into your touch.

Your soft voice laced in concern as you looked over him, checking to make sure he wasn’t ill.

Oh what a naive doe.

It was taking every bit of control he had to not take you against the kitchen table.

how would you look as he took you?

Would you beg him to make a mess of you?

Would you let him breed you to the point your cunt dripped with his cum?

He let out a low growl once you left the kitchen, turning his head to watch your full ass sway as your tail twitched about.

———————————————————————————

A knock at your door had you stirring awake from the comfort of your makeshift nest.

You were much too tired and had no desire to answer whoever was on the other side of the door. Your heat was at a all time high and the stickiness between your thighs, a result of your abusing your poor clit for relief. If it was Charlie, then she would just leave food at your door. Your eyes started to drift close, the sweet call of sleep sounding so appealing.

Your ears twitched at the knock again, a soft growl escaping your throat.

Your tired brain did not catch up with your nose as you swung open the door, tired eyes widening as you are face to chest? With Alastor.

You keened your neck to look up at him; head tilting as the red demon peered down at you with black blown out eyes.

”Al?”you asked confused, rubbing at your eyes sleepily.

”Apologies my dear, did I wake you?” He asked, head tilted, voice feign concern, his red ears erect and honed in on your soft panting, eyes narrowing at he took in the slight coat of sweat on your skin and how disoriented you seemed.

You nodded wordlessly, now highly aware that you, a doe were in full heat, evidence of that clinging to your thighs, and a stag was at your door.

Your heart sounded in your ears as your eyes raked over Alastor, accessing him.

Taking mental notes of mating potential instinctively.

“I thought you were Charlie…she usually leaves me food”

He hummed, a clawed hand coming up to your face to grip your chin. You blinked. Body buzzing.

Alastor’s instinct were screaming to push you back into your room and claim you in your nest, and satisfy the burn in his body.

Your scent had basically coated the hotel in its sweet smell. The scent making his cock twitch and antlers itch.

And the scent of your cunt had his mouth watering.

And he will have his fill.

”Your heat must take a lot out of you dear” his hands reached to soothe your tense shoulders, fingertips massaging the flesh. You stayed still as his hands roamed your body, softly pawing at the curves you gained from your heat.

His lips nipped at your soft ear, purring into it “I could provide assistance if you like?”

Your tail wagged as you gulped “A-Assistance?” You asked.

From your time around the red demon, you have never known him to willingly help people. Alastor maintained a sense of control in every situation, twisting and bending the rules to be in his favor.

A doe in heat should be easy to manipulate.

”Yeeeessss anything you want my dear! Think of it as ‘I scratch your back so you can scratch mine’ type of deal hmmm?” He chuckled darkly, slowly backing you into your room.

————————————————————————————-

Soft moans filled the room, accompanied by the hum of static as Alastor sucked at your clit.

You were sprawled out on your back in your nest, knees on either side of Alastor’s head as he lavished your clit with his tongue.

You panted as his tongue dipped into heat, thighs shuddering as it curled and lapped at your juices.

”H-Hah!! Ah! Ah! A-Al!” You whined, toes curling when he sucked the sore bud into his mouth. You tugged at the big antlers that separated your legs.

He had already made you cum on his fingers twice; cooing into your neck as you cried, cunt clenching around the digits like a vice.

Alastor grunted lowly, nipping at your clit with sharp teeth before sucking it back into his mouth. A finger dipped to fill you as he flicked your clit. Your gummy walls squeezing him, contracting at the intrusion but welcoming him into its depths.

He cooed around into your cunt, eyes looking up at you.

Your face was flushed and slick with sweat. Hands at your breasts, pulling and massaging your perky nipples.

Pouty lips parted as your moans tore from your throat.

”oooh c’mon doll, one more. You’ve been doing so good.”

Your body felt like it was burning. Each orgasm fogging your head with pure desire to be sated properly.

Your hips followed the rhythm of his tongue, using the hold on his antlers to ride his face.

Alastor let you be. Happily curling his finger inside you as he lapped up your essence.

Your back arched as a third orgasm ripped through you, teeth clenching as your hips twitched in overstimulation, but riding it out to make the sensation last.

You sighed as you went limp, eyes hazily looking up at the ceiling, waiting to fall back to earth.

But you didn’t have the time to tuck your legs back in and roll over to sleep, when Alastor adjusted himself onto his knees and pulled you flush to his hips.

A surprised “Ah!” Escaped your lips as your cunt was filled to the brim.

With cock.

Alastor growled, hissing as finally your cunt so asked around him, unsure whether to welcome him. A harsh thrust broke what little resistance your walls gave and had you mewling.

“Oh fuck!”

Large claws kneaded at your fleshy thighs, holding them to your chest as his hips crashed down into yours, cock hitting that sweet nerve over and over, making you coat his cock in creamy slick.

”Al-Alastor! Ha! Nggh ooh fuuuck me!” You cried, tears forming in your eyes as he pounded your count.

”You would think after all this time, I wouldn’t blink when you’re in heat. But oh darlin’ you always know how to catch my interest.” He goated lightly, a claw coming up to your parted lips, his thumb pressing inside as you sucked subconsciously on the digit.

His eyes narrowed at you, pulling his hips back to snap them forward as a response.

”Do you know how divine you smell? Just walking around with a dripping cunt without a care. Many demons would kill to fuck a cunt this appealing” a dark smirk curled on his lips when your cunt made a wet sound. “And Ill kill many demons to keep it to myself” he purred setting out a rough pace, claws on your round hips to pull you into his thrusts, keeping his cock nestled within your warm cavern.

Alastor was fucking you in your nest

A place sacred for only a doe’s mate

did that mean…was he?

Your brain was reeling. It couldn’t keep up with the sensations that were raking through your body. Your hands found purchase in the surrounding blankets as you let out moans that if you were in your right mind, would have left you embarrassed.

”mmhmm hmmm nngh Ah! Hhhaaa!” Your body jolted with his thrusts, the squish squelch noise of your cunt, echoing in your ears.

”Oh what a sweet doe you are my dear. I’ve always wonder what lied under that shy demeanor. And my my I wasn’t disappointed. A whore willing to spread her legs and be mounted.” You whimpered as he manhandled you onto your belly, knees barely supporting you as he slotted himself back inside you. You felt a heavy weight on your head, tugging to force your body to bounce on his cock.

when did your horns come in?

You hadn’t realized it, but you had transformed into your demon form.

and fucking hell were you gorgeous Alastor thought, hands wrapped around your slender horns and using them to control your movements.

Your tongue hanged out your mouth as your ass took the brute force of his thrusts. Alastor’s cock felt amazing.

Better than you could have imagined and so much better to scratch that lusty itch.

There was a puddle forming underneath you, soaking the bed, making the skin of Alastor’s thighs stick to yours.

Finally getting a look at your backside, Alastor felt his cock twitch as his eyes roamed down to where his cock was disappearing into you. His eyes zeroed in on your tail.

His hand dragged down your back, sharp claws cutting slightly to make blood ripple done your back. He wrapped his hand around your tail, softly twindling the tuft of fur before pulling.

A high-pitch moan left your throat. Your cunt clenched around him in response.

interesting he thought smiling as he used his grip on your tail to really make you take his cock deeper.

Your cunt was a soppy mess.

”Oh you like your tail pulled on dear? What a nautghty girl” Alastor chortled as he rocked his hips into you.

You were completely dazed with lust, that tingling knot forming in your stomach.

”please” you begged, pushing your hips against him, mewling as his hit the sponge that had you feeling sparks.

Alastor leaned over to your ear, never breaking his pace.

”hmmm? What was that dear?” He taunted cruelly.

”are you begging? What do you want doll? Cause I’m not going to stop til you’re filled with my cum. Is that what you want?”

You nodded “yes! Please please please let me cum! Cum in me- i w-want your cum please! Ha! Fuuuucckk” you whined, hand reaching underneath you to play with your clit.

”A-Al…please…breed me please i want it! I want it so bad!”

That had his cock twitch and hammer into you at record speed.

”oooh don’t worry your pretty head. You’ll get your fill”

Angled thrusts had your body jolting against the bed as you cried out, moaning so loud you were sure everyone in the hotel could hear you.

Alastor thought you were beautiful. How lovely you were covered in blood and sweat as he pounded you out. Your body went rigid before he felt your cunt flutter around him, milking him dry.

Your body slumped forward as he continue to ride out your orgasm.

”what a pretty doe, that’s a good girl. Milking my cock like a wanton slut. That’s it. I’m going to fill you up so good, I’m going to carve your cunt to only take my cock. You’ll like that wont you sweetheart? F-Fuck take it baby take it!” He grunted, snapping his hips into yours before he let out a loud growl, cock twitching before spilling his cum into you, painting your gooey walls white.

You let out a low whine feeling his warm goo fill you, before he pulled out, finally letting your body go.

You convulsed on the bed, panting as you felt his sticky spunk start to leak out of you.

Alastor sighed, rubbing your thighs as you came down from your high.

He chuckled “yes I think you’ll do just fine darlin”

Maybe heat cycles weren’t so bad after all…especially when there was a Doe ready to be filled with cum.

”Lovely”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #Its mating season for deers!!!

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kingconia · 8 months

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TWISTED WONDERLAND'S HOUSEWARDENS WITH A READER, WHO IS INSPIRED BY THE PROTAGONIST FROM THEIR STORIES

A/N: I didn't add Kalim or Jamil, because I feel their storyline is too much Aladdin & Jafar inspired already to do anything else with them.

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— That was definitely a dislike from the first sight. He predicted you to be his future reason of headache as soon as the mirror sent you to the Heartslabyul;

— Riddle sees you as an air-headed fool, who only asks too many unnecessary things, daring to question the wishes of the Red Queen, instead of serving to your dorm as a proper student would do;

— You, from the other side, struggle with understanding what makes Riddle hate you so much. You were nothing but kind towards him, always suggesting to eat some sweets together, and trying to ask him to take a break from his studies to hang out with you or others;

— When he overhears that your signature spell makes you others to tell you the truth, Riddle is... Intimidated. He is afraid that you will use is against him, and so, he starts ignoring you more often.

•

”Housewarden acts like an asshole towards you, though.”

Riddle doesn't even need to think twice to recognise a loud voice of Ace Trappola, another troublemaker in his form. He knows that he should just give him a punishment and leave for a lesson, but instead, he hides in the nearest bush, waiting to hear the rest of the conversation.

”Oh, Ace. You are being rude,” you mutter softly, sighing at your classmate. ”Perhaps, a housewarden doesn't like me, but this feeling is not necessarily mutual.”

Riddle raises his brows in surprise. Why, though? He is aware that his attitude is nothing but awful when it comes to you. He doesn't have a proper reason for that, either.

”You should, really,” Ace rolls his eyes. ”Dude has a problem with you liking white. And what else? Being nice?”

That isn't true. He is fine with you liking white—though, he admittedly got frustrated when you asked him on your first day why painting roses red, if they are prettier when they are white—and being nice. He just considers you too naive for this world.

”I think, you are... Misjudging him.”

That is right, Riddle mutters mentally. Tell him, Y/n.

”I think, the reason why housewarden is so... Let's say, annoyed by me, it is because I am everything he grew up hating and being restricted with. And it is harder, when something you should never be interested in, is nice and interesting. I think, housewarden is just confused.”

He feels his cheeks blushing furiously.

What did you say—

”And I think you are just being delusional,” Ace chuckles, patting your shoulder softly. ”Now, please, let's get out of here. I want to find Deuce.”

Riddle listens to the sound of your rushing steps, but he can't care less about it now. All he can do, is to recite your words, again and again.

Does he really think you as a nice and interesting?

Yes.

Does it make him hate you even more?

No, but he wishes it could work this way.

Until now, though, he merely returns to his studies. Maybe, you can be honest with yourself and everyone, but this kind of thing is not for him at all.

Leona Kingscholar. 💛

— Leona didn't notice you at first. Honestly, never planned too, until you started to cling to him in some idiotic attempts to be... What? Friends?;

— You remind him so much of Cheka, but he actually likes his nephew deep inside. And your presence is absolutely insufferable;

— You are too childish and annoying, and all you do is sway your tail as you try to befriend him, while pretending that you actually like him. Leona knows you have ulterior motives. Stop lying to him!

— He finds it stupid how someone so moronic as you managed to pull out such an interesting signature spell. Manipulating dreams of others? How cruel.

•

”Stop doing that,” Leona hisses, digging in your wrist as you try to touch his hair. ”I am seriously going to kill you, if you keep doing this. Do you hear that?!

A few weeks ago—approximately since you figured out your magic—Leona started saw dreams. Very colourful ones, cheerful even. And each, with the same meaning: he becomes the king, and his family and people adores him.

He hates it.

And he hates you for doing that.

Because, of course, he doesn't need your fucking pity. Your condescension. Your gifts. He doesn't need to be mocked!

”Ah? Leona-sama, what is it?” You blink, confused.

”What is your problem, huh?” He hastily jumps on his legs, towering on you. ”Don't you have anything to do? Go and mind your business, brat!”

Your lostness shifts in sadness. You are not scared of him, you are never are—another proof that you don't take him seriously—but you dare to look at him like that. As a kicked puppy.

”What did I do?”

”Stop sending me these stupid dreams! I don't need your pity, do you hear me?!” He yells, still gripping your wrist tightly. ”Go and dream of your family or something, instead, would you?”

”I... I am sorry,” you mumble, and your eyes dart on the floor.

Leona closes his mouth, when realisation dawns on him. You don't have a family to dream about; you are an orphan. Yours, the previous crown family, were killed by his great predecessors.

He doesn't know why he feels bad, when you picked the fight first.

”I will never bother you again, Leona-sama. I apologise.“ You repeat, and your voice suddenly sounds numb.

That is not the sight of you he, or anyone else, was used to. Not a single emotion on your face. You just snatch your wrist from his hold, before leaving him alone as he asked to.

”You are such a jerk,” Ruggie whistles from behind, appearing almost from nowhere.

”Shut up.”

”You know that they can't send any control dreams, right?” He continues, hands on his hips.

”What?” Leona unwillingly turns head on his vice.

”Dunno, but they only can adjust if it is going to be nightmare or a good dream,” Ruggie yawns. ”They are just a first-year, so... It is your brain that decides where is where for now.”

Fuck.

Leona hisses furiously.

He is so fucked up.

Azul Ashengrotto. 🩵

— Oh, so this is love? He notices you in the crowd of other students, as you flinch from loud voices from dynamics, clearly knowing very little of this world, and he is amused. Someone is clearly more social awkward than he is;

— Azul thinks you don't like him that much, though, because you only wave at him, and when he once tried to speak, you merely nodded and smile all the time without answering him properly;

— It is until twins tell him that you don't have a voice. You were brought to this world completely mute, because of the family curse, and though you hear everything, your only way to communicate with others is writing. Or a sign language;

— But if anything gods blessed you is your magic. Everything you touch turns to gold, and that is actually the main reason why you were kept isolated over years. Azul is over heels for you now...

•

”I am glad that you took time to accept my invitation, Y/n.”

Azul locks his hands together, looking at you with unhidden excitement. He is always too nervous in your company—luckily, you can't read a room—but today is a special day.

You smile at him, instead of answering.

”The reason why I asked you to came here, it is because I have a deal for you,” he continues carefully, weighing his every word. ”Do you see that?”

He points with his finger at the middle of the table. There is very beautiful necklace with pearls and a little seashell, looking quite normal and mundane. You nod again.

”That is something that could break your curse,” he explains, enjoying the way your eyes widen in the poor shock. ”Yes, yes, you heard me right. With that, you could speak easily.”

Azul can't help but soften as you tear up instantly. There is a whole minute, when he fights an urge to give it to you for free, but... He built his reputation too long to break it so easily.

”But, of course, I will need something from you in return.”

You tilt your head in question.

”I...”

I need you to love me.

”...I need you to use your power for my business when it will be required.”

And with that, Azul quickly shoves another contract to you. You blink a few times, but there is no back thoughts in your head. Quickly, as if afraid that he will change his mind, you took the pen, and leave your signature on all places, where it was needed.

Ah... Angelwish, why are you so naive! It kills him! What if he tried to use you? You didn't even read a contract! You really should be glad that Azul loves you so much.

Before he realises that, you are already putting a necklace on yourself.

One second, two. Three.

You are staring at him.

”Well?” He asks, anxiously.

”A... Azul?”

His heart drops.

Your voice is amazing. And hearing you saying his name is even better than he expected. He blushes.

”Azul... Thank you?”

”S-sure.”

Seems, like it is his turn to be speechless...

Vil Schoenheit. 💜

— He originally had nothing against you... Until other students didn't start to call you the most beautiful person in the world, following you everywhere obsessively, and suggesting you to become the next housewarden;

— Vil now officially hates you. Each time you come to him ends up with short anger impulses that he hardly hides from you, and he wishes you could just disappear;

— He is quite... Cruel with you. He wants you to change your dorm, actually, so he desperately pushes you to the edge by giving you impossible tasks to fullfil, and turning others against you;

— And he thinks your signature spell, speaking and controlling animals is another proof that you should leave Pomefiore for Savanaclaw.

•

“I don't think you are stupid, un petit entraîneur.”

Vil narrows his eyes, leaning slightly forward from his balcony. The sight of his vice speaking with you—hunter's interest in you was his another concern—annoys him instantly.

”What do you mean, Rook?” There is a big cat in your lap, clearly another of your minions.

”You know that our dear housewarden wants you out of here,” he murmurs, moving closer to you. ”A fair exchange with Savanaclaw, I would say. He doesn't like you here.”

You sigh.

”I figured it out, trust me. He made it very clear by always putting me in dangerous situations and giving me outdated products for skin, making me look like a fool in front of others.”

You don't mention how he makes you clean dark and messy rooms of other students.

”Yet, you are not willing to give up?” Rook touches the strand of your hair curiously.

”You know, I actually liked him a lot,” you admit suddenly, patting the cat behind its ear. ”Vil was the world for me. I was so amazed by him. By how collected he was, how hard he worked. I was excited to become his student... I wished to show him what he is worthy of. That others see his hard work.”

Vil's breath hitches. He remembers you mentioning that you were his fan, but he punished you for this remark; he didn't need to be so violently degraded. But... Was it a truth, then?

”...It is in the past now. I witnessed his true colours, and I will not tolerate it,” your smile twists in something more vicious, a ghostly fondness leaving your pretty face. ”He doesn't need to be scared of me being better anymore. Because I am going to be so much worse.”

He shudders as he hears that, your voice cold, and eyes gleaming dangerously. And as if Rook addresses him, he sighs suddenly, with the strange excitement in his voice:

”Oh, mon doux karma. What had you done?”

Idia Shroud. 💙

— From the minute you open your mouth in his presence , Idia knows he will hate you desperately... It is not serious, though;

— You are unbelievably loud, and too cheerful, and too proud, and you are so self-centred? Also, a fucking bimbo. Idia has no idea why everyone so into you, and what you are even doing in Ignihyde! Go away!

— You annoy him so much, and he actually hates the way you try to befriend him and make him more normie! Stop be like that! You are not welcome!

— Idia is absolutely not impressed that your signature spell is an instant tactics creation. Fuck you, by the way.

•

“You do know, that doors exist, right?” Idia hisses, not even stopping his game to spare you some attention.

”I do!” You say, climbing through the window with a loud thud.

”Then, why don't you use them, idiot?!”

Idia has no the slightest idea why anyone, let alone you of all people—he means, since you genuinely think that it is healthy to spend all your time outside of the room—would want to become his friend. But here you are. Trying to befriend him for a month already.

”Because you never open the door, Idia-sama,” you shrug easily.

”Take a hint, maybe.”

You close the window behind yourself, taking place behind his chair. Putting elbows on it, you hum thoughtfully, glancing from Idia to the screen of the computer, where the game flashes on. Another few minutes, and familiar yelps fill the room:

”Shit!”

Game over.

”Idia-sama,” you frown, ”maybe, I can help you?”

Idia snickers, rubbing his tired eyes. As if.

”Have you ever played this game, even?”

”No,” you murmur shyly, scratching the back of your neck. ”But I am good at tactics. And it is combat game, correct?”

Idia ponders for a while. That is surprising, because... You are actually absolutely correct. For once.

”Sit down, first year,” Idia exclaims, suddenly excited. ”I am going to teach you how to play this game.”

You smile widely, doing as it was told.

Finally, you cracked the code! And they said you weren't for this dorm...

Malleus Draconia. 💚

— Of course, he missed you as the new student at first, since he forgot to arrive at the orientation day. But it is not that long as he starts hearing others praising you, Lilia especially;

— You are quickly becoming the part of the school life as everyone loves you, and calling you ’the heart of the school’. And while Malleus wants to befriend you, too... He also can't help but feel envious of how easy it is for you. The socialization;

— You are quick to fall asleep everywhere, much like Silver. And since Malleus can't find courage to speak to you, he wanders around, when you are asleep at the strangest places, instead;

— When the first overblot incident happens, your signature spell kicks in. To everyone's horror, it is absolutely terrifying. Your magic is about thorns. Thorns, that wrap around Riddle's weakened body, when he touches you. He almost dies. And the same thing happens with Ace, who accidentally brushes your skin. Now... Everyone shun you away.

•

”Hello, Malleus-sama,” you mutter, eyes sleepy as you look around. ”I apologise.”

Malleus doesn't quite mind you falling asleep in the class, where his gargoyle's researches are going currently. He is the only member, anyway. But he nods.

”I had never seen you here before,” he notices in a poor attempt of the small talk.

You shrug.

”There is no other students here. And it is better for me not to show up around them.”

What a familiar thinking process... Somehow, he finds it easier: to approach you know, when you are not everyone's favourite anymore.

”I see. You can stay, then. I am not welcomed by them either, so no one is going to enter this classroom.”

You offer him a smile. It is short, strained at the edges, but still sweet. Malleus thinks he understands how you so easily charmed others in the last months; you are much like sunshine, when you are happy. It is a shame you are not, anymore.

”You know, Malleus-sama, I always wanted to become your friend,” you admit suddenly, making him open his eyes in surprise. ”And, I think, you wanted to be mine friend, too.”

You? Why would someone like you want to have him as your friend?

”And why would you think that?”

You fold arms on your chest slowly.

”You are always here, when I am sleeping,” Malleus feels blush touching the tips of his pointy ears. You elaborate. ”I am not sure people realise, but I sleep too much not only because I am lazy, but also because I feel surroundings better like this. I remember everything I hear in my sleep, and I do feel if someone is around.”

Ah. So, that is the secret of yours. And he wondered how you master in all your classes, when you sleep all the time...

”...I see,” Malleus mutters, ashamed. ”I apologise, then.”

He reminiscences of how often he whispered you some nonsense when you slept—childish complaints about how he hates you for being so easily loved by others, random poems that came to his mind as he sat down by your side, stories from his childhood—and feels like disappearing in the shame wouldn't be that bad.

”You know, Malleus-sama, you and I... We are not so different. We both do what we have to do to keep our loved ones to ourselves,” you sit down on the couch beside him slowly. ”But it leads only to one thing.”

Malleus gazes at you curiously as you suddenly curl on his lap, much like a cat. Your eyes met as he helps you to settle more comfortably.

”To destiny?” He asks aloud, tilting his head.

”To pain.”

There is a beat of silence in which your smile suddenly appears to be more bitter, less serene. Malleus doesn't know what happened with you in details, and how awfully these changes in your reputation affected on you, but he can say that it was hard.

”Now, if you don't mind, and I believe, you don't, Malleus-sama, I would like to dream a little bit.” You warn him, already closing your eyes, not really waiting for the answer.

Still, Malleus nods. Though that is not something you can see.

”Sleep, then... Beastie,” he sighs, patting your hair gently.

You snicker, before your breath slows down, alarming that you completely drifted off.

Malleus stares at you openly now.

Ah, who would've thought? He had finally made a friend.

Part two with Leona & Vil is here.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar x reader #malleus x reader #vil schoenheit #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #malleus draconia x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader

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luveline · 1 year

Text

losers | remus lupin

“Please.”

“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?”

you find remus’ number on an abandoned motorbike. things snowball from there. [10k words]

fem!reader, fluff, first date, smut mdni, implied inexperienced!reader, almost rockstar!remus, mentioned that remus takes painkillers, muggle!au, early 2000’s au

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ There’s a motorbike outside of the cafe.

It’s huge. Too heavy for you to move. Technically, you hadn’t found it at all, it was left there in the dead of night a few days ago and hasn’t budged since. It’s illegally parked, a fact that your manager won't stop muttering about while she’s elbow deep in latte foam and coffee cakes.

“I’m getting the bastard thing towed,” she grumbles that morning. “Let the police deal with it.”

That seems rather harsh to you. It isn’t necessarily in the way, and it looks well loved. Perhaps whoever left it can’t remember where they left it, having stumbled home on inebriated footing after one too many at the pub across the street. You think about how much it must cost to get your stuff back after it’s been towed, and though you aren’t sure of the specifics, you know it can’t be cheap. So, when your manager falls into conversation with a regular and your break begins, you creep outside to do some investigating.

It’s a hulking thing made of more black than silver. There are stickers across the left side of the body, weathered and peeling, though one is newer than the others and immediately draws your eye.

A phone number.

If lost, please call.

You take your phone out of your pocket, a flip phone with one dangling charm in the shape of a star. You click each faded button slowly. You're scared to talk to someone you don’t know, but relieved to maybe save the day.

It goes for ages.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say, dropping your voice into its sweetest tones, though nerves make you too soft, and you worry you’re hard to hear. “Hey, um, sorry to bother you. I work at The Mill, it’s a– a cafe in the city centre… Are you missing a bike, by any chance? A motorbike?”

“Oh, thank you. Yeah, it’s my friend’s. He can be… forgetful.” The voice that speaks is both smooth and gritty, impossibly, like whoever it is that’s talking smoked half a pack of cigarettes before he answered the phone. He clears his throat. “I hope it hasn’t been an imposition for you.”

“Actually, uh, my manager wants to have it towed. Like, now. I can try to fend her off but honestly she’s like, that physics law, um, unstoppable force? Uh,” —you’re stuttering, making it worse, because his voice is surprisingly handsome and you’re an idiot through and through— “yeah, so could you come and get it?”

“Yes! Yeah, absolutely, we’re on our way. Thank you.”

“Sure. Of course.”

You hear something not meant for you, the tail end of, “Sirius, get up. You better call Marl and—”

Phone back in your pocket, you take a quick glance around the street before reaching out to run your finger over the cracked leather of the motorbike seat. You’ve never ridden one before. You’ve never wanted to. The level of fearlessness one needs for it isn’t one you possess.

You’re the opposite of fearless.

The sun hides behind a wave of clouds. Your skin chills near immediately, your prim slacks and apron a worthless defence against the cold. It’s an average day here, grey and quiet. Occasionally a couple will pass you, hand in hand as they traverse the worn pavement. You smile at an elderly man and his dog as they shuffle across the street and into the cafe. Your smile fades as you tune into the fierce tones of your manager, demanding to know where you’ve gone. If your absence is what distracts her from calling the police, so be it.

You’re considering getting your phone back out to play Snake when a passing car slows beside you. You straighten up and out, feeling your spine click in more places than it should as the passenger door opens and an insanely attractive man throws himself out of it.

“My angel!” he cries, heading straight for you.

You take a panicked step backward. The man dives for his motorbike. You flinch, mystified by his enthusiasm and his opposite appearance. Short sleeves reveal arms full of dark tattoos, with one side marred by a brutally long scar from his elbow to the back of a ring-laden hand. You tear your eyes from him as a second door closes across the street, and feel all the air rush from your chest as a second man approaches.

He’s very pretty. It might be redundant to say it to yourself, presented as you are with an undeniable truth, but you think it anyway. Sandy brown hair, pale skin, and in enough layers to make up for his friends lack thereof, the second man ignores any dramatics and meets you head on.

“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand, “you’re the one who called?”

Closer now, you can see the scars on his face. They stretch over the ridge of his nose and into his eyebrow. A smaller one tugs as he talks against his top lip.

You take his hand and shake it limply. “Yeah, that was me.”

If he’s concerned with your nervousness he doesn’t show it. His smile doesn’t move. “He wants to say thank you. He will, once he gets over himself.”

“Thank you!” the dark-haired man calls. “She’s my everything. I’ve been sick with worry.”

“Have you?” the man in front of you asks, his voice steady, almost intimidating in its impassiveness.

“Yes, Moons, I have been… not that you’d know.”

“Some of us have real problems,” Moons snips, though he quickly looks at you like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry. He brings out the worst in me.”

“You must be good friends.”

You don’t know why you say it. He only smiles.

“We must be.”

The first man stands up from checking over his motorbike and beams at you. You suspect it’s an expression that works in his favour more often than not. “What can I give you, doll?”

“No, nothing. Please. I’ll just be glad to hear the end of it.”

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, really."

Your manager calls your name, clear as day despite the thick pane of glass and brick walls separating you.

"That's you?" Moons asks.

"That's me. Sorry."

"No, don't be. Thanks so much for calling."

You nod hurriedly, throwing them both a 'nice to meet you, I'm sorry for leaving so fast' kind of smile and head back inside.

You take a sneaky look back when you're behind the counter again. They’ve turned their backs to you, Moons' friend ruffling his hair roughly. After a minute or two, Moons gets back in his car, and the motorbike pulls away like it was never there to begin with.

What sort of name is Moons? you ask yourself. It's a question that stays with you for a few days. You find yourself hoping you'll see him again, or that his friend's motorbike will turn up outside of the cafe for a few long days and give you an excuse to call him. His number stays unsaved in your recent calls menu for a while. Eventually, you forget about him altogether; the motorbike, the call, the gentle wave of his hair.

You're hard-pressed to forget his voice, though. There'd been something familiar about it.

"Nice highscore."

You jump hard and wince as the metallic taste of blood hits your taste buds. To make it worse, you slam your phone up into the counter it was hiding under in shock. It makes a fatal crunching sound.

You shove it into your pocket and look up. Standing there, in all his handsome weariness, is Moons, sans friend. He's wearing nice clothes, clean and clearly ironed. You're immediately aware of your ratty uniform and your unkempt hair.

"Shit," you say, which is so fucking embarrassing, honestly, you could fall through the floor and stay there, "Sorry. What can I get you?"

His eyebrows inch up his forehead. "What's the easiest thing to make?"

That's not a question you get often. "Uh, regular black coffee, or tea, or, the uh– the hot chocolate's not that hard. But you should order whatever you like, of course."

Moons smiles at you. You're starting to understand the nickname (assuming it is a nickname). He has this odd but enticing presence about him, like that awestruck feeling of looking up at night and seeing all the teeny tiny stars and the moonlight that comes down with them, bright and somewhat daunting.

"Sure you don't mind?"

"I'm paid not to mind."

"Can I get the biggest cup of tea you can make? Milk and two sugars, please."

"Absolutely." You sidestep to the register and click a bunch of the wrong buttons. You're unprofessionally flustered. "Uh, three sixty five?"

He passes you a five pound note. Your tip cup is for the more generous type, and he has no trouble dropping his palmful of change into it. He barely looks. You're expecting him to take a seat but he stays standing, one arm pressed to the counter, the other held up. He scratches behind his ear absentmindedly, as though he has nowhere else to be.

"Are you in a hurry?" you ask, confused.

He stays quiet for enough time to shit you up. You're tipping milk over your hand and hoping he hasn't seen it when he says, "No rush. I'm here to see you."

You look over your shoulder at him. You can't help it. "To see me."

"Yeah."

You spin back to his tea. The counter is covered in spills and sugar, cup tops and wooden stirrers. You take them all in with wide eyes. Nobody ever comes to see you. Not your friends, not family (unless they want something). Especially not boys you met once for two minutes.

"Is there something wrong?" you ask.

You clip the lid onto his big tea and wrap it in napkins so it doesn't burn his hands.

"Nothing's wrong," he says kindly. "I wanted to apologise. Your boss was upset with you. It was Sirius' fault. We owe you for it."

"You really don't have to say sorry. She wasn’t that mad. No harm, no foul."

You put his cup of tea down in front of him and try to smile like girls do in the movies. Soft doe eyes, not too bright, not too awkward. You give up after a second and feel it twist into something regrettable.

His long silence makes you squirm.

"A thank you, then.”

He offers you an envelope. You take it.

The paper is crisp and thick. Your fingers are clumsy, and it takes you too many seconds to fold the envelope's lip and pull out the card stock inside.

You look up in shock. "I can't–"

He's not there. You look to the door, catching what might've been his hand as he walks out of view.

He's left you two concert tickets. You don't go to concerts. You might have, when you were younger, and had friends to follow. As it stands he's given you two seated tickets for a show in the Pointer Arena not far from where you work, for a band you've never heard of. The price on each is a solid £20, which is way too much repayment for ringing a number from a sticker. Worse, you're not sure you have somebody who can use the second one.

You hope he'll come back for clarification alone, and a little to see him, but he doesn't, and soon the date on the ticket matches the date on your calendar and you're standing outside of the venue with no clue how to hold yourself.

You stand in line for a while. It's a very long line made up of mostly younger women. You listen for the calling of a reseller and spot a group of young girls trying to haggle with them, reluctantly leaving your place in line.

"Hi," you say quietly to the one furthest from the epicentre. "I'm sorry if this is weird. I have an extra ticket tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like it? I know it's seated, but maybe you could use it to get in and then, uh, not sit? Or just sit." You could writhe around on the ground in shame. You hold out the spare ticket. "If you want it."

"Are you kidding?"

"No, seriously."

She takes the ticket and you walk away before she can try and give it back to you. Whether she uses it or not, it's no longer your problem to deal with. The lady who'd been standing behind you lets you back in line, for which you're extremely grateful, and you shiver your way to the front with nerves churning your stomach.

You've imagined being turned away twenty times by the time they usher you through the doors. The air is buzzing with excitement, enough of it to ramp up your nerves, and you smile weakly at the people who pass you on the way up to the seating area you've been designated. The Pointer Arena is a smaller venue with much more standing than seating capacity available. The seats are at the sides and back of the second floor, looking down at the pit with a safety barrier in front.

You slide into your seat and peer down at the crowd as it fills up one ant of a person at a time. You can't distinguish one person from another after a while. It’s a moving sea of dark clothes.

It takes a long time for the opening act to come on. You're not having much fun. You'd tried to use the computer in the cafe to research the bands playing tonight but the dial up hadn't been working and your manager hates when you take long breaks, so you aren't sure you'll even enjoy yourself. You're not sure why you came here — is it sad, to come here alone? It looks sad, you think, pathetic, but it doesn't feel sad. You're not very good at talking, anyways. It's so difficult. Or maybe you just make it that way.

This is why you regret coming. Any time spent by yourself is time to think. You hate thinking, but it's all you seem to be able to do. Think and think and think. Your mind runs in the same circles. Things you've done, things you wish you did, things you want to do so badly it makes you feel sick. You can't stand it.

The crowd begins to rise in volume. Cheers echo against the atrium ceiling, and you push yourself to the edge of your seat to see what's making them all so excited.

The opening band. They're too far away to see clearly. First on stage is a man with brown skin and a head of black curls, a guitar swinging from his neck, the body barely held as he waves to the masses. Next comes a paler man with hair tied up in a bun who sits down behind the drum kit and doesn't move much after that. A girl practically sprints to centre stage, scooping up a waiting guitar (or bass?) and strumming down the body appreciatively. She has purple hair, bright and choppy, particularly abrasive against the alabaster white of her skin.

And last on stage… last on stage is Moons.

You move forward suddenly, smacking your face against the plexiglass barrier and biting your cheek for the second time in a week. Used to your mistreatment, the poorly healed skin wastes no time splitting, and the metallic taste of blood makes you cringe.

That's Moons. There are two huge screens either side of the stage that magnify him. First his hand on the microphone, a scar coiling up from his wrist to his thumb purple against his skin. Then his face. You wouldn't forget what he looks like so soon, not when you've half obsessed over him for days with could-be's because he'd wanted to see you and you have a bad habit of inventing future's with people you don't know, but even if you did it wouldn't matter. You've never met anyone else with three scars as he has across his face, taking centre stage.

You hadn't realised the tickets were to see his band. It makes sense, now, why your seat is in such a quiet area, and why the people sitting close by aren't firecracker happy at the sight of them. They must've received their tickets in the same way, gifts or thank yous for small favours.

Your mouth dries as they begin to play. It's not what you're expecting. Of course, you haven't really had time to expect anything, and yet you're shocked when they start to play a slow song. He doesn't really look like a rockstar, but a heartthrob? You can see it easily. The long lengths of his lashes, and the dark honey of his eyes. His smile, so small but somehow piercing.

His voice is careful. He doesn't sing anything impressive —there's no belting or high notes— but you still find yourself wringing your hands together, entranced by his confidence. He dances around the melodies and fills up every space he can find between the beat of the drums and the searing guitar riffs that follow.

They only play five songs. By the time they've finished you're feeling sick to your stomach, and you can't get your heart to calm down. You hadn't known a word of the lyrics, but you'd felt them.

They're good.

Like, too good to be openers for long.

The crowd echoes your sentiment. They clap and scream and wolf whistle. The noise vibrates in the depth of your stomach. The cheering doubles when the headlining band’s techies emerge. The lights go down. Equipment begins to roll out.

You scrounge through your purse for a lip balm and think about heading downstairs to the concession stands for an overpriced bottle of water to wash away the unfortunate tang of blood. It aches to pay, but if you don't soon you might get nauseous, and that would be a real disaster, throwing up here of all places.

You hear his voice before you see him. He's laughing, talking to somebody about the set.

"It was great!" compliments a feminine voice. "I don't know what you were so worried about, Remus, you're really great. And if you weren't, Marl would've saved the day anyways with her gorgeous showmanship."

"Thanks, baby," says a second voice. Marl.

"Thanks, Mary," Moons says.

What had Mary called him? Remus? Odd, not quite as strange as Moons.

You try not to tense as footsteps approach.

"Can I sit?" he asks.

You look up too fast. He's a little damp, the hair closest to his face curled with it, but he smells good as he sits down. He must've washed up.

"I– I've been calling you Moons in my head," you admit, not sure what to say.

He's intimidating. You don't imagine he knows it. He sits in the chair without any fanfare, setting his forearm on the rest between your two seats and turning his face to you completely, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, almost like he doesn't want to smile but can't help himself. His eyes are the slightest bit lidded, emphasising the brilliance (and unfairness) of his lashes, so thick and dark you wonder if he's wearing makeup.

"You can call me whatever you want to, but my name's Remus. I should've told you that before. I was… distracted."

He isn't being coy, you realise. He easily could be if he wanted to, but he was genuinely lost for words for a second.

"I didn't really tell you mine," you say, hoping to ease his gentle confusion.

He says your name like it's easy. Like he enjoys the sound of it. "Y/N. Do you like music?"

Is that a trick question? His eyes trace up to your eyebrows as they pinch together, but he doesn't amend his question. Not a trick, then.

"I like music,” you say.

"I realise it's brave to ask someone to come and see you on stage. And that I look like a tosser sometimes with the stage lights and makeup."

"No," you say quickly, "you don't. You looked just fine. You looked good. I bet it's hard getting on stage like that, and in front of this many people. And singing. You have a really nice voice."

His eyes soften. "Thank you. Do you wanna go get a drink with me? There's a bar. It's quiet."

Your elbow brushes against his long sleeve. "Yeah." You're not breathless enough to embarrass yourself, but it's a close call.

Remus leads you up and out of the seats. The venue is large in that it has just as many hallways and back rooms as it has places to watch the show. Remus’ warm hand catches your elbow, a friendly touch that guides you around the barrier and through a dimly lit hallway that takes you to the bar.

The bar overlooks the stage, but the sound of the band and the crowd is dampened severely, making for a sorely needed respite. VIP's mill around the room on plush leather sofas and cushy bar stools sipping from sweating glass bottles. Remus' hand moves up to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as a familiar face waves you over.

"Hey, it's you!"

You smile at Remus' motorbike friend. You're a hundred percent sure his name is Sirius, but you won't say it aloud in case you're wrong. Beside him sits the other man you'd seen on stage with them, the guitarist with brown skin and a head full of thick hair. You look between the three of them in secret shock, wondering if handsome attracts handsome or if it's just dumb luck that they ended up together.

"James, this is the babe that found Stacia," Sirius says.

James wrinkles his nose. "Hi," he says, in a voice that sounds deeply apologetic, years of it like the rings of a tree. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Um, and you?"

"I'm good! Thanks, I'm good, it's nice of you to come see us. Did you like the show?"

"Yeah, I did. I had no idea you guys were musicians."

He splits his attention between you and his jacket. He pulls a glasses case out of his pocket, clicks it open, and straightens out a pair of wire frames.

"Couldn't tell from our baby boy's general demeanour?" he asks. "Hey, that's better, I can see you now."

"Sirius is the youngest," Remus says.

"And the handsomest."

"No, Marl's clearly the handsome one," James says lightly.

Sirius takes the rebuttal in good jest and brandishes his drink toward you like a toast. "Want a beer?"

"I'm getting her one," Remus says, "come on, give me a minute here."

Everybody laughs. You laugh too, turning your face into your shoulder to smother the sound.

"Well, come and sit with us, make yourself comfortable," James says, moving his jacket off of the chair in front of you.

Remus makes a small, apprehensive sound. "Drinks first." He looks to you for confirmation. "Yeah. We'll be back."

You follow him to the bar. Your shoes, a pair of dirty converse you wish you'd swapped for heels or something sophisticated, squeal against the hardwood floor. How were you supposed to know you'd see him again tonight? In what world does stuff like this happen to scruffy waitresses? You're starting to think he might be somebody.

Not that it matters if he is or isn't.

But if he is… This is embarrassing, right? Not knowing who he is.

There must be a couple thousand people here tonight. Then again, his band were the opening act, so it doesn't necessarily mean they're all famous or anything.

"Hey," Remus says softly, stopping your thoughts cold. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Sorry. I've never been in here before, anywhere that's like it,” you say.

"Venues are all different but the bars don't change," he says. "What do you like?"

"I'm not a big drinker."

"That's okay. I just wanted an excuse to be alone with you." He doesn't even give you time to recover. "Truth is, I wanted to ask you out. But between shows I couldn't find time, and next week I'm in San Marino."

What you mean to say is, you wanted to ask me out? But instead, you choke, "You're going to Italy?"

Remus pushes a seat out for you, helping you up with a solid hand, and, while your fingers are still warm from his touch, he says, "San Marino isn't Italy. I didn't know that 'til a few months ago. But pretty much."

"What's in San Marino?"

"A wedding." He climbs into the seat next to you, smiling.

The tan colour of his long-sleeves contrasts his pale hands. Your eyes flash to his ring finger. Not his wedding.

Remus isn’t easy to talk to. It's not wholly his fault. He doesn't force conversation, leaving you awkwardly searching for something to say. You're not the best conversationalist either. He clearly doesn't mind it.

You're in the midst of a clumsy retelling of a shitty customer service moment when he tips his head to the left just a touch.

"Maybe we can go on an actual date when I'm home,” he says.

He says it like he's talking about the weather. You'd be worried he was messing with you, but then he smiles again, flicking his index finger against your wrist mildly. "You don't have to answer me now. Finish telling your story."

"It was pretty much finished. And– and I'd like to. Go on a real date. I've never been out of the country, so you'll have to forgive me if I want to know everything about San Marino."

He looks at your lips. Says, "Good," and doesn't give any indication that he's noticed how nervous you are. That is, until he covers your trembling hand with his and presses it flat to the bar.

"You're really pretty," he murmurs. He takes a moment, and he smiles. "Come with me? If I don't give Sirius some attention soon he'll start showing off."

—

James is starting to wonder if he should invite you to San Marino. He's not that stupid; it would be a huge pain if you were standing in the middle of all his wedding photos and you and Remus don't work out. But, while he's certainly and majorly jumping the gun, he has a suspicion he’ll be seeing you again.

James has never seen Remus like this before.

His friend is usually quiet, quipping every now and then perhaps at Sirius' insufferable antagonism but otherwise brooding. He hasn't seen him smile this much, ever.

James is under no illusions — he knows Remus loves him very much. He knows Remus is happy, and not always healthy but managing. He knows Remus is pleased with their lives and ecstatic to have their music take off. But he also knows Remus won't let himself have a good thing, not really. Maybe that's why he's asked you out now, when in a week they'll be in San Marino, and a week after that they'll be in Cardiff to officially start the new tour.

He knows Remus, sweetheart, kind hearted, miraculous Remus, tends to let people down. He's a stickler for asking people out and cancelling the day before. It's how it always goes. James will ask how the date went and Remus will shake his head and say, "it didn’t work out."

He knows Remus doesn't mean to hurt anybody. He just… can't get close.

But he's trying, with you. A glass of cordial in one hand, the other behind your chair, Remus tells you one of his more embarrassing stories about how he'd taken a bad fall and ended up in A&E with half of an eyebrow. He doesn't mention the painkillers that made him woozy.

You've relaxed considerably since sitting down. James would be happy to report that you're having a good time. You have your own drink in hand, and your eyes are bright, with a receding space between your face and Remus' as the story goes on. It's like watching two magnets fight to hold themselves apart.

Matter of time, James thinks to himself smugly.

—

Honesty is important. You admit to yourself that you and Remus aren't exactly a perfect match. Both quiet, both not quite social butterflies, your conversations had occasionally been stilted and slow, but you've only met twice. Things don't have to be perfect, and more than that — there's a spark there. A twinge of a possibility. He'd liked what little he knew about you enough to ask to see you again, and you'd like what little you knew about him in turn to say yes.

It doesn't have to be perfect, you insist to yourself, a bundle of nerves. Nothing does.

He looks pretty perfect. Base of his palm pressed to the brick wall of the cafe, hand angled down as his fingers grasp the neck of a bouquet whose flowers have been shedding petals onto the damp pavement below. He holds his other hand against his chest, clicking buttons on his phone.

You approach from the left and watch him play a game of Snake.

"You play Snake?" you ask.

"Doesn't everybody?" he asks back, his smile softening what might otherwise feel like a chastisement. He doesn't look up from his phone.

"Woah, how long have you been out here?" you ask, eyeing his weirdly long snake.

Remus guides the snake into a wall on purpose. It dies, his high score flashes across the screen, and he aims an apologetic look your way. "Sorry, that was rude." He doesn't try to hide that he's looking over your face. "Thanks for coming."

He leans in and kisses your cheek. Delighted warmth curls in your stomach, worse when he passes you the bouquet of flowers. They've mostly survived his poor treatment, and there's a lot of them. He's left the price tag on and you're not sure if he's noticed. You pretend not to see it.

"Thank you…” You look away from the flowers, all whites and reds and baby’s breath, to ogle him as subtly as you can manage. “Wow, you've caught the sun. Was it lovely in San Marino?"

"I'll tell you all about it over dinner,” he says. “I thought we'd walk, it's not far." He holds out his hand. You wipe your palm against your side before you take it, worried you'll have clammy hands. He must guess, because he says, "Don't be nervous."

"I am," you say hopelessly. "I've never been on a date before."

"This is your first date?"

You feel a hot flush coming on. "I– yeah. That's embarrassing, I shouldn't have told you that."

"No, it's a good thing. Now I know it has to be extra special."

"It doesn't," you say.

"I was hoping it would be." He pulls you down the pavement and further into the city centre toward the main high street. "San Marino. It was beautiful, and I took a couple of photos but I didn't have room on my phone. Well, I could've deleted Snake–"

"Why would you?" you joke, grinning.

He laughs, and squeezes your hand slightly. "Exactly. I have priorities. It's a long flight, and looking over the photos can only take up so much time. No, but it really was… it was beautiful. I'd never given much thought to a destination wedding. They make sense, right? It's the best day of your life, why would you have it here?"

He tilts his chin toward the grey sky. You look up with him, feeling the cold wind kiss the sides of your face and pull through your hair.

"Come on, Remus, it's not that bad. If it's sun you're after, you could just wait for British summer time. You know, the whole three days of it."

He laughs — you've made him laugh twice already. This is going okay. Laughing while looking at one another, a bouquet in one hand and his hand in the other, you feel that curl of delight begin to bloom. It fills your insides up, has you smiling until your eyelashes brush in the corners.

"It was James' wedding. Do you remember which one that was?"

He asks so kindly. You don't doubt for a second that he wouldn't care if you forgot. It's refreshing, even if it's something you'd expect.

"I remember. I didn't realise he was getting married."

"Don't ever say that in front of him, he'll put himself on the cross." He swings your hand as you turn a corner. The Italian restaurant you'd agreed on winks from a distance.

"He's devoted," you guess.

"He's insane. He was worse when we were younger. His girlfriend– his wife," he amends, "Lily, she's really something else. Warm and funny, but she's been keeping him on his toes for years. She has family in San Marino, hence the wedding."

You listen to him talk eagerly. His voice is as handsome as his face, and the more he says the less stilted he becomes. There had been a strained quality to it before (strained, or restrained? something he wasn't saying) that's all but disappeared.

"It was like a movie. White linen, sand, crying."

"Did you cry?" you ask, expecting a puffed up chest.

"So much. Too much, maybe. I was half of the best man."

"Half?"

"We had to share, me and Sirius. They've always been…" Remus slows his steps. "Am I being boring? I'm talking too much about me."

"We have time. I want to hear it. I'd like to hear it," you say.

James and Sirius are brothers. Remus sees your surprised look and doesn't condemn you for it. Sirius is unofficially adopted. The Potter's fostered him from ages thirteen until he aged out, and though they tried to adopt him, Sirius was reluctant. Remus doesn't get into the reasons beyond that, and you don't ask. You suspect he's only telling you about it to drive home how much the Potter's love Sirius. How much James does.

Remus had been Sirius' friend from their very first year of comprehensive school. Sirius moved in with the Potter's, and, adoring as they were, they let him have friends over whenever he liked. James, Sirius, and Remus spent the next decade together like that, hiding in Sirius' room. Best friends, entirely inseparable, and all fiercely protective of each other.

"They've always been like brothers."

"But not…"

He understands what you're worried to say. "I think it would've been weird… I had a candle burning for James. For a long time."

Your jaw drops a little. "And you just had to watch him have the most romantic wedding ever," you whisper sympathetically. You're joking: it's clear the candle isn't burning now.

"Told you I cried," he says. "No, but you've seen him. He's a supermodel. It's awful."

"Remus, I think you might be underestimating how handsome you are," you say. You bite your lip and look at his chin rather than his eyes.

He's generous. He gives your wrist a tug and chuckles warmly. "I'm glad you think so. Tonight might have been awkward, otherwise."

You duck together inside of the restaurant, hands falling apart as Remus gives his last name for the reservation. Lupin. Your face has a mind of its own.

"Charming, isn't it?"

"It is," you say emphatically, denying his sarcasm. "I've never heard anything like that. Lupine, like a fox?"

"Wolf."

A server shows you to your table and hands you two leather covered menus. Leather, not plastic, a sign that tonight is going to be classy. You've dressed for the occasion in a smart blouse and slacks, too terrified of wearing a dress. Remus seems to have done the same as you, reaching for smart but dodging the mark in a button down and a casual jacket. When he takes off his coat, he looks perfect. He fits right in.

"Could we get a glass?" he asks the server. "For the flowers? If it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all."

You run your hand across the silken tablecloth and the space between you both feels somehow smaller than when you'd been holding hands. Outside, you could let your gaze drift to the pavement, the fenced in trees, the couples that passed you by. Here, you're forced to watch one another.

It's not so bad. It's agonising.

"This is weird," you say. You flinch when you hear yourself. "Sorry, not that you're weird! I'm weird. I've never ever done this."

"No, I know," he says, almost murmuring, "it's okay."

"I just blurted out what I was thinking–"

"I know." He sits back in his chair. His head tilts down, his eyelashes kissing the skin above his brows as he fixes you with a look. It has the intended effect, tension easing from your rigid spine and tight shoulders. "This is weird. But it's still early. It could get weirder."

You like that he says it as if it's a good thing.

You order the same thing he does, and you don't turn down his offer to get a bottle of wine, though it feels too grown up. You keep forgetting you're an adult, and that your life isn't on hold. Things can happen to you at any time.

"I want to address the elephant in the room," he says.

Not promising. "Okay."

"Are we having dessert?" Remus leans forward on both forearms. Hair falls in his eyes. He's dressed nicely and he's handsome but there's something homespun about him, something golden. You can't help looking at him and thinking impossibly forward thoughts, cheesy waffle from the films. He's familiar. "Nobody ever wants to get dessert with me. It's actually a real issue for me."

"I'll get dessert with you." A smoother you with more confidence, who wore the dress and asked him to go to the Thai restaurant instead, would've said something more suave. We're having whatever you want, handsome.

Remus flips the menu to the very last page and reads the desserts aloud. For himself, it seems, half-muttered and apprehensive. "Chocolate cake from places like this will either be the nicest thing we've ever eaten or burnt in the microwave. And it's childish that I want chocolate cake. I should be spoon feeding you creme brulee. Or whipped cream and strawberries."

He tips his head back and rubs his eyes. It's a charade of feigned self loathing that makes you laugh.

"I'm a child," he laments, thumb and index finger pressed into his eyes. He checks to see if you're watching before doubling down.

"I like cake," you say, and you'd lie if you thought it was what he wanted to hear. Handsome, kind, and funny. Not to mention talented. He needs smart for the sweep.

Remus falls out of his dramatics. You mourn the loss, beggy a good look on him, but forget all about it when he slides his chair around the table to share the menu with you, your heads inclined as you read it together again. He smells woody. You hope he likes the jasmine of your perfume.

"It all sounds really nice," you confide, afraid to disturb the comfortable hush. "I haven't had gelato since I was a kid. Oh, did they have real gelato in San Marino?"

“They had a lot of stuff in San Marino… I want to hear about you.”

“What do you want to hear?”

The questions start and don’t stop. Where did you grow up? That’s the easy part. What did you study in school? Were you in sports? The art club? And what do you do now, when you aren’t working in the cafe? The more he asks, the easier it is to answer. He doesn’t slow when the waiter brings a glass for your bouquet, simply stands and places them inside with exceedingly gentle hands, smiling at you from between the stems. You eat slowly when the food arrives — you're busy talking.

It feels fucking amazing. To have someone want to know anything about you. And unless he’s an actor of the highest regard, he’s obviously enjoying your conversations, though they wilt and wane and wind around one another. You lose track of time and thread as the night goes on, distracted by the near unnoticeable asymmetry of his smile, and the way he laughs when you laugh, like an echo.

You get cake like he wanted. Triple fudge cake with buttercream thick but melting from the heat. It looks straight from the pages of a magazine, glossy and dusted with sugar powder, but he doesn’t seem to like it. He takes a couple of bites and leaves it alone. You don’t want to look greedy, so you do the same.

The date is suddenly over.

“Could I walk you home?” he asks, when you’ve both put your coats back on, and the damp roots of your flowers are leaving an imprint on your chest.

You nod rather than answer.

Things are good, not perfect. That’s what you keep thinking. There’s something he isn’t saying. Or, horrifyingly, something he doesn’t like about you. Still, the sky is velvet black and the air is crisp. Stars like needlepoints dot the air. Street lights work to hide them, casting a warm yellow glow over the pavements and your meandering shoes.

A brisk wind whips past you. You shiver and press your lips together hard, hands quick to rigidity. Remus looks at you sideways, and breaks the quiet. “Are you cold?”

“A little.” No point in lying when he can see you trembling.

“Do you want my coat?”

“No, no, it’s alright–“ You cut off as he steps in front of you, his hand vying for yours.

He tucks the flowers under his arm and sandwiches your fingers between his. He has short fingernails, and another scar down one pinky finger. How’d you get that one? you want to ask. How’d you get any of them?

His breath clouds the air. “I should’ve thought about the cold.”

“This is better,” you say. Than a warm taxi home. His thumbs brushing down the backs of your hands.

You walk to your flat building and hesitate at the foyer door. The potential for a kiss goodnight has flayed your thoughts. The image of his hands climbing your arms, holding you still, plays like a flickering film. You have no idea if he’s going to do it.

“How will you get home?” you ask quietly.

“I parked by the cafe, it isn’t far.”

“Oh…” The lights from your building paint him the faintest shade of pink. Your breath fogs out in front of you, as does his, and the warmth of walking will soon fade. “I–“

“Here,” he says, handing you the flowers again.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Fits the recipient.”

It takes a second for you to get it. Oh, you think. You can hardly feel the cold now. Your heart hurts, and you’re begging him to want to take a step toward you. The silence goes for too long.

“I– I’d love to see you again,” you say. Love comes out funny. Maybe because you can feel his rejection coming.

“I won’t be here next week. Not for a long time. We’re touring properly, now.” He scratches the side of his face.

“Right. Right, of course you are. Um, good luck with that. And thank you for tonight, for dinner.” You wave your flowers weakly.

He looks at you. He takes a half step toward you. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“You really are pretty,” he says finally. “Goodnight.”

He smiles quick and turns quicker. You watch him walk a few steps but ultimately can’t face it, pushing into the foyer of your building with a hardset frown. Your hands shake, minute abstractions of the sharp rejection panging in your chest. Your ears roar and then go quiet. What did I do wrong? you think, shocked and upset and trying to rationalise. He doesn’t have to kiss you. He asked you out on a maybe, and now whatever question he had is answered.

The door creaks open. You spin on your heel, too wrapped up to think about hiding your expression. Remus stands in the doorway of the porch, his arm pressed to the glass panel, the other held out to you.

"Come here," he says quietly. It isn't a question, but he's asking.

You step into his reach, letting him pull you by the waist against his chest. He leans down until his nose glances against ýours, and he starts to say something. You push your chin up in your eagerness and he doesn't try again. He kisses you, once, contrite, and he pulls back and his hand clasps your arm tight as he ducks in for another. His lips are fast to lose the cold of the weather, but his tongue is a hot shock at the seam of your own.

You go weak in his arms. The flowers between you crunch and smother themselves. You can’t think about it. Your hands are numb. He takes over every one of your senses until you’re more kiss than thought, reciprocating his slow, deep searching. You run out of breath.

He eases you backward, cupping the side of your head in his big palm.

“I want to see you again,” he says hoarsely. “But I– I don’t know when I’ll be back.” His hand adjusts against your cheek, like he’s worried you’re slipping out of his hold. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can wait,” you say.

“I couldn’t ask you to.”

You rub your buzzing lips together, each heaven of your chest marked by the crinkling sound of cellophane.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” you ask.

He strokes the edge of your mouth with his thumb. “Are you sure?”

You kiss him. You don’t know if this will work, any of it, the broad stroke or this one night, but you want him.

—

Remus doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows how to fuck somebody, that isn’t the problem. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with you. The same thing that made him walk away had pulled him right back in, had him skipping steps on the staircase up to your flat, drinking in the back of your head and roll of your shoulders as you’d made apologies for the mess inside.

He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s with you. He thinks of it like this — what he is, his pain, his wants, that’s all set in stone. Any change is an erosion, and little by little over the years he’s managed to whittle himself down into the smallest, cleanest version of himself. Then suddenly the band’s making money, people are listening to his voice on the radio in countries all over the world, and he can’t hide anymore. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, after all. What else inspires a performer into the spotlight? The music, he thinks desperately, knowing it’s half a lie.

Isn’t it why he’d asked you to the show? Come and watch me sing. See me at my most impressive. My most curated.

And now he’s following you into your bedroom after one date, about to strip it all away.

“You didn’t have too much wine, did you?” he asks. You hadn’t really finished your first glass, but it won’t hurt to make sure.

You peel your jacket off and drop it over the back of a wide armchair. “I don’t think so. Did you?”

“No.” His head has never been this clear.

He thinks about what you said. This is your first date, and he’s not clueless enough to assume that never going on a date means never having sex, but he wants to be careful with you anyway. He wants this to last beyond a dinner date.

Which means he has to get out of his head.

Beyond all of his own mess, he really does think you're pretty. More than pretty. You’re beautiful, and your voice…

He wants to see what other sounds you make.

Remus gets his hands on you. Soft touches, his hands coasting from your elbows to your warming hands. He squeezes your fingers, leaning in for a quick kiss. He rests his nose against the skin beneath your eye. “Tell me if it’s too much?” he asks, a murmur of hot air.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go slowly.”

“Okay.” Your voice is barely audible.

He pulls away to make sure you’re alright, and is surprised to see a glassy sheen in your eyes. He holds your face in both hands and works your lips open against his, guiding you backwards into the plush of your poorly made bed. He’s all sweet touches and eager kisses, cautious not to hurt you, or let too much of his weight press against your soft torso. His kisses follow to the corner of your mouth, the tip of his nose tender against your cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he says. He isn’t complaining, but he wants to hear your voice.

“I’m a bit preoccupied.”

He laughs into your skin, kissing down to your jaw. “You’re right,” he says, revelling in the goosebumps that rise under his hands.

Your shaking inhales cleave a pit in his stomach. He mouths at the side of your neck, half-kisses, tiny warning nips before he thumbs open the first button of your shirt. He meanders, dropping a path crescent moon kisses into your front until the fabric of your bra gets in the way. The soft hill of your breast staggers to a halt beneath him. He can tell that you’re holding deliberately still.

Kisses. You need more kisses, an absolution from any lingering nervousness. Your hands thread into his hair gently, your fingers raking wavy strands behind his ears as you give in. You melt into your sheets, your legs parting from the pressure of his hips.

Your hands fall from his hair to needle between your two bodies and undo the rest of your buttons. The fabric falls aside, your chest and tummy his to catalogue. He drops his hand against your stomach, smoothing a line down to your slacks. His lips ache against yours as he asks, “Can I?”

“Please.”

He smiles at your daunted expression. “Can I take these off?” he asks you, his fingertip running under the edge of your underwear. “Please?” he teases.

Your skin is a furnace, hot hot hot everywhere he touches as you nod your permission and Remus undresses you, one piece of clothing at a time. Your trousers, your shirt. Your bra, your underwear. His fingers slip in his ardency as he tears out of his own button down.

Your thumb traces a scar.

He looks up from your chest, startled, but you aren’t giving him anything he doesn’t want. There’s no pity in your gaze, no curiosity, no sadness. Just lust, your trembling hands pulling his slacks down the lengths of his thighs.

He pulls the condom from his wallet in his pocket and lets it fall to the floor.

Remus hooks his hands under your arms and urges you back against the headboard, a pillow behind your head, your thighs tipping open as his hand runs down between them. He grabs at them greedily, handfuls of fat that have his mouth dry as a bone.

“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks. He needs to know.

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head.

Fuck. “Hey, look at me,” he says, waiting for your eyes to meet before continuing. “I just want to make you feel good. If I don’t, you let me know.”

He waits for you to answer aloud. “I will,” you say, your hand behind his back and urging him forward. “Please.”

“What did I say?” he jokes gently, letting his weight bear down on you again.

He closes his eyes, his lips in what feels like a new home at the juncture of your neck. His hands skirt dangerously close to your heat.

He’s gentle. He rubs a sweeping line against your cunt with the front of his fingers, heart hammering fast as a mouse’s when he finds the little button of your clit. You shiver and shudder and squirm as he toys with you, your fingers steadfast against the plane of his back while he opens you up. His lips part in tandem, not nearly as kind as his hands. His teeth scratch against your throat.

Your soft moans move through him as he hickeys over your pulse, chasing each capering thud of blood. He winds you up. You’re snug around his fingers, fluttering, and he knows he’s probed something sweet when your breath catches and you whine.

“Was that alright?” he asks.

You nod, heavy headed, and lick your lips as he tears open the condom and eases it onto his cock, one measured roll at a time.

“Can you– I want you to–” You turn your face from him, the line of your jaw kissed by the lamplight outside, and the rest hidden.

He drags you down to lay flat on your back and holds himself over you, nudging his nose against yours until you lift your head. Face to face, he gives himself time to adore the shape and colour of your eyes, the side of his hand brushing along your cheek. “Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sincerely. The slickness between your legs is obvious, but he doesn’t want to blindside you. “It will feel…”

You nod, saving him the explanation. It will feel weird. Good, but foreign. “Will you kiss me again?” you ask feebly.

He can’t stop himself. He kisses your lips sore, his hand behind the crook of your knee pushing your leg up toward your stomach as he slides into the space he’s made there. He breaks the kiss to listen to your breathing as he pushes forward.

Remus hadn’t been lying — he wants it to feel good. He takes it slow, his thrusting almost languid as you get to grips with the feeling. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, struggling to smother the moan that escapes him as he feels you clench around him. You gasp, your arms tightening around his waist, destroying any semblance of space between your sweat-damp bodies as you hold him tight. He murmurs praises in your ear, his forearms tucked beneath your shoulder blades, hands gripping your shoulders a touch too hard. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to somebody, can’t remember ever feeling so maddeningly lost, like he’s one good push from hurtling over the edge.

He kisses your cheek, calling you all the things he’d been too scared to say before. “Lovely girl,” he pants, “how’s that feel?” And, when you answer, “Yeah, you’re taking it so well, dove. Think you can take a little more?”

All that nervousness and desperation shrinks down to dust, and the smiling girl he’d been with at dinner comes to the forefront. There’s no mistaking it. You giggle something awful and turn your face into his, kissing him between sounds, dizzying him with the tender scratch of your nails down his back as he starts to move.

“There she is,” he says lightly, almost smirking. “Feel good?”

“Feels– oh,” —you shiver violently, filled all the way up— “feels good.”

Remus let’s his forehead fall to your chin, his eyes closed in pleasure, his cock to the hilt. Every move he makes evokes a near sinful sound from you, mewling, silvery whimpers and pleased little laughs when he angles his hips right. He’s a mess, desperate to cum from the second you touched him and running on stolen time as he presses you deep into your mattress. One of your hands flies backward into the pillows and scrunches up into a ball, the look on your face too tempting to ignore.

The first time you fuck someone — it’s never timed right. Remus knows he hasn’t quite figured you out, but he knows enough to get you where he wants you. He slides his hand between your bodies and your soft cunt to draw circles into your clit, entranced by your twitching lashes as the pleasure builds. You chase him with your hips, and he grabs your hand at the last second to stop you from covering your mouth, holding it above your head as you come apart.

He cooes at you. The sound you make — the breathless little cry that leaves you, your hips jutting up to meet him. He’s at your mercy, just like he said.

Remus fucks into the extra tightness, drawing your climax out for as long as he can. You’re smiling as you shove his arm away, a playful chastisement that wanes when you see the look on his face. “Are you close?” you ask, brushing a curled strand of hair from his eyes.

Close? Remus is fucked.

“You can go faster,” you say, “rougher, whatever you want.”

“Shit,” he hisses, leaning back.

His rutting hips slap the backs of your thighs. He squeezes your waist, his eyes fixed on your cunt as it pulls him in. One last wavering, “Oh, fuck,” from you is all it takes for Remus to lose it. White hot pleasure tightens his whole body, his abdomen aflame. You scramble to gather him back into your arms. You kiss him, swallowing his resulting string of moans.

He has to catch his breath afterward. You comb the hair back from his face, your eyes droopy with pleasure.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice stringy.

“Of course not.” You’re quickly losing your confidence. Remus hates it, but he understands. This vulnerability can only stretch so far.

“Let me clean you up,” he says.

“You look like you’re gonna fall over if you stand.”

He strokes your face with the back of his ring finger, his nail ghosting along the highest point of your cheek. “Funny,” he says dryly.

He gets confused in your bathroom, and you won’t let him towel you off, but when he lies down beside you with his boxers back in place you don’t push him away. You drop your face into his chest and curl up.

He drags the quilt over your naked back.

Was that okay? he wants to ask. “Sore?” he worries instead.

“Don’t think so.”

He chews his cheek. “You’re alright?”

You stir, looking up at him through your lashes. He thinks you’re the kind of pretty people might not always see. You’re clearly beautiful, but there’s something else to it. The way you move, maybe. The way your eyes smile before your lips can catch up.

“I’m fine. I’m good… Can I…”

He hums. “What?”

“Could I kiss you again?”

You speak so quietly, he hears the vibration in your throat more than the sound of your voice. It’s endearingly timid. He feels his attraction for you flare violently.

He wants to ask you to come with him to Cardiff. He knows he can’t. It’s yards too soon, but for a second he entertains the thought.

“Wait for me to come home,” he says. He’s still asking for more than he should. “I want to see you again. You can kiss me as much as you want, if you say you’ll wait.”

You nod immediately. Not a flicker of reluctance to be seen.

You lift your chin and kiss him. He tries to make it the kind of kiss worth waiting for.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging cos it helps more than you might think <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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sage-nebula · 1 year

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Neat Lore Bits from 'The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog'

I just wanted to make a little list of everything I come across as I play through this little April Fool's Day game, because it's super cute and so much fun.

— Tails always carries Sparkle Gelatin as a snack whenever he travels. It's "a sparkly jelly that can melt any jaded heart."

— Sonic is world renowned, but not necessarily recognizable by the average person, even if the average person knows who he is and what he did.

— Amy is a huge fan of true crime podcasts.

— Once when Tails was at the grocery store, he slipped on some spilled juice because there wasn't a wet floor sign. Sonic caught him . . . but then also slipped on the juice because he was running too fast, and they both crashed into an elderly shopper's cart.

— Not lore per se, but both the detective and the journalist can't be the murderer or victim of the murder mystery, and got to hang out together for the hour before the game starts. Amy picked Tails to be the detective to her journalist, meaning she wanted to spend that time with him. Awww, Sunset Squad 4 Life 💖🧡

— Blaze prefers the birthday cake in Sonic's dimension to the cake in her own.

— Amy has multiple Piko Piko Hammers for different uses. She carries a lighter one when she thinks she won't need one for the day.

— Shadow is familiar with Super Monkey Ball, but can't get a very high score on it. Also, he signs high score boards as ULTIM (for Ultimate Life Form)

— Knuckles is not used to receiving compliments; they make him blush.

— Knuckles is a sore loser and breaks game cabinets when he can't get the highest score.

— Omochao is wanted for medical malpractice.

— Eggman has written a combined autobiography and recipe book.

— Tails claims to have never played in casinos and to not know how to play card games despite stating that he is banned from casinos for counting cards in Sonic Heroes. Either Sega has decided to retcon Tails' gambling habits, or Tails doesn't like to share his gambling habits with strangers.

— Amy's favorite band is Hot Honey, and Hot Honey band member Jeremy Bee is her current favorite musician.

— Shadow is not good with computers.

— Espio is fluent in 17 languages.

— Espio once speed-read a book just to spoil the ending for Knuckles.

— Sonic believes in the "salt over the shoulder" superstition.

— Sage the A.I. likes to play with robots.

— Shadow likes chocolate cake.

— Sage the A.I. and Metal Sonic have "let's go dad" t-shirts.

— Eggman has rubber ducks that look like himself and Sonic; they are the angry rubber duck and the happy rubber duck respectively.

#the murder of sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #tails the fox #amy rose #unbreakable bond #sunset squad #blaze the cat #shadow the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #espio the chameleon #sage robotnik #metal sonic #dr eggman #sth

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cafe-smut · 14 days

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I need. Twisted Beastmen and the like. To be more animalistic. Not necessarily like, physically, I don't meant that in the furry sense. I mean that in the 'they're part animal and it'd not just for show' sense.

I want beastmen with claw like nails. Where the cat-like ones tend to walk on their toes when not wearing shoes because it feels right. Where their eyes and pupils reflect the animals that they're partly of. With fangs and teeth appropriate for their species.

Ruggie making laughing noises at the active prospect of food. Whooping when in a fight and needing backup. Lowing when excited for a fight.

Leona roaring to get the whole dorm's attention. Chuffing in greeting at people he considers part of his pride. (He'll sometimes grunt at Cheka like a mother would to her cubs but will deny it.)

Jack barking at danger to warn others and howling to try and figure out where his pack is (he forgets they can't howl back, but Ruggie will sometimes low at him and Yuu definitely tries to howl back.)

I want to see Azul with the tips of his limbs in human form retain some of his octopus natural ability to camouflage. I want to see his hands always moving, grabbing something, holding something. Azul who might not have bones in human form with how flexible he is??

The tweels who aren't very active naturally during the day but get really hyperactive at night. Who bare their teeth at people when excited.

Che'nya who lounges in the sun on lazy days. Who's great at stretching and popping everywhere in his body if he needs to, to a concerning degree.

GIMME FEY WHO DONT ACT HUMAN

Malleus who snorts smoke when he's angry. Malleus who wear gloves because he got claws. Malleus who has a tail and wings outside of his dragon form sometimes.

Lilia who gets just a bit too excited at the prospect of a fight and spilling blood. Who can recognize a person by the smell of their blood. Who makes inhuman noises when too excited and gives off a very eldritch horror kind of vibe if he lets loose.

Sebek who can be found eating rocks sometimes. Who finds quiet in thunder and lightning. Who can move so smoothly and silently you don't know he's there until he opens his maw. Who has a lot of really sharp teeth for someone with a human mouth.

Just- gimme some animal, like, REALISM. PLEASE.

#twisted wonderland #twst malleus #twst ruggie #twst leona #twst lilia #twst headcanons #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst jack #twst jade #twst floyd #twst azul #twst sebek

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warnersister · 16 days

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Personal Space (two Bradshaws like it now)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: A sequel in which you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space. Even more so now you’ve had a baby, apparently.

Can be read as a part 2, but doesn’t have to be. Read Personal Space here

You really didn’t know when it all happened, when you and Bradley became a thing. At first he was just an annoying crew member you couldn’t shake off your tail. Then he was your wingman. Then you got accidentally placed into marriage accommodation and the two of you played it off so you could get better housing. Then you actually bought a house. And then somewhere along the way you got married.

“Where shall we have the wedding?” Bradley asked and you raised a brow “register office” you shrug “what you don’t want a wedding?” He asks, hand on his chest as he feigns offence. “You do?” You ask and he nods vigorously. You huff. “Fine” “so shall we do it on the beach?” He asks “okay” you just go along with it, hardly even entertaining the idea at all.

“So? What do you think?” Nat asks as she makes you pivot in a white gown “I think I look like a roll of toilet paper” you said, crossing your arms “maybe it’s just not the dress for you?” She reasons and you shake your head “just not really into the whole idea of this wedding. I kinda thought we’d just sign papers and get on with it” you said “well you picked Bradshaw, he’s a drama queen at the best of times” she says and you him in agreement; your consultant leading you back to the fitting rooms “let’s try another”.

You’d left with a sleeved dress; hating the idea of having a low cut dress, and begging Nat to just let you leave. Sure, you loved the dress - but you loved the idea of getting out of that suffocating shop more.

“Hey honey” Bradley had said, hearing you walk into the house and set your keys on the kitchen counter. “Hi” you reply shortly, moving to fill your cup with water from the sink. “How was your day?” He asked, moving to rest his head on your shoulder and holding you from behind. “Good. Bought a wedding dress” you say simply “you did what?!”

Then on your wedding day, you’d stared at yourself in the mirror far too long. “You look gorgeous” Penny whispers, squeezing your shoulders comfortingly “I look like a fucking pin up doll” you huff, not necessarily believing yourself - just not used to being such a central perspective of attention. “Wow” your dad says, walking into the room “you look gorgeous” he whispers “is there an echo in here?” You mumble, but smile at him “thank you” you say, wiping the tears from under his eyes. “C’mon, Bradley’s nearly about to come get you himself”

You showed up to the beach-front wedding right on time, completely dead against the idea of being in any way, shape, or form late. Your father gave you away, Bradley in floods of tears at the end of the isle by the time you’d gotten there. “You look incredible” he whispers, lips quivering as he stares at you “shut up you’re going to make me cry.” You grumble, but smile. “It’s okay to cry.” He says, as the ceremony begins. “You may now kiss your bride” and Bradley dipped you and kissed you sweetly, drowning out the cheers of those around you. “I love you, Bradshaw.” You say, smally, “I love you more, sweetheart” he says and kisses your forehead “you’re crying” he points out “shut up”

And then you looked at the two lines on the pregnancy test two years later. You hummed “okay” and looked at yourself in the mirror, knowing nothing else other than the fact that you had to tell Bradley right that second. You marched downstairs, where he was sat playing with some keys on the piano you’d bought him last Christmas, stopping next to him. “Hey baby, y’alright?” He asked, and you just held out the stick to him. “What’s this?” He asks, taking it from you and looking over it once. “You serious?” He asked, looking at you; smile growing from ear to ear “you’re pregnant?” He almost whispers “unless the other four lied.” you say and he jumps up and pulls you into his arms, kissing all over your face until you shouted at him to stop.

He knelt down and looked at your stomach, kissing it gently then moving to put his ear against it “uh huh” he hummed “Bradley what are you-” “shush I’m talking to em” he says and you stand, unimpressed, but let him nonetheless. “Oh yeah baby, I’m excited to meet you too” he coos “yeah, yeah, I’m your dad” and you audibly giggle. He looks up at you, eyes wide “you done?” You ask and he nods “yeah little one was done talking” he smiles, and hugs you close again. “I need to get the baby clothes out of the attic” he mumbles, kissing your temple “the what?” You ask “I bought them when we started renting the house!” He says, dragging you excitedly up the stairs “but we own the house, Brad” you him “no, no, the one we had during the mission!” He says and you gasp internally, realising how long the two of you had been together without even noticing it.

“Hey dad” you say, as you and Bradley head into the hangar he and you owned “hey honey, hey Brad” your dad greets, wiping the oil from his hands to come over and talk to the two of you. He kissed your forehead and hugged you, then your husband before walking back over to the aircraft he was working on. “Thought you needed a new picture for your pinboard” you hum “oh? I just added the wedding photo!” He says, excitedly, showing you the filled gap. “Okay, guess you don’t want the sonogram of your grandchild.” You say, turning to head out before Bradley hurriedly grabbed you and turned you back into the situation, pulling the strip of photos from his breast pocket. Your dad stood with his jaw wide open “you’re-” he breathes “you’re really pregnant?” He asks as his eyes well with tears “well I wouldn’t lie-” you say but he just pulls you into a big bear hug, pinning Baby Bradshaw’s picture onto his board.

You head to go look at the part of the engine your dad couldn’t quite fix while Bradley held back with Maverick. He turns to him and shakes his hand “your dad would’ve been so proud.” He says, smiling at Bradley “I know you are.” Rooster smiles, wordlessly being pulled into a hug with his father-in-law.

Then one evening you were sat up in bed, Bradley sound asleep beside you as you look down at the barely visible bump. Bradley had sort of a sixth sense, somehow knowing you weren’t asleep beside him. “Hey, baby what’s up?” He croaks, immediately moving to sit up with you when he sees his senses were correct. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Bradley.” You say, staring ahead at the wall “what do you mean?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I mean I’m a fighter pilot, I was raised by a single father, I never had that maternal instinct, what am I doing?” You whisper, and when Bradley managed to finally pull your face towards him you were crying “oh sweetheart” he hums, pulling you into him gently “you’re gonna be the best momma ever, and the fact that you worry proves that. I love you, okay?” He comforts “I know. I love you too.”

You were stubborn the whole pregnancy. You thought it was ridiculous that people just stopped when they were pregnant, and Bradley was trailing you trying anything to get you to just relax. “Hen, please!” He begs as you head out for your morning run “I’m three months pregnant, Bradley. I’m not incompetent.” You snap, as he begrudgingly pulls on his running shoes and follows you out the door. He pulled you back anytime you went quicker than a 10 minute mile “Bradley, if you slow me down one more time I’m going to pull your arm out of your socket” you snap and he holds his hands up “message received.”

Then one day, at around the sixth month mark you walked into the house and slammed the door so hard it rattled. “What’s up?” Bradley asked, as you practically threw your stuff on the floor. “They’re putting me on the desk.” You grumble, anger evident in your eyes while his soften “oh baby we knew that was gonna happen” he soothes, rubbing your arm reassuringly “no! No we didn’t! I was perfectly fine hiding the bump, but no!” You huff “I’m Bradley Bradshaw and all of California has to know my wife’s pregnant!” You imitate him but he just smirks “oh I’m so sorry that everyone needs to know you’re taken and carrying my baby” he says, smugly. “Don’t you smile at me Bradley-” you wag an accusatory finger at him, but he heaves you over his shoulder, and towards the stairs “c’mon, let’s help you blow off some steam” he reasons “y’know it’s possible to get pregnant while pregnant, right?” You ask and he cheers “woohoo! Two for one deal, sounds great!” He says and you can’t help but smile.

Then came your maternity leave, Bradley picked you up in his bronco. You were quick to head outside, and he kinda hated how well you hid the bump. “I’m done.” You huff, settling into the seat beside him “if that bitch from accounting asks me one more time if I want her herbal teas I’m going to knock her teeth out” you complain and Bradley chuckles “well, just me, you and Baby Bradshaw now” he says and you hum in agreement.

But when you approached your street, you rolled straight past your house and straight to the Hard Deck ‘congratulations on your baby’ banners plastered all over “welcome to our baby shower!” Bradley grins as you pull up “is this really necessary? They aren’t even here yet.” You tell him and he shrugs “thought it might take your mind off maternity leave” you smile at him “thanks, Brad”

And at one point in the evening, you sat Natasha and Bob down separately. “Hey Phoenix, can we borrow you?” Brad asked, pulling her away from her conversation “yeah of course guys!” You took a seat at a table and Bradley forced you to elevate your feet against your will. “What’s up?” She asks “how’d you like to be godmother to little Bradshaw?” Her eyes lit up when Bradley asked and she leant over the table to hug the two of you “oh I’d love too!” She announces, excitedly.

Then you head over to Bob, but Phoenix holds Rooster back “they have a special connection, let her do this”. You sit on the stool next to Bob and he offers you some peanuts which you refuse, and you stay sat in silence for a minute. “Bob can I ask you something?” You ask, as he pulls your calves up to rest in his lap “of course, hen” he says, brushing some crumbs off his top “what’s up?” “Well, the job we’re in isn’t an old job” you say and he laughs and agrees “it’s also dangerous” you say, and again - he nods. “So if anything happens to me and Brad, can you be there for little Bradshaw?” His eyes widen and start to swell with tears “will you be our godfather?” You ask and he nods, moving to miss your cheek “of course I will, hen. I’d be honoured.”

Bradley and you had started putting together your hospital bag at the 8 month mark. You were both premature so had a bit of superstition, especially with only being a few weeks off of the 40 mark. You’d placed the bag by the front door, along with a baby carrier in the middle seat of his Bronco.

It was week 38 when you were both putting together the crib beside your bed, two spare bedrooms and still you only wanted your baby beside you. “Okay all done, baby” your husband said “okay. My water broke three minutes ago” you say as calmly as he had, he nods, then whips his head back round “your water broke?” He asks and looks down, and indeed, your water had broken “oh my god your water broke?!” He announced, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out to the bronco, picking the hospital bag up on the way. “Ready to have a baby?” He asks, giddily. “Am I supposed to be?” You ask and he shakes his head with a smile “no”

You were dead silent during birth and it scared the shit out of Bradley. “Do you want an epidural, honey? They’ve offered-” “no.” “Can I get you more ice?” “No.” And he tried everything, even when it was time to push. You held his hand and your mouth was zipped shut. “Is she supposed to be this quiet?” He asked the doctor who just looked at him nonchalantly “it’s normal, all mothers react differently to birth” he said. “I’m a fighter pilot Bradley. I’ve had worse.” You grit. “Breathe baby” he tells you “I think you need to.” You say “stop being dramatic” you say as you push again “honey-” “either shut up or get out.” You tell him and he glues his mouth shut, at least until the baby comes.

Bradley cuts the chord and they hand you your baby, and your eyes widen as you stare at the baby on your chest “welcome to the world Nick Bradshaw” you coo at the baby and Bradley raised his brows “Nick?” He asks, voice cracking “what? Got a problem with that? You and your stupid dick” you grumble and Bradley laughs and shakes his head, kissing your forehead.

“Hey mom, shall we take baby so you can get some rest?” The nurse asked, leaning to take Nick from your arms “excuse me?” You asked, pulling your baby closer. “So you can sleep?” She suggests “I’ve carried him for nine months and now he’s here you’re taking him away?” You ask “well, some mothers like to sleep” “I can sleep when I’m dead.” You deadpan, and she realised that Nick wouldn’t have been pried from your hands even if you were dead, so she left you all alone.

“Taking you away from mommy? Who does she think she is?” You whisper to baby Nick. “Welcome back to the world, Bradshaw.” You say and Bradley can only smile and hold the two of you close.

You’re going to be just fine in this mommy role.

——————————

Part 2-ish? I know it was really well liked and I enjoyed writing it so hope you enjoy this one too!

-> @rosiahills22 here’s another one!

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 month

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V ║Raw Edge

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part IV: Notch | Behind the Seams: Part V | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, a proper E!

Summary: One lazy afternoon, Joel tests your patience.

Warnings: Sexual tension, some language, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, flirting, fingering, explicit grinding, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 2k

Notes: It's been a long and winding road y'all, but I'm finally back with an update on the main series. It is a short one, more of an interlude, but it will get us where we need to go for the next chapter. Thank you for your patience, I don't take you guys' understanding and love for granted for even a second. Releasing this during the Seams sleepover, more drabbles coming your way for the remaining month of March!

Raw edge - the raw, raveling, and unfinished, cut edge of the fabric.

It’s fitting that Joel is a patient man. He’s built for it, after all.

Those broad shoulders, the sturdy thighs, his sure hands - he’s steadfast as the mountains that loom over Jackson.

As the sun shifts over the ridges and valleys of the sierra through the seasons, bringing shadows into light, so does Jackson on Joel, and you learn that he’s many kinds of patient.

On lookout duty, even in the depths of winter, he becomes one with the stillness of the night, patiently watching over the safety of the town in the loneliest hours.

When townsfolk stop him on the high street for neighbourly chit chat, he obliges with polite patience, never rushing, but careful not to encourage conversation that is longer than necessary.

With Ellie, when she prattles on with a long-winded story from school, he listens with amused patience, letting her run her half-full mouth over dinner with half-hearted admonishment.

And with you - he is agonisingly patient with you, and yet, never in a way that leaves any doubt of his want for you.

You cannot be more grateful.

And in turn, you’re patient with him. As the green of summer softens with the tail end of the season, you pick up bits and pieces. You hear whispers of names. Tess. Bill. You glimpse ghosts of his past. Sarah. Frank.

You don’t expect him to, but you have the audacity to hope, that one day, if he finds it in him to let you in, you have shoulders to spare.

When the heat fades and the brisk autumnal chill starts to linger in the morning mist, you start to find that you like it when he’s not patient.

Not necessarily for the lack of patience thereof, but the fact that it’s worn thin by something else.

The way heat bleeds into his eyes when Lucy holds you up after your shift ends, fingers twitching, as if the caveman in him wants to grab you and drag you home, where you have planned on dinner - and more.

When you’re two bodies tangled in your sheets, breath short as he kisses his way down your neck and nips the underside of your breasts, bra cups pushed up only halfway because you’re still too shy to take it off completely. You feel him shudder, nails digging into your skin, nostrils flaring like he’s holding back from ripping the scant fabric off of you.

And late one evening, when you ask him for it, in heated whispers and your lower lip caught in your teeth, he oh so patiently works his fingers inside your wet heat -

One, then two;

Slow, then fast;

Tender, then frantic -

Until he feels you clench tight around the crook of his fingers for the first time, watch you arch clean off the bed, he bares his teeth and lets out a primal growl at the cry of his name on your swollen lips.

You find the thrill in getting under Joel Miller’s skin.

As the fall deepens, and trees start to shed in golden surrender, you’re caught off guard when he turns the table on you.

You don’t see it coming, your desperation, that lazy afternoon. It’s just another Saturday when Ellie is on her shift at the Outfitter with Lucy, and Joel is spending those free hours with you.

You’re not sure what got him into the mood, but the man is relentlessly teasing that afternoon, almost bratty in the way he toys with you. His hands go everywhere while you’re cooking, squeezing the swell of your ass then going north to cup your breasts, and stopping off everywhere in between.

Tips of your ears burning, you smack the back of his hands - so big and mapped with veins - just so you can get drain the pasta. Joel chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth. ‘I like it when you’re bossy, sweetheart.’

He insists on eating on the sofa, with you between his legs, and you can feel him already hard and straining through his jeans. Neither of you really make a real go at the rapidly cooling marinara, and the plates are quickly pushed to the side as them meal degenerates into a full-blown make out session.

Not yet ready to let him strip you bare or for him to disrobe him completely, clothes hang half unbuttoned and unzipped on you both. The part of your brain that still has enough blood to reason likes it though - the demure flashes of skin under creased fabric, blindly touching and feeling where you can’t see.

Your jeans are pushed halfway down your thighs, bra pushed down under your breasts, the elastic straps digging into your shoulders. His shirt is open down to the second last button, bare chest rubbing against your nipples, the contact making you whine. His belt hangs open and his jeans are unzipped, but before you can reach down, his fingers slide inside your panties, twisted and sticky, teasing your wet folds.

‘Joel,’ you whimper as he pushes two thick fingers inside you to the knuckle, your pussy slickly opening around him.

‘Does that feel good, sweetheart?’ he asks, mouthing at your collarbone.

‘More,’ you gasp.

‘I got two in you already -’

Your voice cracks in a sob, your nails digging into his back. ‘Joel, I want more. Please.’

He glances at the clock ticking away on the wall and hesitates. The rational part of him knows that he has to leave in less than twenty minutes to pick up Ellie. But feeling you leak onto his fingers, pushing your hips against him to get his fingers even deeper, his cock twitches painfully hard in his pants.

He breathes through his nose to steady himself. ‘Sweetheart, we don’t have time -‘

‘Joel!’ you whine, almost petulantly.

He stares down at you, eyes wide at your desperation. He’s never seen you like this before, and fuck, he wants to give it to you. Wants to give you what you want, what he wants. What he’s wanted for long fucking months, woken up hard and throbbing dreaming about. But he steels himself - no, not when he’s on the clock, he won’t rush it. He will give you what you deserve, and not an ounce less.

So he kisses you, long and deep, and bargains with you. ‘Listen, sweetheart, we can’t right now - but if you want to, we can try something new.’

‘Ok,’ you reply without hesitation.

A sharp breath catches in your throat when he eases his fingers out of you, and he brings them up to his mouth to lick them clean, his brow furrowing at your taste, thick on his tongue. Then you watch, transfixed, as he pushes his unzipped jeans down with his boxers, kicking them off his ankles - and his hard cock springs free of its confines.

It’s taken you many months to drum up the bravery to map his body with your touch, and you’ve mostly done so in the safety of darkness, your shyness holding you back. To see all of him, jutting hard and thick in the stark afternoon light, you don’t even hear yourself whimper at the sight.

Joel holds your gaze as he slowly wraps his fingers around the swollen length and strokes himself, lips parted, watching you watch him. ‘You trust me, sweetheart?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gonna make you feel good, ok?’

His words make you squirm beneath him. ‘Ok.’

Grabbing the base of his cock, Joel shifts, looming over you and pushing your thighs apart so they’re bent at the knees to accommodate him. Then with a delicate finger, he traces under the seat of your panties and pulls them to one side, baring your spread pussy to his eyes.

Your jaw goes slack the same time Joel bites out a filthy fuck. You know this is the first time he’s laying eyes on you there - you’ve been demure about that, preferring to be nose-to-nose with him while he buries his fingers inside you. But now, watching his eyes go black, nostrils flaring, an inexplicable high goes to your head, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

His eyes fly to yours, and your lips part. Did he see that?

Before you can find out, Joel moves, and you hold your breath when he bows his head right where your legs are splayed open. Distracted by the beautiful chisel of his nose from this angle, you would’ve jumped right off the couch if not for his hands holding you in place when he dribbles spit onto your clit.

You cry out wordlessly, not understanding the visceral reaction of your body to the unexpectedly lewd act.

‘You’re plenty wet for me sweetheart, but this will feel even better,’ he says, spitting again, lower this time, and you tremble at the unfamiliar sensation of the wetness trailing down your folds.

Tracing a thumb over you, Joel makes a low noise of satisfaction in his chest when it glides over your lips, frictionless. Taking a hold of the base of his cock, he positions the underside of his length in the seam of your folds - and thrusts.

‘Joel!’ you whimper as the full length of him glides over the lips of your spit-wet pussy, from entrance to clit. He braces himself over you, and you hang onto his impossibly broad shoulders as he carefully rolls his hips, again and again. Rubbing along you just so, making sure you feel all of him despite not being inside you - that will have to wait.

You can feel your panties getting wetter, sticking to your skin, and Joel jolts a gasp from you when he roughly tugs the fabric hard to the side, baring more of you to his drunken gaze, witnessing the mess he’s making of you.

‘Listen t’ you,’ he slurs through gritted teeth, the lewd, wet slide of skin filling his ears. ‘Gonna sound even sweeter when I make you mine, sweetheart.’

With a whine, you arch off the couch, as if chasing the possessiveness in his words. Joel finds a rhythm that has the swollen head of his cock grinding against your clit with every thrust, and above you, he smears open-mouthed kisses over the secret spots he’s patiently unearthed by trial and error, until you’re shaking all over. It’s just what you needed, what you wanted - the elusive more that you didn’t know how to articulate. More than his fingers, but not yet ready to take everything that he can give you.

‘You’re close,’ Joel says, a quiet confidence to his verdict that coaxes a whine out of you. Holding a thumb over his cock, it presses even harder against your clit. His hips quicken in pace, and you know he’s chasing his own release as much as yours.

‘It’s ok sweetheart, you can let go, let me feel you cum for me, let me feel that pretty pussy -’

And then you’re gone. Any illusion of control over your body is just that, an illusion, when the bubble bursts. White hot pleasure burns through your bloodstream, tendrils of heat blooming and swelling from deep inside you, spilling out your fingertips twisted tightly into his graying curls.

Over the rush of blood in your ears, you hear Joel stutter fuck, fuck, fuck! before warm cum gushes over you, pooling in your belly button, spilling down your pussy and streaking your thighs.

Limbs heavy and eyelids drooping, it’s hard to care when the cum stains your panties or the couch below. Not when Joel wraps his arms around you, lips brushing the nape of your neck softly as he brackets you from behind.

Clinging onto the last vestiges of consciousness, you murmur, ‘You have to pick up Ellie soon.’

He grunts. ‘The little punk can wait.’

You smile, struggling to feel apologetic that the teenager might be waiting a while as Joel’s breathing slows, whistling softly by your ear.

In the quiet aftermath, his words echo in your head.

When I make you mine.

Little does he know, he doesn’t have to - you’re already his.

Notes: Time has really flown by since the last main series update. I've gone through so many ups and downs since, and I really need to thank you guys for giving me the time to figure things out in terms of my writing and how this story will go!

As I mentioned in Behind the Seams: Part V, I have 2 more full length chapters planned for the main series. I don't know if there will be any more after that, but at the very least, I hope that I will be adding to the Seams universe through drabbles and oneshots. I wouldn't write off the possibility of more chapters to add to the main series if I find the inspiration.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter ❤️

#fuckyeahseams #seams v #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine

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ronwestbreeze · 3 months

Text

you're gonna go far | 7

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 9.5k

read on AO3

“Sully, pour that alcohol again and I will stab you.” You hissed, body flinching whenever he took the now bloodied rag and pressed it to your injured shoulder.

A faint smile flashed across his face, “S’not my first time dealing with whiny patients. You can try though.”

“Don’t challenge me, dickhead. I will do it.” You hissed which made him chuckle.

“I believe you.”

Once the blood was finally cleaned off your shoulder, he grabbed some bandages and began wrapping your shoulder up. At this point, there was an unnecessary closeness between you and Jake that you were far too aware of at the moment. He was close to the point where you could see the star-like freckles across his skin, the eyebrows that furrowed together in deep focus, and the way his lips moved ever so slightly as if he were talking and yet no words left past his lips. Just small murmurs here and there.

You didn’t necessarily mean to stare for so long. Especially not long enough for his yellow gaze to connect with yours. You were just too dazed to even gather yourself right now. Hell, your body wasn’t as guarded as it usually was whenever you were around Jake.

Fortunately for you, Jake didn’t bring attention to it. “This should hold up until you bring the body back to the compound.”

He examined your shoulder and studied your face—possibly for more injuries. In the back of your mind, you realized that this was the first time you didn’t feel as small next to Jake. Only because you were in your avatar’s body for the first time in front of Jake. It was slightly jarring to what you were used to but it brought you some type of comfort. At least he wasn’t large enough to where he could crush you as easily as a bug.

“How’d you know it was me?” You found yourself asking him quietly, ignoring the feeling of wanting to crawl into yourself with how intense and unwavering his gaze was on you.

“What?” His response came from the rumble in his chest, his tail swishing behind him slightly.

You finally leaned away from him, feeling your back pressed against the wall behind you. “For all you knew, I could’ve been a random avatar lost in the forest. How could you tell it was me?”

He seemed to get at what you were trying to imply rather quickly, “You think I wouldn’t have saved you if I had known it was you?”

“No. I think you’re a jackass not heartless.” You shrugged, bringing your knee up to your chest. Jake snorted and finally scooted away until his back hit the wall across from you. You pressed your lips into a thin line, “How the hell did I end up trapped in a shack with you of all people?”

“Ouch.” His legs were a little longer than yours, so he managed to stretch to your part of the wall. His thigh nudging yours slightly. It was a tight space. “Norm said you were pretty blunt.”

Thunder rolled by. So loud to the point where it was nearly startling if not for the quieter rumbles from earlier. The silence that settled between the both of you was both uncomfortable and tense. Like there were unspoken words that you were unaware of.

What else was there to say when it came to you and Jake? Frankly, being stuck in a shack with him wasn’t the ideal situation you wanted to be in right now. But what choice did you have?

“What were you thinking?” He then asked you with a frown. Ah, there it is. You let out a breath, your annoyance visible enough to make Jakes's scowl harden. “You could’ve been killed goin’ out there in that weather. Especially with all those fucking creatures.”

You raised a brow, “And yet, you’re here too. We both were pretty much almost killed.”

“I could’ve fought them off. I, unlike you, was trained to.” He tried hard to appear worried and pissed at the same time. It was quite impressive compared to the usual unreadable mask he always wore around you. “You shouldn’t have endangered yourself like that.”

“I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted you care so much.” You mumbled, taking out your now dirtied dagger and examining the dried blood on the blade. “Frankly when it comes to you, I’m deciding to go with the latter.”

Jake stared at you for a moment, a beat longer, and then shook his head with a short scoff.

Another silence settled between you. You should’ve been used to it by now, with all the times he’d come to visit the baby in the tank room. There were several instances where there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. But now?

You didn’t understand what could’ve been different. Sure, the proximity wasn’t ideal but that didn’t mean the tension had to be tripled tenfold.

Another clap of thundered shouted through the skies when you finally decided to break the silence this time, “What were those things anyway?”

Jake examined your knife—or more so the blood on it—before responding, “They call them palulukan. They’re possibly one of the most dangerous creatures here. Usually, we tend to avoid them. My first encounter with them wasn’t so pretty. You killed one, right?” Reluctantly, you nodded honestly. He sighed, “Fuck. I don’t know whether to be impressed or pissed. But I guess when it comes to you, I prefer the latter.”

The taunt was obvious—you rolled your eyes heavily at it—but you watched him for a moment. The pain in your shoulder now dwindling to a constant throb somewhat added to your now-growing irritation.

Jake noticed, “What?”

You shrugged, “You’re confusing and inconsistent. Is that only reserved for me because I’m human scum or are you always this way—”

“Human scum, huh?” Jake scoffed in disbelief. “I used to be human scum, remember? Same human scum that saved your ass—”

“But you’re not human anymore.” You said simply. A fact that Jake couldn’t deny—or accept considering the flinch he didn’t bother hiding on his face.

“That’s not…” Jake cut himself off, another wince crossing his features. “I’m always going to be human at the end of the day. Doesn’t matter what skin I wear.”

Gently, you pressed the back of your head against the wall, the sound of the rain growing louder as you did. “And you’re accepted despite that. You’re one of the people. You are their great warrior—what was it again? Toruk Makto? Did I pronounce that right?”

“Toruk Makto.” He corrected, not meeting your eyes.

“Mmm, yeah you still sound American as fuck when you say it so I’ll have to ask Neytiri.” You hummed earning a small glare from the man. You brought your other knee up to your chest while examining the bloodied dagger. It wasn’t red but black, from the palulukan. “We’re not the same, Sully. Not even the same species—”

“If I hate you, it’s not because you’re human.” Jake interrupted, running a hand over his face. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead when his hand sluggishly ruffled his hair up a bit. “Just as I know you don’t hate me because I’m Na’vi. I’m—I’m trying, okay? Is it so bad that I’m worried for your safety out of kindness? Would you rather I continue to be an asshole?”

“We tolerate each other at most.” You reminded him, beginning to feel the exhaustion catch up to you. “I don’t need you to worry about me. I have Norm for that. Other than that, I’m a big girl. I don’t need your or anyone else’s protection. I’ve been on my own for a while now. And I’ve dealt with a lot of shit. I’m not a rookie when it comes to this, Sully.” You sat up straighter, careful not to put any strain or pressure on your bandaged shoulder. “We’re colleagues. Let's start acting like it.”

Jake watched you for a moment. His face was restrained but not intense. Back to being guarded.

After a beat he allowed a small grin to tug at his lips, “Colleagues, huh? That’s progress I guess.”

“Progress from what?” You frowned. As far as you knew, that’s always been your relationship after you settled in on Pandora.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m walking on a bunch of landmines when I talk to you, you know.” Jake shifted a bit, that was when you noticed the subtle flinch of his body from the sudden movement. Drawing your attention to his body more so than his words. “I like to know that I’m at least on safe grounds once in and while. Believe it or not, Reeds, I don’t like fighting with you all the time—what are you doing?”

You had tucked your dagger away and went for grabbing the other med kit next to you and suddenly started crawling toward Jake, close enough so you could examine his body. But Jake grabbed your good arm—the one holding the med kit—and gave you a small glare, “You shouldn’t be moving—”

“Shut up, Sully, and let me look.” He blinked but reluctantly let go of your arm and allowed you to lean just a little bit closer. Carefully, you pressed your hand around his upper body, searching for the injury. His chest, upper arms, waist—that’s when he grunted. You navigated your hand gently around his waist, your poking becoming a lot less rough, knowing that this area could be tender.

When you finally felt a warm liquid and a lump on the side of his waist, you raised your brows at him accusatorily, “So you take care of me and don’t do anything for yourself? Didn’t take you for being so hardheaded.”

From the med kit, you grabbed a clean rag and reached for the half-full alcohol that he used earlier on you—only to wince slightly when you realized you were reaching with your injured shoulder.

You ignored the slight jab in your shoulder and tried reaching for the alcohol on the table, only for your arm to be snatched away from it by Jake’s iron grasp. You scowled at him as he raised a brow at you, “And you’re annoyingly stubborn. So I guess that makes us even.” With a roll of your eye, you moved to remove your hand from his grasp, only he held firm. Jake nodded to the alcohol, “Don’t be stupid and use your other arm, Reeds.”

Reluctantly, you placed the rag in your lap, reached for the alcohol, and held it up in front of him, “Happy?”

A grunt was his only response.

After pouring the alcohol onto the rag, you moved his arm to get a better look at the wound. It was an ugly gash but manageable.

You moved to press the rag against it but Jake’s grip on your arm tightened, stopping you. “I can do it.”

Ignoring him, you pressed the rag against the wound, earning a hiss from the man., “An arm for an arm. Come on, Sully, do you really expect me to just sit back while I know you’re bleeding?” Jake studied your face. That intensity returned and yet you still couldn’t figure out what exactly he was thinking at the moment. You glared, Kind of unfair you get to read me while you close your walls whenever I do it.”

At that, his ears rose as he grinned, “You’re tryna read me?” You rolled your eyes and pressed on his wound harder, earning a sharp hiss. “Bitch.”

You ignored him and continued cleaning it. Once you were satisfied with the cleaning of it, you brought out the bandages.

While you were working at wrapping the white wraps around his waist, something gentle fluttered near your ear.

At first, you ignored it. It was probably a small fly zipping around your ear unprovoked. But your attention was focused on the white bandages so you could zone it out pretty easily. Except the fluttering happened again, this time there was a warmth next to your ear and then a small tug on one of your braids. You looked up, finding Jake examining your braid. He had this concentrated yet far-away look on his face, the braid threading through his long fingers.

There was little space between you two again. You needed to stop ending up in this position.

But you were strangely curious as you allowed your eyes to lock for that brief moment before the next thunderclap. His heavy-lidded eyes lazily scanned your face, another frown tugging on his lips.

What was he thinking about? What were you thinking about?

And why were you so fucking close to him?

Once you were finished wrapping the bandages around his waist—which was kind of surprisingly difficult with how wide his waist was—you leaned away, taking the braid with you.

“Neytiri did it.” You mumbled quietly, tucking the braid behind your ear. You gave his side a gentle pat, “You’re all good now.”

Jake straightened his body and nodded, “Thanks.”

You scooted back to your spot, bringing your knees up in front of you. Jake was still watching you, this time curiously. Maybe just as curious as you had been staring at him before. The two of you just sat there for another moment. Letting the rain fill the silence.

“When you said we weren’t the same, maybe it’s true for the most part but we do have one thing in common,” Jake started, his legs moving back up in front of him, mirroring your position. “I lost my brother. He’s pretty much the reason why I came to Pandora in the first place. Burned his body and then a week later I’m hightailin’ it to this place. Taking my brother’s place…”

You bit the bottom of your lip, “Sorry about your brother.”

He shrugged, his face guarded again, “I would’ve been pissed if I was forced onto Pandora. I would’ve been rash, I would’ve destroyed my brother’s shit if he asked me to. I would’ve grieved anyway I knew how. Like you.” He chuckled, “But because I’m such a jarhead, it took me too long to see it from your perspective. I’m sorry.”

A hum left your lips as you pulled your knees closer to your chest, “How many times are you going to keep apologizing to me?”

He grinned a little, “Til’ I stop being a jarhead.”

“Mhmm.” The corner of your lip twitched. “You are kind of one, aren’t you?”

Jake chuckled and you hid your face in your knees.

Again, it was silent.

The storm went on.

“Thank you for protecting the baby. I didn’t get to say it last time.”

You shrugged, “S’nothing. Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“Humble and an asshole. A little contradictive, don’t you think?” Jake laughed.

His laugh was infectious, you realized. Your chest was a little lighter when you heard it. It echoed in the isolated shack and rattled your ears like reluctant music to your ears. The rain brought a sense of soothing, adding to his laugh. It was, in a sense, a wonderous melody. It was peaceful.

You’ve never felt at peace before.

Gently, you tugged at your braid, “It wasn’t anything heroic. Especially on my part…my mom’s—her forest burned down just before I found out she died. She left it to me and I failed her. Can’t shake that even now. Then the tank malfunctions, the baby could be in trouble, and all I can think about is ‘Fuck, don’t let me be a failure again’. It’s not humble. It’s not noble. It's completely selfish.”

A beat went by until his foot nudged yours. “I don’t care for the why. You still saved her. That’s all that matters to me.”

Thunder rolled by again.

You pursed your lips, “You still want me watching over her?”

Jake smiled, “Yeah. She’s pretty safe in your hands.”

And then he was leaning forward toward. And then that precious space between you had suddenly left. It was just because the shack was small. That was why.

He paused for a moment, considering his wound, before leaning close enough to grab the knife from your pocket and hold it up in front of your face. “You gotta get better with this.” He grabbed your wrist—and you let him—and wrapped it around the knife’s handle, “You’re good with your right, yeah? Always keep a tight grip on it and when you aim, go for the lethal spots.” He then guided your hand to the side of his head, “Temple.” He then moved it to his neck. “Throat.” And lastly toward his left chest, “And heart. Those are just some of the basics. Angular and quick movements. You gotta be sure of your attack—if you’re not, it won’t land and you’re as good as dead.”

You nodded, all too aware of his hand mostly covering yours. Eventually, he let your hand go with a grin. For a second, you twirled the knife before tucking it back in your pocket.

“Thanks, Sully—”

Suddenly, your body went limp.

And you opened your eyes to find your link bed opening.

With a large intake of breath, you sat up just as Norm appeared next to you, “What happened out there? The storm’s getting worse and I thought you’d be sensible enough to unlink but you hadn’t! Is there a good reason for this or did you simply want one of my veins to burst?!”

You winced and rubbed your ear, “Volume, Spellman.”

“No, what the hell, Reeds?! I was fucking worried!” He let out a breath and stepped back, “And now I have a stomach ache because of you.”

With a sigh, you finally got up from the link bed. “While I’m flattered, I need that energy lowered to a minimum.”

Norm sighed and leaned against the link bed across from her, crossing his arms, “Alright, I’m calm. So, what happened?”

“You sure you don’t need a cup of tea or something? Maybe a cracker—”

“Reeds.”

Eventually, you explained the events to Norm in a brief summary. Of course, his expressions were difficult for him to control—he easily became distressed as you told him everything leading up to getting out of your avatar’s body.

Once you were finished, he was knowing on his nails, “Well, you’re certainly lucky Jake was there. And since the avatar’s safe, you need to get to bed. Like I promised, your garden’s been taken care of along with the baby. All you need to do is go to bed.”

And Norm didn’t allow room for you to argue as he ushered you off to bed.

Fortunately, sleep came easy that night. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the storm mixed with interacting with Jake and fighting off the palulukan all crashing down onto your body once you hit the pillow.

By the morning, you immediately went to the link room after shoving down the breakfast Norm made for you, your focus honed in on getting your avatar back to base.

“Stay with Jake,” Norm told you as you got in the link bed. “He kept you alive, remember that.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, Dad.”

When the link bed closed, you opened your eyes to find yourself back in the shack. The throb in your shoulder wasn’t missed but at least you weren’t cold. The blanket on your body wasn’t there before you unlinked but you appreciated the warmth it brought when you woke up.

Next to you, the door was open. There wasn’t any rain but from what you could see, the sky was still grey rather than blue. Another storm would come soon.

Despite the comforting warmth, you pushed the blanket off of you just as Jake ducked inside the shack, both your yellow gazes meeting. “We should head out before another one hits.

Seemed like he had the same idea.

With no argument coming from you, you took the hand he offered you and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

It was cool outside when you stepped out of the shack. Jake went ahead while you followed close behind. You may have been flippant before with Norm but you sure as hell wasn’t going to get lost again. Jake snuck a glance at you and chuckled. You glared at him.

The two of you kept going, you at this point had no clue where you were. And your tablet wasn’t working so you couldn’t look at the map or the coordinates you were given, just to memorize them in case you needed to come back to the shack for more restocking.

In other words, you had no choice but to follow Jake in a strange silence. A silence you didn’t feel like deciphering. At least for the most part, there wasn’t an uncomfortable tension between the two of you as there usually was.

“How’s your shoulder?” Jake asked, walking over a fallen tree.

You followed, “Still hurts but I can manage.” You tilted your head while staring at his back. His muscles flexed with every movement. “How’s your waist?”

The smirk was easy to imagine as he responded, “I’ve had worse.” He glanced back at you and grinned, “Thanks, Doc.”

You shrugged, stepping over a little creek, “If you had bled out, I would’ve been stuck with a body too heavy to carry.”

“Asshole.”

There was a sudden shuffling in the bushes, causing the both of you to come to a complete stop.

“Oh come on.” You grumbled.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” Jake hissed at the same time.

Whatever it was, it was big and coming fat. You took out your knife and Jake brought out his machete from his chest strap.

Only seconds later a bunch of pa’li came out of the bushes, all of them mounted by other Na’vi. Which—after you finally got over the shot of multiple horse-like creatures coming at you—you realized was led by none other than Tsu’tey.

Jake relaxed. You put the knife away but remained tense.

“Ma’ Jake!” Neytiri’s voice came first. Her pa’li stopped closer to Jake before jumping off and rushing toward him. Tsu’tey followed seconds after with a bow as they wrapped their arms around each other. A clear relief settled among the three of them.

You remained where you were, maybe inched away from them a bit until Neytiri's eyes fluttered open and locked with yours over Jake’s shoulder. “Ma’ tanhi?”

“Hi, Neytiri.” You offered with a jerkish nod.

She smiled at you—like she always did with that white crescent moon—but it quickly went away when Tsu’tey also happened to notice you. He moved out of Jake and Neytiri’s arms and stalked toward you. “Tsu’tey—”

Jake tried to catch his arm but missed.

Tsu’tey now stood in front of you as he hissed, “You should not be here!”

“There was a storm.” You replied dryly and simply. His nose flared as you continued, “Hard to get anywhere when you can’t navigate it—”

“You are to stay with your kind. I told you if I ever saw you here again—”

“You would kill me? Yeah, I didn’t forget. Good thing I was doing that before a whole herd blocked my path.”

Jake appeared next to Tsu’tey, placing his hand on his chest as he tried to get between the two of you. He spoke in Na’vi, nothing you could understand. Just certain words that were familiar from your lessons.

Neytiri moved to your side and carefully pulled you away from Tsu’tey so that there was enough space between the two of you. It was a bit comforting having someone at your side like that. You weren’t completely alone here.

It wasn’t like visiting with the Tsahik for the first time. This time—this time was different, wasn’t it?

Tsu’tey lifted his chin, backing up only slightly. He pointed behind him with his bow, “There is a dead palulukan not far from here.” Jake winced while Neytiri frowned. The warriors on the pa’li didn’t react but were staring intently at you, judging you. Nothing new there. “Was that you? Is that why you are covered in its blood?”

“I’m covered in my blood mostly if you hadn’t noticed.” You glared, ignoring the look Jake was sending you. “It attacked me and got a chunk of my skin with it. What did you expect me to do—“

“‘If you hadn’t been out here, it wouldn’t have had to die.” Tsu’tey scowled. His eyes glanced toward Jake’s bandaged waist and you could’ve sworn his face turned a dark shade of blue, “And now you’ve endangered my mate with your presence here!”

Jake stepped in the way of the angry leader, his hand back on his chest. “Hey, hey, listen to me. I’m fine, okay? She was alone and I decided to help her—it’s not her fault I got injured—“

Neytiri hissed in Na’vi, stepping in front of you so that Tsu’tey couldn’t get any closer. She looked particularly fierce as she spoke. Whatever she was saying made Jake wince and Tsu’tey appear even more pissed as he dragged his eyes back to you.

“No!” He yanked away from Jake’s hold and stepped around Neytiri as he growled toward you. “You’ve done enough, demon! All you and your kind do is cause destruction wherever you go! I should’ve killed you the moment your ship landed—just like the rest of your clan!”

This time you stepped forward until you and Tsu’tey were nearly nose to nose, “Then do it.” You replied quietly. He snarled but you never broke eye contact with him. “Kill me.”

Neytiri immediately protested in their language while Jake just stared at you.

Jake had decided then that you were unpredictable.

There was still grief hanging around you. That was all he ever knew of you whenever the both of you crossed paths. Then of course there was the anger that accompanied it. But it was always a sort of rash anger, similar to how he would’ve reacted if he had the time to process his brother’s death and if he could feel his emotions without being terrified of the outcome. Without being terrified of losing focus.

You on the other hand felt your emotions. Wore them even though your face didn’t show it most of the time. Jake hadn’t seen you in your avatar body until now and he could see it more clearly. In your human form, you were able to hide it well. Be almost deadpanned and robotic.

But in this form, it was hard to hide it. This body was too expressive for someone like you. Instead of drooping down, your ears were now pinned to the side of your head. Instead of practically limp, your tail lashed behind you as you stood before Tsu’tey, the challenging glint in your eye unmistakable.

Before you had just been a shadow of yourself—even when the two of you were together in that shack—but now?

Now you appeared as sharp as a spear. The last time he had seen this was when you snapped at him the other day.

But the other times it had always been directed at Tsu’tey. As if only he could bring out this hidden side of you—one that would’ve remained cleverly hidden if not constantly forced into a corner like a wild animal.

That’s what the two of you were. You and Tsu’tey. Wild animals. Ready to pounce at any second.

Good thing both Jake and Neytiri were long used to these unpredictable creatures.

Jake grabbed ahold of Tsu’tey’s arm, this time a lot more firmly than before. “Hey, hey,” His mate finally looked at him, fortunately allowing Jake to pull him away from you. “It’s already done. Let’s just go home.”

He then looked at you. Dried blood—both red and dark—on the left side of your ear and neck, glimmering yellow eyes—a warrior’s mask.

His chest felt strangely tight at the sight of you. “Easy, alright? I’ve got him.”

You blinked, finally realizing that Jake had been addressing you. Your eyes gazed at him and then down to his now joined hands with Tsu’tey. Right, they were mates. Just as well as they were with Neytiri.

Well, you had an inkling but never gave it much thought until now.

So you backed off. Of course, you had no chance of even fighting the man anyway. But you were somewhat still high on adrenalin. You believed you could do anything at the moment. Reckless or not.

Neytiri tugged and held onto your arm, drawing your attention away from the two, “I will take you back.”

“Neytiri—“ Tsu’tey tried but the look on the woman’s face quieted him instantly.

“I will take her back.” She repeated, almost daring him to say otherwise.

Tsu’tey huffed, lifting his chin. Finally, he backed off, allowing Jake to lead him back to the warriors on the pa’li. Neytiri made some sort of a whistle sound and her pa’li galloped toward her. She took her queue, connected it with its antenna, and got on. You grabbed her hand and got on behind her.

She kept your hand around her swollen stomach as she signaled the pa’li to move.

But Tsu’tey spoke first, “Arvok will go with you.”

A pa’li galloped next to Neytiri’s. On top was a younger male. He briefly glanced at you and nodded to Neytiri. She acknowledged him well enough—which sort of told you that they were familiar with each other. Come to think of it, the male—Arvok—looked like a younger Tsu’tey as you examined him closer.

Neytiri guided the pa’li forward. Arvok followed.

You had never ridden on one of these before so unconsciously, you held onto the nearest thing. Which was Neytiri’s waist. She didn’t seem to mind it, her hand that wasn’t guiding the pa’li rested on yours to make sure it was secure around her. You glanced over your shoulder to find Jake getting on a pa’li. Tsu’tey was saying something that you could not make out by how far you were away now.

Jake met your gaze. You pursed your lips and nodded his way.

Before you could see his response back to you, the trees covered your vision of them.

The ride back to Hell’s Gate was quiet but not uncomfortable. You felt safe somewhat and familiar. Being around Neytiri had that effect on you. You were so used to her presence that you almost missed it now that you had it. It was peaceful, in a way, around her. There was a point where you almost rested your head on her shoulder, just because you were so at ease around her.

And you missed this. You missed her.

“Why did you stop coming around?” You found yourself asking casually.

You couldn’t see her reaction since you were sitting behind her. After a long pause and a subtle look your way from Arvok, Neytiri responded, “I could not come for a while…but that will change.” She looked at you from the side, “I want to see your garden and what you’ve done so far.”

And it was nice to hear. You weren’t even really mad that she disappeared. You just always assumed she got busy with her clan. And then there was the subtle bump of her stomach that you felt under your hands.

She didn’t hate you either, it seemed. Surprisingly, neither did Jake.

Just Tsu’tey, which wasn’t much of a surprise.

“I can’t wait then.” You nodded.

Neytiri smiled at that.

It wasn’t long until you arrived back at Hell’s Gate. She steered the pa’li toward the compound where your garden was and the longhouse where you could put your avatar. You slid off and walked toward the garden, just to check on it. You knew Norm said he took care of it but you just wanted to see if they were doing well—just out of curiosity and slight worry.

Neytiri followed you as you started picking at the crops. They all seemed healthy and growing well. Norm did a pretty good job—which you weren’t surprised by since he always studied the Na’vi way. If anything, as much as you liked to make fun of him, you probably trusted Norm the most with it.

It seemed Neytiri was also content with the garden too. In the corner of your eye, you spotted Arvok hanging back, watching the two of you. While he looked similar to Tsu’tey, he didn’t wear the same scowl as him. Or judgment. That probably meant he was just better at hiding it.

“This one is limp.” Neytiri pointed to one of the crops a few feet away from you. “Needs more water and sun.”

You frowned, looking up at the grey sky. “We probably won’t have any of the latter for a while. I should talk to Norm about finding some covering for the plants or else they’ll drown.”

“I will come back tomorrow with something like that,” Neytiri said, standing. She glanced back to Arvok, you watched her expectantly. “For now I must return. But there will be another storm, ma’ tanhi. Be safe.”

You nodded, your chest warm. With that, Neytiri got back on her pa’li and followed Arvok back into the forest. The sound of their gallops slowly disappearing in the wind. After staying back for a bit to check more on your garden, you finally went to the longhouse and unlinked. Feeling a lot more at ease than you usually did.

Something was assuring about this feeling. Like for the first time in a long while, you believed that things were beginning to look up for you soon. You didn’t know why you felt this way but it was nice to just feel it.

And enjoy it before it disappeared from your grasp.

After your unexpected adventure through the storm had come to an end, you were able to finally get back to a semblance of normalcy with your schedule.

With that in mind, you began tending to your garden again.

Neytiri came back the next day with a large leaf meant to cover the crops. Of course, it rained again but it wasn’t as awful as it was last time. So because of the light rain, you spent most of the day covering the crops with Neytiri as she gave you more lessons in her language. Some words were a bit familiar while others were new and harder to pronounce. She then would explain more about life within her clan, what duties the People are required to do, and other ways they get food besides gardening such as hunting.

You took in most of the information while replanting some of your mushrooms with her guide.

“I am training to be the next Tsahik,” Neytiri explained next to you while planting new mushroom seeds. “Some day I will be taking my mother’s place and rule the clan with my mates. Tsu’tey is—”

“Olo’eyktan.” You hummed.

“Yes.” She nodded contently. “He took over after my father. Jake is Toruk Makto. The great warrior who led the clans to victory against the Sky People. They are both great men.” The proud look was unmistakable in her eyes and on her face. You observed it quietly and she noticed, a soft frown now on her face. “Tsu’tey has lost a lot because of them. That is why he is hard and does not want you here.”

You nodded, “Yeah, I know.” You dusted the dirt off your hands as a thought struck you, “What about Jake? He was human once. How did they become mates? How did you become mates with them?”

And just like that, the question for some reason brought a bright smile to her face. Wider than you expected. Sure, you knew she probably loved her mates—that’s no doubt—but this much excitement was quite a lot. Maybe you just weren’t used to showing love so freely or watching someone do it.

Neytiri grabbed one of your hands and squeezed it, “It is because we love him. He is ours and we are his. Ma’ Jake saved Tsu’tey and our clan. He has a strong heart and spirit. That is all that matters. His body did not change that.”

Again, you nodded. She was pretty much confirming what you already knew about them. Well, suspected. Ever since the three of them came to declare that all three of them would take Dr. Augustine’s baby and raise it as their own.

“It is the way here. For Great Mother to bless us with more than one mate.” Neytiri explained while playing with your fingers. “To make more of her children after losing so many. It is our gift to her. Sometimes three, most times four. We believe four is enough for Eywa’s approval.”

“Mmm, well, you’re almost there.” You pointed out, resting your chin on your knee.

Neytiri nodded with another smile, “Yes, we are.”

You then looked down at her swollen stomach, “How far along are you?”

“Nearly four months.” She looked down and rested her free hand on her stomach.

“Congrats.” Your lip twitched. At that, Neytiri’s face grew brighter for some reason. You didn’t mind it of course.

And you could’ve sworn she was the sun in all of this grey.

You also resumed checking in on the baby and fortunately, she was coming along well.

To be honest, you weren’t sure how long the avatar was pregnant, all you knew was that it was discovered.

It could be coming at any moment with how big the stomach was now and the heartbeat was as strong as ever. Actually, around this time, babies could probably hear and recognize voices.

That was where you found yourself the next day after tending to the garden with Neytiri. You stared at the tank for a bit, clutching the tablet to your chest with long contemplation. And you really contemplated.

Wondering just how stupid you would appear if you did this.

Well. No one’s here. Might as well try it. In the name of science.

You grabbed a nearby chair and sat in it.

Biting the inside of your cheek and mumbled, “Hi.” Of course, no one responded. You forced out more words. “You might be coming soon. You have um, a lot of people waiting—excited for you to be here.” You rested the tablet on your lap and cleared your throat nervously. “I’m-I’m just the scientist watching over you, don’t worry. You won’t have to listen to me for much longer. Your parents, well, even if I have my reservations about one of them—there’s no doubt that you’ve hit gold with these guys.” Looking down at the tablet, you brought up the recent ultrasound of the baby.

She had grown exceptionally. No longer a little dot on the screen. “I can’t lie, I’m kind of interested to see you. When you’re born. Did a lot of shit to keep you alive and that includes dealing with one of your dads.”

You would’ve laughed. For a while you were quiet, listening for any footfalls before you continued quietly, “I hope you’re born into a better life here. It’s a lot better than Earth. Trust me, you’re in good hands.”

It wasn’t so bad, you realized. Talking to her.

Plus, it was good for their brain and ears. At least that’s what you read. So, for the next couple of days, you came to the tank room and had a small conversation with the baby. It was always about different things. Your day, your garden, wandering through the forest with Neytiri. Whatever to keep yourself and the baby company.

“Mom loved kids,” You told her two days later after you first started talking to her. By now you were somewhat comfortable talking into the silence. “She probably would’ve loved watching over you. If the others hadn’t opted to take care of you my mom would’ve jumped at the opportunity in a second. She’s always wanted to be a mother, there would be no question about it.” Your fingers grazed the glass of the tank, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sorry, I’m not her. We’re honestly like night and day. Unfortunately, you’re stuck with the night. Hopefully, you’re not scared of the dark.”

Something in the corner of your eye moved. You stopped talking instantly and turned to find Jake entering.

With Tsu’tey right behind him.

You frowned and stood from your seat. Jake greeted you with a nod and a smile, “Hey, Reeds.”

“Sully,” You returned the nod, eyeing the other warily.

Tsu’tey just scowled at you before going to the tank. His face slowly softened into awe upon looking at the stomach.

You moved toward the doorway, “I’ll you the two of you alone with her—”

“What were you doing with her?” Jake asked from his spot at the tank. He stood near the chair you had sat in while Tsu’tey was on the other side of the tank.

“Nothing.” Your answer was too quick. And Jake, of course, noticed.

He grinned, “Come on, don’t get shy on me, Doc. I heard you talking before—were you perhaps talking to the baby by chance?”

Seeing no point in denying it, you shrugged and hugged your tablet, “She’s far enough along to be able to hear voices and such. Maybe even recognize them. I was simply feeding my scientific mind with a hypothesis.”

Jake made sure to show you he wasn’t convinced with the large smirk on his face. Though Tsu’tey frowned at you, “Why?”

At first, you didn’t know whether or not he was baiting you into another verbal fight. Jake was here at least, which brought you somewhat ease. At least he’d be able to get between the two of you in case things did go south. You hummed, “It’s to help build their memory early. Also, mothers usually form closer bonds with their children that way. We do that a lot back on Earth.”

Tsu’tey narrowed his eyes, “And you intend to bond with this child? That is why you were talking to her.”

Jake looked at you curiously then. You shook your head, “It’s not my baby to bond with.” Tsu’tey now looked unconvinced but eventually turned his attention back to the tank. You didn’t miss the thoughtful expression on his face—most would with how much scowling there was—but unfortunately, you didn’t. “You can try it if you want. It’s about time she meets her future folk.”

“We won’t be long, Doc.” Jake sent you a small smile.

You waved him off, “Take as long as you like. I was just about done anyway.”

The next day was spent protecting your crops from the rain which was a lot worse than it had been a couple of days ago. Neytiri wasn’t here today because she was hunting with her clan—which was fine, you could handle most of the garden yourself that day anyway.

Now usually, you’d unlink and go check on the baby, but you decided to save some time and run over to the tank room in your avatar body.

There, you found Jake sitting at the tank. Talking to the baby.

“—and I can’t wait to see you, baby girl,” His voice was soft as he smiled at the swollen belly. “Your mom and papa can’t wait for you to come and hold you for the first time…”

He trailed off when he saw you standing in the doorway. For a moment he didn’t say anything. And in that same moment, you contemplated leaving him alone.

What stopped you was his grin, “Lookin’ more and more Na’vi every day, huh?”

You looked down at yourself curiously. Compared to your human form, your avatar wore a holey crop top that was now covered in a bit of dirt with shorts that were now rolled up above your knees. And if you had to guess, your hair was probably a bit wild—come to think of it, it wasn’t in a ponytail as usual. Except for hanging down your face, wet from the rain. You shook your head as you walked further into the room, “No, just a mess actually. Sorry if I interrupted.”

Jake shook his head, “No, you’re the doc after all. I took your suggestion and started talking to her and I think she’s becoming used to my voice—c’mere and look.”

Reluctantly, you walked toward him with the heart monitor behind you. He grabbed your arm and guided you into the spot he had been standing before.

You followed his gaze toward the stomach, “Every time I talk to her, the stomach shifts—” You looked at him to find a white grin on his face. “She kicks whenever I, Tsu’tey, or Neytiri talk to her. She knows who we are, it’s—it’s amazing.”

“She’s coming along.” You nodded in agreement as Jake moved to the other side of the tank. While watching the heart monitor, you glanced toward Jake, more specifically his waist which now appeared to be wrapped in long green plant strips. “How’s the wound?”

“Healing.” Jake nodded to your newly wrapped shoulder, “How’s that big guy over there?”

“Sore.” You sighed, taking a seat in the nearby chair. It was smaller than you but you managed to sit in it well enough. "But still alive surprisingly.”

There was a low rumble from him which you assumed was a hum. “Don’t strain yourself. It hasn’t been that long since that shoulder was bitten off.”

“Mhmm.” You mumbled, grabbing your tablet.

“Fine. Don’t listen to me. Just don’t come crying to me when your arm falls off.”

“Highly unlikely but I’m unfortunately flattered by your concern.” You mumbled dryly, not looking up from the tablet.

Jake grinned, adjusting his loincloth, “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Minutes later, Jake departed, leaving you with the baby. You got up from the chair and squatted down next to the tank to get a better look at the stomach. “Looks like it’s just you and me, little one.” You hummed at the name you gave her, testing how it felt on your tongue. “I figured it was better than calling you fetus.” After checking the heart monitor again, you continued, “I think you’re Jake’s favorite. Already stealin’ hearts and you’re not even out of the womb yet. Impressive, little one.”

It was subtle. The shift in the stomach. Right after you spoke.

The little upturn in your lip was subtle too.

It seemed the skies weren’t clearing up.

There was a lot of rain and a lot of dark clouds. You, while standing in your garden, looked up at the sky with a frown.

“Keep these covered,” Neytiri said, drawing your attention back to her as she was hunched over the mushrooms.

You nodded thoughtfully. Neytiri stood, tilting her head up to let the small drops of rain fall onto her face. Curiously, you mirrored her and for the most part, it was pretty peaceful. The rain dripped down your face, the cool water contrasting against your warm skin.

Finally, you looked at Neytiri to find her already looking at you, “Can you teach me more of your language?”

She blinked in surprise, “I am.”

“Yeah, I know, but I want you to teach me so that I can understand what the three of you say whenever you argue over me.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Just to at least get a chance to respond with the correct snark.”

Neytiri eyed you for a moment before nodding, “I will.” Thunder rolled by in the distance. “When the storm passes, ma’ tanhi. I must protect my clan first.”

You nodded instantly, “Of course. I can wait.”

When Neytiri left, you double-checked your cops before grabbing your bag to begin your foraging. While it was pretty windy and raining, you were still able to start your trek through the forest—but not too far unlike last time. No more overnight adventures, thank you.

You took your hunting knife and began cutting a few berries and vegetables, not too much to the point where you caused any damage. As you ventured further into the forest, you marked the spots you passed, just to make sure you’d have a way to get back in case you did somehow end up lost.

Traveling through the trees became easier the more you did it. It also happened to make your foraging a bit easier as there were more plants up in the trees than on the ground. Of course, you kept your portions fair, despite the thickness of the many plants and how greedy you were to grab them all. Fortunately, you had a lot of self-control.

By the time you filled your basket with more fruit, you moved to go back in the direction of the compound only to stop when you spotted something slumped near a creek. Something blue and long.

A body.

There was hesitance but your moral compass eventually won as you slid down the tree and crept toward the fallen Na’vi.

“Hello?” You whispered as you got closer. The body didn’t move. You knelt next to it—him. He was male from what you could, despite him lying on his stomach. Carefully, you turned him over, “Are you—”

The question died away when you saw the blood coming from his abdomen. And your eyes widened when you realized this male was from the other day. The younger version of Tsu’tey. What was his name again?

His eyes fluttered as he whimpered. Quickly, you pressed your hand against the wound, the basket of fruits and vegetables long forgotten.

He grunted.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” You whispered assuredly. With a racing mind, you ripped a part of your shirt and tied it around his abdomen to slow his bleeding. “What’s your name—Hey, stay with me. What’s your name?”

There was a croak from his mouth. You leaned closer to hear better.

Arvok.

Yes. Right.

Fuck.

“Please,” Arvok gripped your arm, desperately.

You nodded, “I’ll help you, okay? Just tell me where your home is and I’ll take you back to your people.” You stood, looking around until your eyes landed on a nearby pa’li.

It must’ve been his.

Carefully, you approached the pa’li. Of course, it was skittish but you continued forward carefully, remembering how Neytiri did it.

“Easy.” You assured, raising your queue. The pa’li didn’t move away from you. “Easy.” Eventually, you got close enough to connect your queue with its antenna. When the pa’li didn’t immediately recoil from your connection, you sighed a quick breath of relief and went back for Arvok, who was now watching you carefully. He must’ve recognized you too.

“You are the dreamwalker.” He said in English as you knelt beside him. “How did you—"

“Save your energy.” You told him as you carefully sat him up. He grunted from the movement but you pushed forward and got him to his feet, supporting most of his heavy weight on your injured shoulder. Didn’t mean his grunts stopped, “Sorry, sorry.”

Once you finally got him on the pa’li, you got on and grabbed his arm to wrap around your waist. “Hold tight, okay? I need your guidance so I know where to go. Do you, uh, do you understand me?”

He nodded against your shoulder, his breaths shallow.

At first, you thought it was the rain but your ears eventually twitched at the sound of bushes rustling behind you. A second later you could’ve sworn you heard the thwump of an arrow flying from a bow.

Arvok had heard it too, “They’re still here!”

Without thinking, you steered the pa’li around. The arrow came flying through the crowd of trees and barely missed you by a slice in your left shoulder—instead of hitting Arvok’s back before you had turned around.

“Straight head!” Arvok grunted against your shoulder. “Go! Now!”

You ordered the pa’li to book it straight. Whoever had shot at the both of you was now far behind as the pa’li galloped through the forest. At least that was what you hoped.

Now all you had to worry about was finding the clan. And the last time you went there was in a Samson. Which meant you probably wouldn’t make it until night came.”

At this revelation, you tried not to panic. You worried that Arvok wouldn’t have much time since he was bleeding too much and his breaths were getting shorter by the second. You were so worried it made you dizzy.

“You,” He croaked, drawing your attention back to him. “You—You were shot.”

You frowned and glanced at the small slice in your left shoulder blade. Compared to his stab wound it was just a cut at most.

“Don’t worry about me, okay? Just keep saving your energy. We’ll—We’ll get there in no time—just keep directing me.”

After a beat, he nodded into your shoulder.

And that was what the next few moments were like for a while. The sky was getting darker as time passed and the rain hadn’t let up in a while. If anything, it had gotten worse to the point where it was difficult to see ahead of you.

It was cold but despite that, your skin was warm and sweaty. Sometimes you shivered which only reminded you that you were only wearing a crop top and not something to cover your body. And yet Arvok was practically naked and he was worse off than you were right about now.

A sudden jerk launched you and Arvok off the pa’li and into the wet ground. A yelp left your lips while Arvok landed a few feet away from you. Your dizziness got worse, possibly from the sudden fall so it took you a moment longer to get up while blinking away the black spots.

You scanned the ground until you spotted Arvok lying a few feet away from you. As quickly as you could, you scrambled toward him and grabbed him by his arm, heaving him up and supporting his weight once more. Only this time you wouldn’t be putting him on a pa’li. It was long gone by now and you just prayed that you were closer to the Omatikaya Clan’s base.

“Sorry, I don’t know what happened.” You muttered to him. He said something in Na’vi but thankfully didn’t seem angry as he allowed you to practically carry him. “How far are we?

Arvok sluggishly took in your surroundings and forced out weakly, “Halfway.”

Exhaustion was catching up to you rapidly. Making it a lot more difficult to drag the male along with you. Your left shoulder—where the cut was—was throbbing.

You ignored it and pushed forward with screaming legs and arms. But you didn’t complain. This man had been stabbed and was bleeding out with your pathetic attempt at a bandage around his wound. Your problems were nothing in comparison.

The sky was dark. You weren’t sure where you were and Arvok was losing consciousness.

“No, no, come on, Arvok. I need you.” And for some reason, you weren’t feeling too well either.

You were becoming desperate. So desperate to the point where you were screaming for help. Screaming for someone—anyone to hear you.

It wasn’t long until there was a response.

Just as your legs were about to give out, there was rustling in the bushes again. You cursed.

But seconds later a few Na’vi suddenly came out on pa’li. Drawing their bows back.

“No! Don’t shoot! Please, I’m only here because I found him injured!” You quickly said, gesturing to Arvok who hung limply against you. “He’s bleeding, okay? He needs help!”

One of them spoke and got off their pa’li. This warrior pointed at you while speaking in Na’vi. You shook your head, “I can’t understand you—here.” You gave Arvok to the warrior. Another came to help and brought him onto the pa’li. By then you were practically drenched in blood and rain.

Now that his weight was off of you, your body began to tilt. You caught yourself and shook it off quickly just as another pa’li appeared. Instantly, you recognized the scowl on Tsu’tey’s face as he drew closer.

You had never seen him so livid, especially when his eyes landed on Arvok who was now slumped against one of the warrior’s back.

He leaped off and stalked toward you. This time there was no one to stop his approach. All you could do was stagger back and sputter out quickly, “I found him and brought him here—that’s all I did. He was really hurt and—”

Tsu’tey didn’t hear any of it. Instead, he yanked you by the arm, his grip as firm as steel. He seethed as the thunder clapped above you, “You’ve gone too far, demon—”

But you didn’t hear the rest. The world tilted violently, your shoulder throbbed and the black spots in your vision worsened.

For some reason, you couldn’t breathe as your body hit the forest floor. You weren’t in control of your body anymore. It moved on its own accord. Your muscles became stiff as you convulsed against your will.

You wondered if you’d unlink after passing out. How would your real body react to this?

Shouts and rain faded from your ears.

All that was left was silence.

And your racing heart.

heyyyyy. so for starters, happy late new years! i was thinking we would start off or finish january with a new chapter of you're gonna go far! and i went a little overboard again but hey, i think the sacrifice was worth it heheh.

hope you enjoy it and thank you all for waiting patiently!

(i'm not adding anymore people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

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sinnerlillith · 2 years

Text

Morning backwood

Based off this

Includes: voyeurism, male masturbation, slight exhibitionism, praise kink, smoking, slight sub/dom dynamics from both reader + eddie, some dirty talk, Eddie begs [3.3k words]

Eddie wakes up before you do. Stretching, then walking over to his desk with heavy steps. His rolling tray sits on his cluttered area, and he drops to his chair infront of his desk mirror with his guitar hanging from it, quietly starting to roll up something for himself. He yawns, tired despite his obnoxious morning wood in his pajama pants. It was uncontrollable, just something he woke up with.

He rolls his blunt at his desk, occasionally turning his eyes to your sleeping frame on his bed, tucked under his sheets. His eyes go back to his little morning project, and when he's finally done, he pushes his wheely chair away from his desk, swiveling the chair to turn towards his bed and window.

When your tired eyes open and adjust, you see Eddie tucking a blunt between his pink lips, lighter in his opposite hand flickering to life with a rusty sparking sound.

"g'morning." you say to his face, voice raspy.

The blunt sizzles, his eyes dart to yours, then back. He inhales and circles his lips to blow smoke out. His brown eyes stare at the weed while he speaks, "Mornin'. You're up." He says tiredly, examining the blunt in his twisting hand as the smoke leaves, then putting his lighter on the desk. His eyes look back at your own, softly smiling with his dark messy hair framing his face.

Your eyes trail down his bare torso, illuminated by the morning sun. You stare at his tattoos under his collarbones, vision moving down to his happy tail above his sagging plaid pajama pants. He's sitting back into his desk chair, his posture slouches and he man spreads.

His wrist comes down to rest at his thigh, some inches next to his - oh shit, very noticeable bulge in his pants.

Your eyes smile at the thick hill, "And good morning..." you jokingly speak to it. Eddie is confused at first, thinking you're repeating yourself until he sees your glinting eyes stare at his lap.

Oh. He thinks. Then he smiles.

"heh, yeah," he softly chuckles. "Just woke up like that."

You stretch your arms while you lay in bed, waking your muscles. "Too bad I'm too tired to help." You say honestly.

He inhales once more, some smoke escapes from his mouth in thick white strings. "Nah, don't worry." He says, now exhaling. "Maybe I'll wait for it to go down," he shrugs, curls moving on-top his pale, broad shoulders, "not too worried about it-"

"-Eddie, you and I both know you wanna get rid of that a different way." You interrupt. Eddie's morning wood lasts a little while. And even when he isn't necessarily horny, it still ends up irritating him since it feels like forever until it goes down.

You both share a sleepy grin. His head tilts to side as his chin lifts directly to you, a smug yet handsome look on his illuminated face. He stares just barely above his lower lashes.

"And what way would that be, oh smart one?" His voice is practically smiling more than he is with that flirtatious tone. His large, and veiny hand, comes up to his parted mouth, pressing his lips around the blunt while his eyes stay fixed on you. His Adams apple moves under his thick neck.

Your eyes look down to his pajamas, the fabric outlining his hill under them with a faint smile on your face as you come up with a response. “You could always just... show me how you take care of it when I’m not here...”

A lewd suggestion. Just a simple one, but only simple to you. To Eddie, it was heart racing. His face gets warm, slightly tingling from the buzz his weed has given as well as your words.

A quick string of memories flash through his brain. It’s the memories of waking up hard, not having you with him, only fueling his lust with the thoughts of you.

He had to envision your body under him, squirming and shaking while he stares down between your parted legs, where your bodies connect and a ring if white fluid circles around his base from fucking in and out of you. He imagined your body on top of him, bouncing and shining with sweat while your hands squeeze at his chest and neck - all while rubbing one out.

He’d say things out loud while his eyes shut, and his imagination races. Things like “fuck.. so pretty, baby..” , “shit, gimme more...” ,“so fuckin’ hot.” He’d whimper for you in your absence, jaw slack and brows furrowed, then cum all over his stomach with a whine. Sometimes a whine of your name, other times a whine of curses.

He comes back to reality, palming his bulge while staring at you. His elbow connected to his arm that’s holding his blunt, now sits on the arm rest of the seat. He’s cursing in his head as he gropes himself, burning up while you watch. Pretty face of his, hot from the sight of your eyes trained on him.

He opens his mouth, “You wanna take those sheets off then?”

You’re in just a tee shirt with simple underwear underneath, but you don’t mind sliding the sheets down anyway. You kick them off your feet as you continue to lay horizontally and stare at him. Eddie takes a deep breath when he sees your legs- the same legs he loves having his curly head between, or crossed over his waist, or tucked at the sides of his neck when he fucks into you.

He cups his erection, not breaking his lustful stare, already breathing heavy only from seeing you covered in just a thin shirt.

“So...” you speak quietly, “gonna take it out for me, Ed?”

He snaps out of his stare, eyes darting to your own. They’re wide, and then soon wrinkle up from his boyish smile. He laughs weakly through his nose, suddenly bashful, breaking eye contact with you. He tucks his bottom lip under his top row of teeth.

His empty hand comes up to rub his cheek and jaw, covering his embarrassed, yet giddy face.

“Alright,” his hand comes down, grabbing the stretchy hem of his pants, “whatever you want.”

The smoke from his other hand with the blunt in it swirls around his gently moving frame, filling the space he’s in with a hazy glow. His body shifts in his seat as he tucks his pants barely a few inches down, and all you can do is watch.

He doesn't need to slip them that far, only going just above his top upper thigh before tugging his hard, pink tipped, faintly veiny erection out.

He looks at you, but your eyes are far too focus on something else, making you quietly gulp. It almost makes him giggle, the way you look so thirsty for him.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” he asks, voice cocky because he already knows the answer. Your eyes stay focused, never breaking your stare, and when he finally glides his hand to give himself one pump, your eyelashes flutter.

His curly head twists, then cocks to the side. His dimples show as he speaks, “pretty girl... you gonna answer me?”

You feel your mouth nearly salivate, then you nod at his question, not wanting to fully speak. Not wanting to break the tension in the room.

He gives himself another few pumps, and fuck, the noises that fill the room from the wet sounds his dick is already making is enough to make your legs clench. It makes you bring your hand to your mouth, biting one side your finger.

Eddie starts to fuck himself slowly. Painfully slow, paying more attention to how you react rather than how he feels. His breathing is steady and deep, wide palms and thick fingers curling around his firm shaft, rubbing from base to tip.

He looks pretty like this. Man spreading for you while fucking his fist. His hand with the blunt in it is raised next to his calm face, and his curls lay around his neck and frame his sharp jaw, while his bangs hang just above his deep brown eyes. The same eyes that are slacked, heavy with arousal as they flicker from your face to your body, back and forth.

He licks his lips, and you feel your face get hot as you just lay there, watching him like a porno.

His raspy voice interrupts your stare. "Can you, uh..." He speaks, "lift your shirt?"

You feel a smile creep on your face at his shyness, or at least what you think is shyness. He’s actually feeling smug, especially with the way his lips curl when you start to glide your fingers to the edge of your shirt.

Your finger tips curl under the fabric and you slowly drag it up, brushing over your abdomen, waist, ribs, and then finally at the lower fat of your breast. The slowness of your movements makes Eddie impatient.

You finally lift the fabric over your chest, exposing yourself and leaving your shirt on, bunched up under your collar bones.

Eddie exhales a deep straining breath at the sight of you, laying half naked for him with a smile on your face while your eyes stare back at his dick. You don’t touch your chest yet, just wanting to let him see them bare and exposed.

"fuck babe, just like that." He pants, eyes heavy, starting to rub himself faster.

He tries to speak again, voice dominant yet suddenly shakey from touching himself, “Touch ‘em for me - yeah thats it sweetheart..” he groans as you squeeze your chest, tweaking your nipple every now and then. You start to feel stickiness coat your underwear, getting slick from his praise.

His raspy groans make your ears hot, suddenly reminded of the way his morning voice, laced with pleasure, turns you on. You start to squeeze yourself rougher, motivated by his vulnerable display.

"Such a good girl," he praises once more "my good fuckin' girl... you like watching me, baby?" he speaks, voice light and airy as his chest rises faster. His deep brown eyes look at your own as you nod, biting your lip and gently nodding a ‘mhmm’.

Your confirmation gives him butterflies, suddenly grinning at you wickedly, bringing his blunt to his lips again and never breaking his stare. His fist pumps slower as he exhales, rubbing his tip with more attention, stimulating himself as much as he can for now.

The wet sounds from his dick get louder and he produces more and more pre-cum, getting off just by staring at your tits, wishing he was the one squeezing them instead. He remembers how they feel in his hands, and the way you react when he pinches your nipples. The way you arch into him when he sucks marks onto your chest. The way your fingers tug his hair - fuck. He curses at the memory, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back onto the top of the back rest on the chair.

He starts to fuck is fist faster, from base to tip with more and more speed while his jaw is slack, parting his lips with small noises passing through them. You eye his heaving chest, decorated with his fading tattoos, then stare at his thick hand pulsing over himself.

“Slower, Eddie.” you gently command, making him slow his hand down. He obeys without hesitation.

He whines from the loss of the fast stimulation, now having to endure torturous, slow pleasure, igniting his sensitivity. But, now he can actually stimulate his entire dick.

He goes slow for a while, but then starts to get impatient, lifting his head and pleading at you with only his eyes.

“Aw,” your sympathy is fake, “you look like you need something, hun.”

Eddie inhales a short, trembling breath, “...more,” he whispers. “let me go faster..” his voice has lost it’s confidence from earlier, now completely at your mercy.

“Hm.” you pretend to think, eyes now off his own, looking back at his body.

“Please,” you hear him beg pitifully. “Fuck- shit, please y/n-” his voice is so light.

His face actually starts to warm up even more, turned on by begging for you, by being at your command, by you watching him fuck himself - he really is a pervert.

“You need to go faster, baby?” you taunt, already knowing what he wants. He nods quickly anyway, eyes trained on you, waiting for you to give him permission. He groans impatiently, forgetting all about the blunt in his other hand and only zoning in on you.

“Then go ahead.”

Eddie speeds up right at that moment, not too much but just enough to get him to buck his own hips up, almost meeting his pace. Praises leave your mouth, fueling his arousal more, getting off to your voice.

He moans up at the celling, then down at the floor. His wrist with the blunt nearly slams down on the arm rest of the chair, curling his fingers tightly on the arm chair with the blunt between them as his head lolls around as he continues to touch himself.

“Faster.” you tell Eddie, basically challenging him.

He looks at you, a corrupt look on his own face with a wicked half smile while he chuckles darkly, accepting your challenge. He moves even faster, making himself whimper.

It feels good at first, the speed he brings himself, knowing exactly what spots of his to stimulate, but he quickly starts to become too stimulated. His hand gets a little tired, and the pleasure starts to get too overwhelming - but he can’t stop. Not yet. He can’t disobey your orders, he loves when you have power over him far too much to do that.

So he has to beg.

“C-can I slow down... please?” he mewls, “It’s - fuck, s’too much..”

“Aw. What’s too much, baby?”

His teeth grit, he whimpers through them. “Hand... my dick-” he can barely speak straight, “nnggh- fuck! shit- please..” he stresses his words, truly pleading for you like he means it.

“Words, Eddie.”

“Jesus Christ,” a hiss leaves his mouth, “please, gotta let me slow down, it hurts-”

You chuckle a bit, “Okay, okay- you can slow down, hun.”

Eddies head immediately falls back, resting on the chair with his chin all the way up to the celling, allowing you full view of his bobbing throat while his fist slows down on himself.

He utters an out-of-breath ‘thank you’ while he pants. You just stay watching him, playing with your chest, staring through half lidded eyes

He breathes heavy from the returning pleasure in his body. His hand that's holding the blunt comes up to his lips, head still laying all the way back as he smokes and puffs the smoke up to the celling, eyes twitching and fluttering shut.

Fuck, what a sight. His legs spread open, smoke leaving his lips into a cloud over his *almost* fully exposed frame. Hard dick out, pink tip now heavily leaking and shining in the morning light while his large hand circles around it - he's just giving you a full on show.

Lewd noises leave his quickly rising and falling chest while you faintly squirm from the tingling arousal in your body.

His throat vibrates, a deep groan rushing into the air. "Fuck," he whispers under his breath, head still tucked back. "Fuck me..." You hear him whine pathetically.

He starts to pant and gasp, fucking his fist faster now, shoulders starting to twist and jolt from his new speed. You even catch his thighs pulse, twitching just a tiny bit... it's like he's completely forgotten that you're there. It's like he has no damn shame, completely consumed by how good he's feeling.

He truly is 'taking care of it' the way he would have if you weren't here.

He whines once more, and it's a whine of your name. It sounds so meek, it nearly come off as a beg, sounding different from his other whines. His head lolls to the side, eyes clenched shut tightly, and another whine of your name follows out his parted pink lips.

Oh fuck.

He's really in it now.

But what is he thinking about? What is he picturing that's making him whine your name differently than before?

You bite your lip, ready to ask him.

"Eddie baby," you speak gently, "what are you thinking about?"

His head raises off the back of the chair, eyes slowly finding your own, his hair falling back forward automatically, sitting above his pale broad shoulders.

"You." He says weakly. "Fuck-" his eyes close shut again, before reopening, "your mouth, your pussy, even your thighs," his face twists with pleasure, "shit- just you baby..." You keep watching him struggle to speak, "J-just you, fuck you're so hot-" his head immediately falls back again, like it's weak. It's as if keeping it up is just too hard.

You bite your lip as you keep watching him, unable to focus on anything else.

"Thinking about fucking me?" You ask teasingly, and he holds back a moan, the noise that leaves his mouth is something deep and short. He nods quickly.

"Thinking about me sucking you off?" You push further, and he can't hold back his noise. He whines, then nods shyly, with more of a rush this time.

His mouth parts, "yeah..." He huffs, "you're so fucking perfect with my dick in your mouth." Eddie speaks through very heavy and short breaths, the kind of breaths he makes when he's close.

"yeah? Bet your hand isn't as good." You're just teasing, but he shakes his head to the side, completely serious.

He hums, "No, not as good...you feel so much better," Eddie avoids your staring eyes while his stay shut, barley keeping them open. He's too overwhelmed.

You smile. "But you're still gonna cum anyway, huh baby?"

He hums - pretty much moans- a ‘mhmm’ while he nods mindlessly, curls swaying with him. His fist is stimulating himself perfectly, and the feeling of your eyes on him just pushes him more.

His empty fist clenches tight, even with the blunt between his finger tips, starting to feel himself get closer to cumming all over himself.

He whines and huffs through his gritted teeth, nearly sounding like he's gonna cry. His toes curl under his socks, his thighs twitch and his lips tremble. His eyes start to blink open, head falling forward, before his brown irises start rolling to the back of his head, mouth gaping wide before shutting his eyes again.

"Holy f-fuck," he curses, "gonna- shit, gonna fuckin'... damn it-" he can't even say it. He can't finish his sentence at all due to how out of breath he is.

"you're gonna cum, baby?" You finish it for him.

He nods at you, eyebrows drooping downwards and eyelids lazily hanging over his deep brown irises. His curls frame his lazy, pleasured face perfectly while his wet pink lips get tucked under his teeth, poorly hiding his pitchy noises.

His breathing gets faster with every next breath, and his moans get higher and higher until they finally stop, followed by a stiffled gasp.

He cums in several creamy white spurts, launching into the air before messily wetting his abdomen and covered thighs as he groans with relief. The fluid dribbles down his fingers and knuckles, rolling into the back of his palm, but he just keeps fucking himself through it. Making an absolute mess of himself.

You can't stop watching, no matter what. Your body won't let you tear your eyes away. He looks so fucking beautiful.

When his dick empties, he just sits there in his mess, huffing to catch his breath. He blinks at the celling lazily, head moving around like it's full of air. His blunt gets raised to his lips once more, starting to feel more buzzed when he takes another hit. His eyes are dizzy and unfocused from his orgasm, zoning out on anything but you.

"That was hot, Ed." You blurt.

He smiles lazily, eyes now able to focus, staring at you. His pink lips curl, "You don't seem so tired anymore." He jokes.

"You wanna find out?" Smile returning to your face.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

thank you to @poppy-metal for accidentally getting me out of my writers block

Ppl who wanted to be tagged: @hellfirefiend @sayaing

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x black!reader #sub!eddie munson #sub eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #switch!eddie munson #switch eddie munson

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starneteyam · 1 year

Text

ENOUGH ★

🖇️ char. Neteyam x Omaticaya! Fem! Reader

🖇️ warn. Enemies to lovers, spicy

🎥 In which you are always teasing Neteyam, making him blush in embarrassment, and he has enough and kisses you to shut you up

A/N Mad Neteyam is hot asf

You and Lo’ak were the two people who loved teasing Neteyam most. Whenever you and Neteyam were sparring and he somehow ended up on top of you, you would smirk and say something inappropriate, like, “You must love seeing me this way”, and Lo’ak would only make it worse by wooing. Of course, Neteyam loved Lo’ak to death, but you? Sometimes, he wants to strangle you.

You were friends with Lo’ak, and not him. You were always there, unable to ignore like a pebble in a shoe. You taunted him, teased him, and annoyed him on purpose. You and Lo’ak thought it was hilarious; obviously, Neteyam didn’t. You didn’t necessarily dislike Neteyam, he was just so cute that it made you want to tease him. His reactions would always fulfill your expectations.

The way his ears would flick back, or the way his tail would curl between his thighs; or maybe it was the way his breath hitched whenever you brought your face too close to his, or the way his leader-like act disappear and he would have nothing smart to say back whenever you said anything daring.

It was just a joke, and that was all you thought of it as—but Neteyam didn’t. Every time you would pull him close or brush your arm against his, his heart tugged closer to yours. You were annoying, he definitely thought that — but he loved what you did to him, although he would never admit it. He never had the confidence to say anything back, but today, he found that strength.

You were a healer, and worked with Neteyam’s grandmother most of the time. Some of the Omiticayans had gone out to blow up some of the cargo train tracks and loot the sky people’s items, and when they came back, because of Lo’ak, Neteyam had gotten injured. Your heart tugged, seeing him in pain, and watched as he walked closer to your tent. His eyes met yours, and he had a frown on his lips while you had a smirk on yours. “Where is my grandmother?” He asked, his voice deep and stern, obviously not in the mood for any of your games after getting scolded by his father.

“It’s your lucky day! It’s just us.” You winked, dipping your finger in some of the ointment, before bringing it to the cut on his lip. “Ah!” He hissed in pain, and you tried your hardest to not roll your eyes. “I just touched you, no need to be so dramatic.” You let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, and he glared at you. Every word that came out of your mouth was to ridicule him. You stayed silent after that, focusing so you could properly treat his wounds. After finishing the ones on his face and arm, you moved to the gash he had on his abdomen.

You brushed your finger against the cut, and his breath hitched. This didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you looked up at his eyes, to notice he was already looking at you. You smirked. “You probably want to kiss me so bad right now.” You snickered, and he rolled his eyes. “Enough.” He mumbled, pushing your hands away from him, earning a scoff from you. “Hey, I’m not done!” You called after him as he gathered his weapons on the ground, getting ready to leave.

“Quiet.” He hushed you, tired of hearing your voice. “Well, I’m sorry that you’re so in love with me-” He suddenly turned around, arm looping around your body as he grabbed the base of your queue, earning a gasp from you in surprise. He leaned down, eyes wide in anger, holding your head still. “Shut it,” He spat, an idea forming into his mind as his eyes glanced down at your parted lips. “or I shut those pretty lips up for you.”

Your face was full of shock, and he smirked, loving how the tables had turned. “What the-” You started, and as he said, he smashed his lips against yours, breathing heavily. You couldn’t help but little out a quiet whimper, your feelings all over the place. ‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-’ You repeated in your head, trying your best to stand as he was making your legs turn into jelly. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you tried to keep up with his movements, your trembling hands balling into fists.

He pulled away, a smirk already displayed on his face for you to see. Your lips were plump and bruised, your lips still parted open in shock, trying to gather your thoughts. His eyes searched your face, before he scrunched his nose. “It’s just a kiss, no need to be so dramatic.” He repeated your words back to you, before letting go of your queue and turning, walking away and leaving you alone, frozen in place. “What the fuck.” You whispered, hands on your hot cheeks.

Part Two ->

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slasherbvnnie · 1 year

Text

Until We Found You | Part III

Part III is now up and running! P.S. there are two playlists I listen to while writing these, they don’t necessarily go with reading them but you totally could listen to them as you read! Let me know if you would like the playlists. As usual, heed the tags.

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader,NSFW, All characters 18+, P in V, Fingering, Overall smut

Part I Part II Part IV Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

The next few days were pretty dull, you spent a few days over at Sidney’s, the first night it was just you two but the third day Tatum, Billy, and Stu all spent the night- it was a group decision to leave Randy out because he would just go on and on about who was the killer and why they were targeting the victims. Ghostface was pretty quiet too, with no killings or attempts since you, you were starting to wonder if you were meant to be the last victim, you also wondered if you had pissed them off by not going home. Luckily today you were returning home, back to see your parents and Irena and your brand new door- no shining scene included this time.

“Need a ride? Me and Stu are going to the movie store,” Billy asked, making you turn to him after you and Sidney had pulled away from a hug. “Sure, my parents haven’t left my aunts yet so I would appreciate it,” you said before turning to Sidney again. “Thanks for letting me crash at yours, I’ll call if I have anything weird going on again,” you promised her, waving bye as you left with the boys.

“You should call us if that creep comes back, me and Billy can put him in his place,” Stu said, giving his signature laugh and smile, making you laugh. “That’s a great idea, Billy can scare him away with his crazy eyes and you can bore him to death by telling him all about horror movies,” you joked, earning annoyed glares from both boys, making you laugh again. “I’ll call if I see them again, okay? Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself,” you promised the boys as you climbed into the back seat, throwing your bag in next to you.

The day passed by smoothly, the boys had taken you to the movie rental store and bought you some candy along with a movie, which Stu insisted you watch and even rented for you. Prom Night, another fucking Jamie movie. You had popped it into your laptop that night once you were home. Irena sat on your lap as you caught up on some homework due the next day, occasionally you glanced at your laptop to watch the movie, not noticing when Irena had moved from your lap and moved to your vanity. She sat down, her tail twitching angrily, your attention finally moved to her when you heard a little growl escape her.

When you got up to see what had angered her you saw the window slide open, the same masked killer from the other day climbing in through your window. You paused, looking at them with wide eyes, wondering if the flirting over the phone had all been a plan to get you off guard, to either kill you or kidnap you so they could set you up for the murders of Casey and Steve. Your nerves didn’t calm down when they motioned you closer after closing the window, still, you walked over slowly to them. Their hand reached up to your face, cupping it gently before gripping it more firmly, holding the knife in their other hand up to your cheek. Your breath hitched, feeling the cool touch of the steel against you, but they made no movements to harm you in any way, not really at least.

The knife ghosted over your skin, not enough to cut but enough for you to feel scared and strangely turned on at the same time. Your eyes studied the mask in front of you, you couldn’t make out their eyes behind the mesh, but you could feel their eyes piercing into yours. They removed their hands from you, pushing you towards the bed, you complied but paused when you sat down on it. “My parents are home…can-can you lock the door at least,” you asked, they tilted their head towards the door and you swore you heard them chuckle as they most likely recalled how they broke the last one. They walked over to the door, locking it before making their way to you. Your legs clenched together, your ever-growing nervousness and excitement now showing to them as you wondered what they were going to do.

They looked over you for a moment before holding the knife right up to your sternum, pressing the knife onto your clothes as they began to drag it down, leaving a trail of torn clothes in their wake. “I kinda liked those…” you murmured, if they hadn’t had the mask on you may have seen the shit-eating grin they had on their lips as they pressed the knife harder against your skin. Your cheeks heated up, taking the hint to shut up as you let them continue. You had already changed into pajamas earlier in the night, your Carrie shirt now tattered and torn, exposing your top half to them. Once they reached your groin, they paused and moved the knife away, pocketing it before pushing you back onto the bed so you were laying down.

They hovered over you, tracing your face again, the rough texture of their glove trailing down your body before their fingers hooked under the waistband of your pj pants, tugging them off slowly. Your skin grew goosebumps all over, the cold air in your room felt like mercy against your warm skin, which was only growing hotter by the second. A small whimper left you as you felt them place their hand over your panties, you hadn’t even noticed until that moment but your arousal had shown even through the fabric, feeling a little embarrassed that you were so needy without much effort.

Your hand flung up to your mouth as you felt them reach into your underwear, you could feel how cold their fingers were even through the gloves as they ghosted over your clit. You bit down on your hand as they pressed on your clit, circling around it as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back. The texture of the glove bothered you a little, which they must have noticed as you bucked against their fingers. A whine left your lips as their hand pulled away, opening your eyes to see them reaching into their pocket and pulling out some torn piece of fabric. They spread it out in their hands, showcasing it to you, a blindfold. Another blush rose to your cheeks as you tilted your head up for them to put it on, a silent understanding between you two that they wanted you to stay clueless about who they were. They reached around your head and tied the fabric over your eyes, your heart began to beat faster realizing that you were completely at their mercy now.

They reached back into their pocket, bringing the knife out and making a stabbing motion at you, bringing the knife inches from your forehead. When you didn’t flinch, they felt comfortable knowing you couldn’t see behind the blindfold and began to undress. You heard them shuffling in the outfit, hearing a thud on the floor, wondering if that was the knife or their mask. You received your answer when you felt the knife against your cheek again, you felt yourself grow wetter, partially because of the knife, partially because ghostface was standing right in front of you unmasked and you couldn’t see them. Your hand tried to move to touch them but before you had the chance they pinned you down by your wrist. You whined but they only gripped you tighter, they dropped the knife and instead grabbed your torn t-shirt and tied your wrist together with it.

You didn’t have to wait much longer before their mouth was latched onto your neck and their fingers were tracing over your core. Their fingertips teased you, running over your folds as they carefully placed a hickey on your neck. You could feel a grin on their lips as they bit and licked at your skin, feeling your pulse under their tongue. You did your best to keep your voice down, your heavy breaths bounced off of your bedroom walls as they pushed two fingers into you. A louder whine sounded from you, to which they comforted you by planting a kiss against your lips. You didn’t need to see them to feel the passion in the kiss, they pushed against you with such need, teeth clanking together and making your bones shake as their thumb moved to your clit.

Your thighs opened a little wider to allow them more access, relishing in the pleasure their hands brought you. The familiar tension in your stomach was slowly beginning to build, sweat began to form on your skin from feeling their hot breath against you. You felt their eyes on you, it only made you more turned on knowing they were watching every little reaction you had to their movements. Another finger entered you, hitting a spot inside that made you toss your head back and thank any supernatural being or god there was that they were quick enough to swallow the moan you let out in a kiss. They took the opportunity to snake their tongue into your mouth, making you melt even further as their pace quickened.

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly as that knot in your stomach threatened to break. You moved slightly, your hips bucking and moving against their fingers as you let the pleasure take you over. Before you could tip over the edge they pulled away, which made you whine and squirm in protest. “Not fucking fair,” you breathed out, to which you were met with the cold blade of their knife again pressing against your neck. You pouted, realizing ghostface probably didn’t like your bratty attitude too much but it was all fixed when they kissed you again. Your legs slowly fell open again, allowing them to situate themself in between them. Their hand let go of the knife again and instead took the opportunity to roam over your body, little whines coming from you when they ran over- and teased- all the spots you reacted to.

Finally, they trailed their way back to your core, watching as your face scrunched up with pleasure as they circled your clit again. “Please…” you whined to them, their other hand gripping your thigh as a warning, “I want you in me already, please.” You begged, their grip growing even tighter, likely to leave a bruise before they finally let up. You barely took a breath before you felt them against you, your body tensed slightly but soon calmed down as you felt their lips on yours again. They were more gentle this time, but you could feel the tension they held by holding themselves back. “It’s okay., you can ruin me. Please ruin me,” you begged again, whimpering when their hand gripped your neck, squeezing the sides as they quickly entered you.

Ghostface was smart enough to put their mouth on yours again to cover up your moan, melting in their hold as they began to set up a steady pace. You wondered if they were taking it slow to let you adjust or to tease you, but they quickly had your attention again when their free hand returned to your core. Your stomach tightened once again, your head spinning with all the pleasure they were giving you. When their thrusts began to quicken you couldn’t help but arch your back, your ankles hooking around them and trapping them in between your legs, but with the way they thrusted even harder into you, you don’t think they minded it one bit.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were close to coming undone, both of your hips stuttered and bucked, their hand that played with your clit quickened a little as well, paying attention to the spots that had you shaking. “Fuck, gonna-“ you whined again, your head tilting back as they hit your sweet spot, “gonna cum,” you whimpered out between moans, trying to keep quiet. They continued the torture they were inflicting on you, your black vision turning white as you finally reached your climax. Your thighs shook around them, pulsing around them before they came.

You felt their muscles unclench, glad that you finally came to the realization that they had worn protection, mentally cursing yourself for not even checking before. They pulled out slowly, gently touching your face as you whimpered from the loss. You adjusted yourself on the bed as they finally peeled away from you, hearing the shuffling of clothes again as they got dressed.

After a moment you felt a dip in the bed, feeling them untie you but held down your wrists as they leaned in for one last kiss. You smiled into it, giggling as they pulled away. “Come again tomorrow, with a new Carrie shirt preferably,” you asked playfully, feeling their lips curl up into a smile before they pulled away. You heard the thumps of plastic before your blindfold was taken off, your eyes meeting the masked killer after adjusting to the light.

“Was that smile a yes,” you asked, smiling when they nodded. “You can take the torn one as a momento, and so you know what size to get,” you offered, holding out the piece of clothing to them. They grabbed it, heading back to the window as you stayed on the bed and watched them. They climbed out of your room while you finally stood up and watched them take off. You sighed, running your hands over the little hickeys and bruises they left on you before heading to your bathroom to get cleaned up.

There was the ringing of a phone, only sounding for a few seconds before the other line picked up. “Hey Stu, let's take the girls shopping tomorrow, we owe someone a new shirt. Also need to get you all fancied up too, you have a date tomorrow night,” Billy said, Stu laughing before beginning to question him on the details.

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