#so of course now he's so starved for it that the only version of that connection that seems like it could satisfy him is to be possessed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alwaysshallow · 6 months

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― blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

SUMMARY: Simon Riley knows you have bad experiences with dating, but he also knows you don't really need no one but him. He's gonna provide you anything. So you can imagine how he could change, when for the first time, you think you've found the one man who's right for you. To your surprise, weird events happen during the time you date Nick. Thankfully, Simon's there to help you. (11,4k)

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A/N: this is SUCH a long piece, so some of it is here, but the full version is on AO3. i hope you're gonna forgive me for this one </3

"It's not like I'm ugly, right? I thought about it. If I'm ugly, so that's why it doesn't work out." you sip your favorite wine, looking right at your best friend, who has been listening for the past hour your ramblings about dating.

"You're fuckin' stupid, but not ugly, pet."

He's the best friend in the world – you can say this, meaning it with your whole heart. In fact, he's the best friend everyone probably wished to have, at least in your mind. Not only here for you, but loyal, you can tell him basically anything. He wouldn't say a thing, even if someone was nagging, and he was mostly a good adviser; all the qualities you looked for in a best friend, right?

And he was brutally honest, like right now, but you don't mind it. Simon Riley had this thing, and even if sometimes you were almost offended at his bluntness (like this one time, when he told you you're a crying mess and you act… worse than a toddler), you mostly appreciated it. Your other friends couldn't compare to his honesty, this man was not the one to lick your ass.

Or, so you thought.

"Excuse me?" you raise your eyebrow, laughing, while shaking your head. "You should, I don't know, tell me I'm amazing and they don't deserve me. Or so." you joke; it causes him to roll his eyes.

"That's what I told you. Different words, but the same thingy."

"Right."

It sometimes sucks for you that Simon isn't a girl. He has this unbelieveably annoying guy thing, where he just can't be delusional with you, and he can't just mourn over some hot guy. His way of thinking is… on the other level, he totally skips the mourn part, the part that is pathetic; he's just saying things like "move on" and "there's a lot of them anyway". Again, you love it, but you really wish you could cry about guy being so pretty that it hurts, without him rolling his eyes.

Yet, when you're more in mad mood than mourning one, his attiude is just perfect. He's the one to encourage you to scream, he even brought you a few times to rage room when you needed to smash a few things, not to mention the attiude he was setting you in. Powerful, not giving a shit about a "piece of a man that doesn't deserve you".

Simon sighs. "You're worryin' too much. Really that desperate?"

You huff, as you sink more into the plushy couch in your apartment. "I'm not desperate. It's just…" you take a few seconds to think "being love starved."

"Sex starved, you mean."

"Love starved." you send him a look.

"Mhm. You fancy plushies, hugs, and all shite like this?"

"You're so fucking British, it hurts" you laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I want something like this. Someone to hold me, someone that cares about me and I know it. Sex comes in package, of course, but it's just… ugh, I want a man" you groaned.

You feel as pathetic as ever, when Simon doesn't respond – because how exactly should he? He wasn't vocal about things like this, he usually just nod his head, and there it was, another topic. A miracle it was that he was already listening to your date rambling, not cutting it off because he was uncomfortable or something.

Dreams about your love life… more girly conversation.

Mostly – you know guys who loved talking about it, obviously, and you adore it pretty much, especially when you can know their perspective on some things, but… Riley wasn't really one of them. He had "simple hookups" as he said one day, when you asked him about doing double-dates. It wasn't even an option, he just liked to ocassionally fuck and that's all.

So you stopped trying a few months ago for a double-date. Instead, you focused more on finding a man that would meet your expectations at least in the middle, and that was exhausting, to be honest. Tinder dates were just a disaster after disaster – if it wasn't some catfish, a guy that wanted to marry you and have kids after two weeks of writing, it was most definitely a guy with a desire to bang you quickly.

Romance was dead these days, you noticed. That wouldn't keep you away from trying to find someone, though. Patience was a key in things like these.

"Maybe you will set me up with one your friends? It wouldn't suck. You know them." you think out loud.

"Definitely too much wine f'you." Simon takes your glass, and pours all of the liquid to his mouth, swallowing it like it was some kind of juice, not alcohol. "You don't want a guy from military in your life. Trust me."

There's some sternness to his tone, at which you raise your eyebrow. It was just a funny comment from your side, nothing else – you know by the heart that this man doesn't like the idea of connecting his two worlds. "I know, Simon. Just joking, right?"

You place a hand on his. It's a comedic, yet, heartwarming view, when you see the size difference.

"And, you're pretty cool for a military guy."

He huffs. It seems like pretty cool offends him, but he doesn't say it out loud, so it can be only your imagination working. "You met me before I enlisted. 's different."

"How different?"

"You knew me before military."

He doesn't give you another answer that night, nor the continuation of this one – he brushes you off, like you are some kind of bug that is disturbing him, and brings up another topic, about his deployment. He asks if you can watch his apartment when he's gone, take care of it; it's stupid, Simon knows that you will always agree, but it's the need of asking you anyway.

And, he likes coming home, where he can smell your perfume, where he can see that you made some changes. You tend to do that a lot, mostly buying stuff to his apartment. "It looks worse than room in the hospital" you always say, when he cocks his eyebrow with amusement. He doesn't say that, but he finds it really adorable that you care so much, to make his space… cozier, even if he's not really attached to it. Mostly, it's for your comfort when you come to visit him, and that happens a lot; not like he minds it. Anyone else would be banned from his apartment, but you? Oh God, you wouldn't be, not in the milion years.

You could probably be the worst ever to him; call him names, punch, anything, and he would still be your Simon. It's what he was used to, to being by your side, no matter what time, no matter if you were in the good mood or not; your presence was everything to him.

Not like he'd ever confess that, but it is what you know, silently.

Yet, you are so good to him. Always sending him letters or texting him when he is on deployment. A couple of times, you sent him little things too, if he forgot something, photos included too, but new ones; mostly you captured views, but you were here once or twice. His happiness may not be that visible to outsiders, but his heart is full every time.

"My girl", he'd tell boys when they saw a polaroid of you, swiftly tucking it into his vest because no one was allowed to see it more than three seconds.

Often, Gaz joked if you are actually his girl even if you're not dating, but it sounded so bizzare to Ghost. How would you not be his? Thirteen years of friendship counted as something beyond being only his best friend, no? At least in his mind it was like this. He was used to you dating briefly other guys, but it lasted maybe a few months top. Nothing serious, probably his hookups were more meaningful than your relationships.

So you can easily imagine his confusion, when your mutual friends tell him big news about your new object of interest; someone that he doesn't even know yet, but he's not really his fan on the beggining.

It was just a month of being away.

His eyes are on you now; you are embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. You don't even speak, you just wave your hand in dismissive manner, trying to change the topic because you don't really want to talk about it. Not in the presence of your best friend, at least.

It works for everyone but Simon, and you know it by the way he looks at you, processing what he just heard. Changing a topic, sudden talkativeness from your side is like buying time in that, time precious to think what to say to your best friend later on.

Because you know for the fact that he'll ask. He always does, and now he has a reason.

You have your reasons why you haven't told him. "It's nothing serious. That's why I didn't tell you." your voice is a little more silent than usual, but he can hear it anyway. You two are taking a walk to your apartment with no one around; and it's awkward one.

Simon seems like he doesn't want to say anything about your poor choice of men. It worries you; he always wanted somehow to make fun of you or make comment. Now, it's just a nod, like he gets it, but you know it's not it. He doesn't get it.

But you don't know what it is.

"C'mon!" you nudge him, and when it doesn't seem to affect him, you stand right in front of him. A little wobbly because of alcohol, your vision isn't so great too, but it makes him stop in his tracks. "Say something."

"Somethin'" he grumbles, and you can't help but roll your eyes. "What? Told me-"

"-I know what I told you!" you cup his face in your hands. Your head is a bit hazy, but the intensions are clear; making him talk and soft. It always works, so you have a lot of hope. "He's a good guy, but I want to meet him a bit closer to be… certain about him, you know? You've heard me whining about boys a bit too much."

"You can tell me everything." he muses, and you can't help but smile at that. Of course – of course you can tell him everything. You never doubted it for a second, and you think of yourself as stupid, doubting that he wouldn't want to hear about it. "Ill be the judge of that, though. Good guy thing."

"I can't be trusted?" you tease, and when he lets out a low chuckle, you grin even more. It's like a reward after him being his grumpy self.

"No." he shakes his head. "You don't know what is good for you. But that's why I'm here."

Under the influence of alcohol, you didn't pay too much of attention to his words; probably you wouldn't pay attention to it even if he'd say this when you are sober. Simon as your protector – it's so natural, you don't even need to think about it as something weird. It's just the way things are for thirteen years, everyone knows this.

Your friends, who were a bit reluctant on the beggining, but two parties later, when he joined the competition of drinking on time and wasn't drunk at all, he won over their hearts.

It was tougher with your parents, when you were in highschool. A little distanced at first, they constantly asked where were his parents (which, you told them, was rude asking, especially to his face), telling you how much of a bad news he could be for you. Suggestion of him ruining your future was the worst, you never thought of him this way; that discussion caused you to give them the silent treatment for a few days.

Apparently after that, suggesting that Simon is around you too much, clinging to your side and giving you "weird glances", they stopped the narrative, admitting that the boy might be damaged, but not broken. You still felt like they're judging their every move, but seeing that he had pretty good life plan, seeing that he thought about military and went here actually? Hell, they completely stopped being suspicious in any means.

Riley just had this thing of charming people, even if they didn't like him in the beggining. He had everything under his finger, trying to keep things under control – it was like that… pretty much since the beggining of his life. You met him when he was an adult, but he always liked to keep things under control; people, things that he cared about. What belonged to him was sacred, untouchable for anyone else.

The possessiveness started in his early childhood with toys, when he absolutely despised everyone who just wanted to touch his things, to lay their dirty, filthy fingers here. In early classes, it was considered just rude.

When he was older though, he started fighting for various things. Knowing he has the advantage, he used his legs, fists, when he had to, and no one was looking, besides the actual victim. He wasn't stupid; he knew how troublesome the public can be, he also knew the power of manipulation a bit too well to get caught so easily. Wasn't the plan, getting caught; it once happened, but because he wanted to; he even broke his own nose, making it like the other guy did it, just to get what he needed. The reputation of kid who was broken in the childhood, so he's just not opening on others was… suitable, for him. No one could suspect anything, especially when the kid just happened to be "attacked" by one of the popular ones, right?

The idea of power was something that Simon truly desired from the beggining; maybe it has something to do with the lack of his parents in his life, being transferred from one foster family to another. Maybe it's just him being a little fucked up – who knows.

What mattered, was the fact he had you. You, so sweet, so considerate to be by his side, to be protected by him, to be the person who "opened" because of her. Little did you know, he opened just because he wanted to be closer to you, not those fuckers you hang out with.

If you knew his past, you would have another reasons in mind, why he showed up to meet your potential new boyfriend. Jealousy, posessiveness, power complex, him being a control freak who can't give you to anyone he personally doesn't trust – if ever, considering you were his precious best friend. He isn't willing to share.

You aren't really aware of him being this crazy. You think of his flaws, and you see someone that has been damaged, someone that you can and will help, if he just asks for it – or if you'll see he needs it. So, naturally, you help, and grin the widest you can, when you see him in the door. He shows completely unexpected. It doesn't take you long to wrap your hands around his neck, tight, as you hug him.

Happy as always because you can see your friend, happy as ever because moments like these means a lot to you. When he's deployed, you can't even see him, so you're taking all in when he's right in front of you.

"Hope 'm not interruptin'." he murmurs into your hair, as his head is practically buried in them; he has to bend down a little to be at your level, but it's something he enjoys. The power.

"Never." you say immediately, not even hesitating in your statement. "Actually, you found a pretty good moment."

"That I did, eh?" his eyebrow arches, as he straightens up.

"As always. Nick's here, you have to meet him."

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#ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley x f!reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #best friends to lovers #best friend simon riley

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harringtonstilinski · 4 months

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..Ready For It? (Steve's Version) - Steve Harrington (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 6,219 Warnings: fluff, use your imagination for the lingerie Requested: no | yes; i hope it meets your expectations, @fandom-princess-forevermore!! Smut: no | yes; oral (f receiving), protected p in v, first name kink is that even a thing?, A/N: Hi, friends! Surprise, surprise, another smut piece! If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Steve Harrington. Your assignment partner turned best friend… turned crush. It all started sophomore year when you two were assigned to be partners in math class. Your teacher claimed that the lesson was going to be a hard one and that two heads would be better than one. So, he decided to partner the students up in order to see if his claims were true.

They weren’t true… for you at least. You found the harder stuff a little bit more easier than the easier materials. Steve, of course, struggled a little, but once he got the hang of it, you flew through the lesson, finishing in three days rather than the four your teacher said it’d take.

When Steve had come to you the following Monday, handing you the math test you’d taken the previous Friday with a smile that he was trying so hard to contain, you knew he passed with at least a low C.

A smile had crossed your face at seeing the 80/B on his paper, your eyes landing on his before he excitedly picked you up and spun you around in the middle of the hallway, not caring that there were other students walking around that you almost kicked.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. That was, of course, was after the youngest Byers boy went missing, only to be found a week later in some place called the Upside Down, titled that by your little brother Dustin and his friends, that called themselves the Party.

Steve had protected you, your brother and his friends during the events of Dart, as well as the latest event; The Mind Flayer, that apparently hadn’t gone away like you all had thought. Steve and Robin, both of your best friend, had lost their jobs at Scoops that was located in Starcourt Mall before it burned down… from all the fireworks that you all had thrown at the nasty creature.

Now, you were sitting on a stool at the counter of Family Video, Steve and Robin’s newest job, reading your book. You were completely lost in the words on the pages, you didn’t register what Steve and Robin were talking about.

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to try and be with someone long term,” Steve said. “It’s just that I haven’t met anyone that I would want to be with long term.”

“Aside from one girl that’s sitting at our checkout/return counter reading a book?” Robin bemused, gesturing her head towards you, gaining Steve’s attention.

As he looked at you, he watched as you smiled at something in your book before you chuckled at the pages, your head shaking as you turned the page, a gasp sounding from you not a moment later before you exclaimed “Traitor!” at the page.

Looking up from your book, your face dropped as you saw the smirks on Steve and Robin’s faces. “This fucker is a damn traitor. Tristan promised Carmen a date and that he wasn’t in love with any other woman, but he lied! He’s going on a date with a woman that’s not– oh, wait.” You had looked back down to get more details, but realized you hadn’t read onto the next paragraph for an explanation. “Nevermind. It was his fucking sister.”

Groaning, you placed your bookmark into your book, closing it and looking up. “Hey, is Keith here?”

“Yeah, why?” Robin asked.

“What do you say to the three of us,” you said, pointing to yourself, as well as Steve and Robin. “Going to get some lunch. I’m starving.”

When your eyes landed on Steve’s, he shrugged and looked towards Robin, who had a knowing look on her face. “You two go ahead and go,” she said, patting Steve on the shoulder. “Someone needs to be here to hold down the fort.”

“Perfect! Well, I mean, not–”

Steve chuckled, turning his body towards the back rooms. “I’m gonna go let Keith know I’m taking my break. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded before grabbing your book, shoving it into your purse before standing up and walking to the Rom-Com section, skimming through the movies you might want to rent for your movie night with Max, since her mom wasn’t being much of a mom these days since Neil took off after Billy had died.

“Oh, Max the store before you got here,” Robin said. “She said she has to cancel tonight. Lucas wants to hang out with her.”

Sighing, you moved from the Rom-Com’s over to the Crime section, spotting a movie that had been one of your favorites for a couple of years. Smiling to yourself, you picked it up and walked over to the counter, Robin already waiting for you.

She looked at the cover before looking up at you through your lashes. “The Outsiders?”

“Again?” Steve asked, grabbing something from under the counter.

“Yes, Steven, again,” you deadpanned. “It’s a good movie.”

“How many times have you-” he started, only to face Robin to ask her, “How many times has she checked it out?”

Clicking through the computer, Robin’s eyes stayed on the screen. When she got to your information, she sighed and said, “Four.”

“Seriously?” Steve asked, looking at you through his lashes.

Shrugging, you said, “I can’t help it! Rob Lowe is just- mmm.”

Steve and Robin chuckled as Keith came out from the back, your eyes going wide before you ducked behind the counter, trying to hide from the store manager.

“I saw you, Henderson,” Keith said.

As you stood, you smiled shyly, resting an arm on the counter. “Heeeeey, Keith. Haven’t I told you that–”

“You’re not checking it out again,” he said.

“Oh, come on!” you whined. “Why not?”

“We have a three rent rule. You can only rent a movie three times.”

“What?! That’s not a rule!”

“That’s my rule.”

Narrowing your eyes, you asked quietly, “Is this because I wouldn’t go on a date with you when you were manager of the arcade?”

All he did was munch on a Cheeto Puff before he turned and walked back into the back of the store, leaving you to groan and toss your head back. “He’s such a dick.”

Chuckling, Steve typed something on the computer before walking around the counter to you. “Come on. Let’s go get some lunch and then after my shift, you and I can hang out. Have our own little movie night.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment before locking your eyes with Steve’s, chuckling when you saw the deadpan expression on his face. “Okay, okay. We can do that. I’ll have to go get some popcorn and candy.”

“Why don’t you guys start early?” Robin said. “Steve, I’ll tell Keith some lame excuse so that you and this fine lady here can enjoy each other’s company.”

“That’s okay, Robin,” you said. “I have some things to take care of at home first before his shift ends.”

“Are you sure?” they asked.

Chuckling, you replied, “Yes, twins, I’m sure.” Looking at Steve, you looped your arm through his, smiling. “Let’s go, Harrington!”

~~~

After you and Steve had lunch, he took you both back to Family Video, where your car was. You told him that you had to go home for a little while but that you’d be at his house after getting the popcorn and candy for your impromptu movie night.

As you were folding your laundry that you washed earlier in the day, your landline rang. Without looking away from the shirt you had grabbed from your laundry basket, you picked the receiver up, putting it in between your ear and shoulder. “You’ve reached the best looking Henderson, what’s up?” A chuckle on the other end had you sighing. “What do you want, Munson?”

“Just wondering if Dustin is coming to Hellfire tonight, princess. That’s all.”

“I play one freaking time and you all refer to me as princess since.”

“It’s adorable.”

“You’re adorable,” you deadpan. “Uhm, I’m not sure. Why not call the house and ask?”

Eddie sighed on his end. “I did, but he told me to call you and ask if you could bring him.”

Looking off the side, you scrunched your brows, pausing your motions of putting the shirt on a hanger. “He couldn’t have just asked me to bring him, or you for that matter?”

“Eh, it’s more fun to annoy you.” You could hear the smugness in his voice as you closed your eyes and sighed heavily. “I already know what you’re going to say, so thank you, princess.”

“You’re fucking welcome,” you gritted through clenched teeth. “I have to run a couple of errands before I drop him off, but it’s your responsibility to bring him home, Munson!”

“Don’t worry, m’lady. He will be home, safe and sound after Hellfire.”

A small smile crossed your face. “Thanks, Munson.” As the two of you hung up, you sighed, thanking the stars above that Dustin had another older male figure in his life other than Steve, who worked a lot and barely had time for Dustin.

The thought made you sad as you put another shirt on another hanger before your phone rang again. A groan fell from your lips, your head tilting back in frustration before you picked the receiver back up, answering with “Henderson.”

“Should I come pick you up?”

“Steve-”

“I know you said you needed to run-”

“I have to take Dustin to Hellfire tonight, but I’ll get the stuff and be over right after. I promise!”

“Okay,” Steve chuckled. “Don’t forget the stuff!”

“What makes you think I’m gonna forget?”

~~~

“I forgot the stuff,” you said after Steve opened his door, a sheepish smile on your face.

All Steve could do was chuckle and shake his head, Standing to the side, he let you walk in as you rambled.

“I took Dustin to Hellfire, and I was gonna go before I took him, but he was super insistent-” Stealing a glance at him through your lashes, you muttered, “You know how he can be-” Going back to taking off your coat and shoes. “So, when we got to the school, the Club was outside and they wanted me to hang out for a minute, so I did and then one minute led to another and next thing I knew-” You started walking into the kitchen. “I had lost track of the time and when it hit me that I had actual plans with you, I was rushing out of the school, trying not to break any road ru-” You turned around, not seeing Steve standing behind you. “Steve?”

“Living room,” he chuckled.

Walking into the living room with the drinks you had grabbed from the fridge during your rant, you sighed. Setting the drinks down, you sat on the couch, propping your feet up on the table in front of you, crossing your ankles. “So, what movie is going to be gracing our eyes tonight, dear Steven?”

Steve slightly stiffened at you calling him by his full first name. He didn’t know why, but he loved you calling him that. It made his cock twitch in his pants. Sighing to himself, that didn’t go unnoticed by you, he messed with the VCR before standing from his squatting position. “You’ll see,” he replied, walking over to sit next to you.

“Is it Fast Times? I swear to shit, Steve, if it’s Fast Times again–”

“You. Will. See,” he said, poking your leg with two words before poking your side with the last word.

“Okay, don’t tickle me or else we’ll be rolling on the floor having a tickle fight.”

While the previews played, you got comfortable against Steve, resting your head against his shoulder as his arm came to wrap around you. As he lightly rubbed up and down your arm, he asked, “Did you finish your book today?”

“Almost,” you sighed. “I have a few pages left, but when I went to go start on the last chapter, Dustin almost got my door stuck in the wall with how hard he opened it.”

Steve chuckled, continuing the motions on your arm. “I forget you guys have pocket doors.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse sometimes.” Your eyes lit up as you looked at the tv screen, seeing The Outsiders title card. Sitting straight up, your eyes widened in excitement and happiness before you turned to look at Steve. “You rented it?!”

Nodding his head, Steve smiled softly. “You wanted to watch it, so I- oh, shit!” He laughed as you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, causing him to laugh.

“You’re welcome. Now, sit down so we can watch it.”

About halfway through the movie, you started to yawn, moving your head to get more comfortable on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve chuckled, trying to look down at you. “you tired?”

Yawning again, you nodded. “A little. I cleaned and did laundry today. That normally makes me really tired once I’ve-” Yawn. “-had some time to relax.”

“Do you want to go to bed?”

You looked up at him, smiling a little. “Sure.” As you were getting up, you notice Steve hesitate for a moment. scrunching your brows, you placed a hand on his forearm, asking, “are you okay?”

He looked at you before sitting up to face you some. “Yeah, I'm fine. there’s just… there’s just something I wanna do before we head to bed.”

“What’s-” your words were cut off by Steve gently placing his lips on yours, waiting to see what your reaction would be.

You were shocked, to say the least, and he didn’t move not one muscle, letting you take the lead on the kiss.

After a moment, he went to pull back, but stopped when your hands cupped either side of his neck, pressing your lips against his.

Your lips moved in sync for a moment, the two of you in kissing bliss… before a throat being cleared had you two breaking apart.

“No funny business, son,” his father said. “Either go up stairs and show her the guest room or take her home.” Mr. Harrington walked away towards his own bedroom as Steve took your hand in his to lead you upstairs.

“Don’t take me to the guest room,” you whispered. “Take me to yours. I wanna finish what we started.” You had a sly smile on your lips as you followed Steve up to his room.

Once inside his little safe haven, he closed the door and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him before he guided you back to his mattress.

When your back hit the mattress, you started to get nervous. hearing all the girls at school talk about steve and what he did right before sex had you wondering what they were talking about back then. Now that you were seeing first hand, your nerves were starting to show.

He crawled on top of you, a small smile adorning his features before he kissed you again. He went to kiss your neck, not missing the light gasp that came from your mouth.

“Mmm, Steve?”

“Yeah, baby?” he whispered.

“M-maybe we should, uhm… should take things a little slow,” you said, it coming out more as a question than a statement.

He looked at you, cupping your cheek. “We can go at whatever pace you want.”

“Okay,” you breathed, smiling. “ ‘cause I've, uhm… I’ve never-”

Realization dawned on him as you stammered out your words before he quietly asked, “Are you a virgin?”

Looking down at his shirt, you messed with a spot on it, hesitantly nodding your head. When you looked back up at him, he was softly smiling back at you.

“That's okay, baby. I'm glad you told me. Like I said, we can go at whatever pace you want.”

With tears starting to shine in your eyes, you just looked at him, thanking the stars above that they put Steve Harrington into your life. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you again before getting up off the bed to retrieve some pajama pants for himself, and one of his sleeping shirts for you.

That night, you had the best sleep since November 1983. you almost forgot what it felt like to sleep that good! and it was all thanks to Steve Harrington.

~~~

After that night, you and Steve were practically joined at the hip for the next month! By Christmas, he was calling you his girlfriend, which you didn’t mind not one bit.

You found yourself ready for intimacy with Steve. You’d been hinting at it while Christmas shopping for your friends and families. Deciding to hint at it one more time to see if he would catch on while the two of you shopped, you stopped at the Victoria’s Secret storefront for a moment before walking inside the store.

“Hey, Steve?” you called after a few minutes of looking around. “What do you think about this?”

Steve walked over towards you, seeing a very sexy piece of lingerie in your hands. “F-for what?” he asked, putting his hands in his pockets. His nervous tick you had noticed way back in high school.

“For me?” you questioned, looking at him with your brows scrunched. “I mean, it’s cute, right?” You went back to looking at the material in your hands. “It’d be cute on, sure, but… wouldn’t it be cute-” You turned to look at him, running your finger up and down his jacket, seductively. “-on your bedroom floor?”

You watched as Steve’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Cheering internally, you were so proud of yourself for taking a step out of your comfort zone. What you didn’t know was that Steve’s cock twitched again when you said it.

Sighing, you looked at the rack and put the piece of lingerie back, looking at it almost longingly. You knew you were putting on an act, but Steve didn’t. It’s what made it fun for you, despite your inexperience.

Steve had inkling that you were probably getting to give him what you both really wanted, but he ended up shooting that idea down when you told him you didn’t want to talk about it a couple of weeks back.

It’s not that you didn’t want to talk about. It’s that if you did talk about it, you’d want to jump his bones right then and there… when you weren’t ready. And now that you were ready, it seemed like Steve went radio silent on talking about sex.

When Steve had told you that he was gonna go look for one more person to buy a Christmas gift for, your eyes went sad before you nodded and agreed to meet him in the food court. Once he walked away, you smirked slyly to yourself, picking the piece of lingerie back up and walking to the counter, purchasing the material for yourself, deciding that tonight… was going to be the night.

~~~

After you and Steve had met in the food court, you both agreed it was time to go back to his house since your parents were having a Christmas party with all of their friends, something you definitely were not interested in doing at the moment.

When you two made it back to Steve’s house, you told him you needed to do something before you sat down on the couch to enjoy a quiet movie night together. With a smile on your face, you ran up the stairs and to his room, shutting the door before moving to his attached bathroom.

Taking the lingerie out of the bag, your smile fell into a satisfied one as you looked at it. With a contented sigh, you nodded your head, placing it onto the counter part of the sink, removing your clothes and undergarments from the day to put the lingerie on. Deciding to put on some of Steve’s favorite pajamas that you wore, you went to the drawer that housed your pajamas, grabbing the ones you needed out.

After you got dressed, you went back down the stairs, smelling the popcorn that Steve had apparently made. If you hadn’t had sexy underwear on, you’d be more excited about the popcorn.

You wrapped your arms around his middle once you made it to the kitchen, resting your cheek on his back, faintly hearing his heartbeat through his back.

“Well, hello,” Steve said, smiling. He turned around, your head tilting back a little to look at him better as his hands came to your cheeks. “You ready for our movie?”

“Is it-”

“A Christmas Story? Yes. I know you love to watch it during this time of the year.”

All you could do was smile at your boyfriend. You hadn’t been together long, but you could feel the love you had for each other. You also decided that tonight was the night you’d tell him those three words.

Reaching around Steve, you grabbed the popcorn, popping a piece into your mouth while turning and walking into the living room, giving your hips little more swing than normal.

Steve gulped, resting his hands on the counter behind him. “Fuck. I’m in trouble,” he whispered to himself. He grabbed the two water bottles he retrieved from the refrigerator as the popcorn was popping before going into the living with you, stopping dead in his tracks at seeing what you were wearing.

Trying to be as seductive as ever, you put a piece of popcorn into your mouth, asking, “See what you like, Steve?”

He didn’t hesitate to nod as he walked closer to you. After he set the water bottles down, he grabbed the bowl from you, setting it on the table before placing his lips on yours in a searing kiss.

You squealed in surprise before closing your eyes to wrap your arms around Steve’s neck, kissing him back with the same amount of fervor he was kissing you with. Your body moved before you could even think about it, sliding down the couch so that the two of you could get more comfortable.

Steve slotted himself in between your legs, propping himself up on his arms to not crush you. He moved his lips in sync with yours for what felt like forever before he moved his lips from yours to your cheek down to your jaw and neck, where he found your sweet spot, lightly sucking when he heard your gasp of pleasure.

Your fingers carded through the back of his hair, keeping him in place while he worked on your skin. A moan that had escaped had him laughing and kissing that spot he was attacking before looking you in the eyes.

“You like that?” he asked.

With your bottom lip in between your teeth, you nodded before kissing him again, your lips moving in sync before his tongue asked for entrance to your mouth, which you granted. Groaning at the feel on your tongue on his, Steve brought a hand to your outer thigh, hiking your leg up on his hip.

“Steve,” you quietly moaned. “I have,-” His lips on the juncture of your neck and shoulder had you gasping. “I have something,-” Your teeth went in between your teeth as you groaned. “I have-,” Steve moved to your shoulder, pulling the top of your sleeve down before stopping at what he saw. When you looked at his eyes, you giggled. “I was trying to tell you that I have something to show you.”

Lightly pushing Steve off of you, you sat up and stood by the couch, a playful smirk on your face before you turned and ran away from him, laughing. He lightly chuckled as he looked down before taking a deep breath in and getting up from the couch, chasing after you.

He found you in his room, and he almost fell at the sight before him. You, in the lingerie you had shown him at the mall just a few hours before. “You-you bought it in r-red?” he stuttered.

When your eyes met, you nodded shyly, feeling a tad insecure just standing in some sexy underwear in front of him. This was way out of your comfort zone. Excitement burst through you as you watched Steve take his shirt off as he walked towards you, his hands going to your cheeks after he discarded the item to the floor, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that could only be described as heated and hungry.

You moaned into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He picked you up, your legs going around his middle as he turned you both around to lay you down onto his bed, your bodies bouncing with the action.

Detaching his lips from yours, Steve sat back on his legs, running his hands up your thighs to the top of your panites. “Can I take these off?” he asked.

With your teeth between your lips, you nodded.

He gave you a questioning look, asking, “Are you sure? Because once these come off, there’s no going back.”

“I’m sure,” you whispered. “I’m ready. I want you to take me. Deflower me, as they would say.” Sitting up, you placed your hands on his chest, fingers lightly scratching at the hair that was there. “You’re it for me, Steve. Take it… because I want you to be the one who takes my virginity. Because…” It’s now or never. “...because I love you.”

“Fuck, I love you, too,” he breathed, moving to press his lips against yours before gently laying you back. Slowly pulling the panties down your legs, Steve kept his eyes on you, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable in the slightest.

When he pulled the item off, he dropped them to the ground before looking at your knees that were tightly shut. Gently, he pried them apart, not taking his eyes off of you for a second. “Don’t be scared,” he whispered, leaning down to hover over you. “You have not a damn thing to hide from me.”

You nodded before situating yourself up the mattress more, resting your head on his pillow before releasing a deep breath and looking down at Steve, who was already laying on his stomach, looking at your core in awe.

“You’re so wet,” he muttered. Looking up at you, he asked, “This all for me?”

Tentatively, you nodded, doing your best to relax your knees. “All for you, Stevie.” At his look of disapproval, your anxiety started to spike.

He placed his hands on your thighs as you tried to close your legs. “Not Stevie. Not tonight.”

“S-Steve?” you asked, to which he shook his head. “Steven?”

He all but growled as he looked at your wet heat, licking a strip from your entrance up to your clit, your head tossing back into the pillows as you gasped, your hands coming up to rest beside your head.

“Oh, my god,” you breathed. “Steven!”

“That’s right, baby,” he said. “Say my name. Screeeeeam my name.”

“Steve,” you whispered, feeling his tongue attack your clit. You gripped the underside of his pillow for some sort of support as he licked another stripe up your core, stopping on your clit. His attention on your bud was almost like he was licking an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

Moving one of your hands to your thigh, your fingers laced with Steve’s as you felt your orgasm building. “Oh, my god!” you whined. Looking down at Steve, you breathed, “Holy shit.”

Looking up at you, Steve asked, “It okay if I finger you?”

Quickly nodding your head, you said, “Yes,” before another whine left your throat at the feel of two of Steve’s fingers sliding into you with ease from all the slick that you and Steve had built up.

Your moans came out as pants as you squeezed Steve’s hand, feeling him squeeze yours back. “St-Steve… I’m gonna cum.” A frustrated groan sounded from you when you felt Steve stop all movements. Glaring down at him, you narrowed your eyes, saying, “I swear to god, Steven-.” Your words were cut when he dove back into your core, a moan of his name falling from your lips as you came all over his fingers.

Steve helped you ride out your high, giving you sweet praises as he kissed your inner thigh. “That’s it, baby. You did so good.” Crawling back over you, he smiled before placing his lips on yours, your lips moving in sync as you worked on unbuckling his belt, removing it from its loops on his jeans.

Standing from the bed, Steve slid jeans and boxers down as you propped up on your elbows, teeth right back in between your teeth. He chuckled at you as your eyes went from his eyes, to his chest, his abdomen, and then finally, on his cock.

Nerves started to creep back in as you trailed your eyes back up his body. “Is… it’s gonna fit, right?” you asked, watching as he slid the condom onto his length before crawling back over you.

He nodded, running a finger through your folds. “It’ll fit.” Grabbing his shaft, he gathered as much wetness from your entrance as he could before going still, letting out a breath. Looking at you, he asked, “It’s gonna hurt. Are you ready for it?”

You let out your own breath, closing your eyes to ready yourself. When you opened your eyes, you looked into the hazel orbs that you loved so much. Threading your hands through the sides of his hair, you nodded, whispering, “I’m ready.”

Steve looked at you for a moment before kissing you, gently, while pushing himself inside of you.

A pained gasp sounded from you, tears springing to your eyes at the intrusion as you squeezed them shut while Steve rested his forehead on your shoulder, grunting. Kissing your shoulder all the way up to the side of your mouth, he voiced his apologies, bringing his arms up to cage in your head, wiping your tears away.

The head of his cock was the only thing inside of you, so when he tried to move in a little more, you whimpered.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, kissing your cheek.

You shook your head, swallowing the next whimper that wanted to escape. “It’s okay, it’s fine. Just… gimme a second. You’re fucking huge.”

Sighing, he said, “You’re so fucking tight.” He looked at you, moving hair from your forehead, saying, “Baby, look at me.”

Opening your eyes, you felt two tears fall from the corners down to your ears. He watched as they fell, catching them before they could fall to your ears.

“I gotta try some more or else I’m gonna explode.”

Your chuckle turned into a whimper, almost forgetting that his dick was partially inside you. You took a deep breath, releasing it as you said, “Okay.” Nodding you repeated the word, adding, “Kiss me while you do. It might help the small amount of p-”

He kissed you before you could finish your sentence, pushing inside until he was fully sheathed.

Breaking the kiss, your head pressed further into the pillow as you loudly exclaimed, “Fuck! That hurts.”

Ever the gentleman that he was, Steve let you adjust to his size as he pressed light kisses all over your cheek, feeling your quick breaths as you adjusted, the pain turning into pleasure.

You sighed, taking the sides of his neck in your hands to bring his face level with yours. “You-you can move now. I think I’m good.”

Steve didn’t say anything as he kissed you, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, the both of you hissing. He set a slow pace to help you get acquainted with the feel of his cock sliding in and out.

“More,” you gasped. “Steven… more.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, going at a faster pace, whines of pleasure meeting his ears. “You feel incredible, baby girl.”

You moaned, arching your back at the use of the nickname before whining in pleasure as Steve bucked a little harder than he intended. “Fuck, Steve. Do that again.”

He looked at you, stopping his movements. “You sure?”

“I swear to fuck, Steve, if you don’t move-” Your words were cut off by a gasp in pleasure at the feel of Steve’s hips snapping into yours. “Ho-ly shit,” you said with each thrust of his hips.

“Goddamn, you feel incredible,” Steve grunted.

“You might’ve mentioned that,” you said, a smile on your face.

Gasping, you carded your fingers through the back of his head, gripping onto his locks gently as he brought his fingers to your clit, circling the sensitive nub. “Mmm!” you half moaned, half whined, your bottom lip between your teeth. “Steven! I’m gonna-” Your words were once again cut off as your release hit you before you could voice it.

“Shit, baby girl. I’m gonna cum,” Steve breathed, his thrusts growing sloppy. One, two, three, four, five more thrusts and he was spent, his seed spilling into the condom.

You could feel him pulsing inside of you, which was a weird feeling in and of itself

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, trying to catch your breaths… before you started giggling, which turned into full on laughter.

Steve looked at you with concern. “Baby?”

“Oh, my god,” you laughed. You looked at him, trying to control your laughter. “I’ve never cum that hard in my life.”

Steve chuckled, resting his forehead on your shoulder. With a soft groan, he lifted himself up to rest on his hands, looking at you with so much love and adoration. “I have pull out now ‘cause I’m starting to get soft.”

You nodded, ready for that small amount of sting that everyone talks about. Hissing came from both of you as he pulled out. But what you felt wasn’t pain, it was the feeling of the tiniest bit of overstimulation, your body jolting a little.

“You okay?” Steve asked, sitting back on his knees, rubbing your calf.

Your answer came as a nod, a sigh falling from your lips as he nodded to himself, bending over to kiss your knee before getting up off the bed to clean himself up. Not knowing what to do, you sat up on your elbows, looking around his room.

When you turned over to look at his nightstand, you noticed the picture frame sitting next to his lamp. Inside was a picture of the two of you after one of Steve’s basketball games.You both were smiling big, but as you were looking at the camera, Steve was looking at you. That was a happy day for the two of you.

The Hawkins High Tigers had won that game, and you both were elated, high on adrenaline. That was the night the two of you realized that you liked each other more than friends, but never voiced anything to each other, not knowing you both felt the same.

When Steve came out of his bathroom sighing, he looked up at you, seeing the frame in your hand that you had picked while thinking about that night. “What’cha doing?” Steve asked, crawling on the bed behind you, kissing your shoulder.

“Thinking about the night this picture was taken,” you said, hissing at the end from the feel of something warm on your sore core. Taking a deep breath, you released it as you turned to lay on your back, picture frame still in your hand above your face. “That night…-” you whispered. “...was the night I realized I liked you as more than a friend.”

Steve laid next to you, kissing your shoulder again as he put his arm around your middle. He looked at the picture, smiling to himself as he also thought about that night. When he saw in the crowd, cheering him on while wearing his number on your face, he knew. He knew that you were the one for him.

He played his heart out that night, only taking a couple breaks to catch his breath. When he turned to see if you were looking at him or watching the game, he would smile to himself, seeing you angry at something the other team did to the Hawkins players.

When you placed the picture back on his nightstand, he sighed softly, closing his eyes before opening them up again at feeling you move under his arm. Laying on your side, you looked at him, staring into those hazel eyes that you fell in love with all those years ago.

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing your arm up between the two of you, placing your fingertips on his jaw.

“For what?” he asked, softly.

“Giving me the best night of my life.” Smiling, you cupped his face the best you could, lifting your head from the pillow the slightest bit to press a kiss to his lips.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, pressing his lips back on yours.

Before the two of you feel asleep just as you were, your asses bare for the world to see, you both said those three words that were confessed earlier in the night.

“I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: we’re also adding a lot of new things up top! let me know what y’all think about that! is it more organized, is it more chaotic? let me know! :)

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on January 13, 2024

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut

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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

Note

Genuinely so obsessed with the ask you answered about reader being associated with König’s childhood bullies and coming back years later to try and make amends……. I need the angst, the drama, the nasty disgusting degrading sex, the absolute turmoil on both of their parts 😭 I am starving for this, the way you portray König especially there is exactly how I’ve always envisioned him in my mind!!!!!! And then with reader desperately trying to make him happy now out of guilt and her crush that’s grown 10x since she saw him in school, delusionally hoping and believing there’s a *relationship* between them and she can fix what she thinks she allowed to happen back then 10 years after the fact, while König is constantly fighting himself to not fall for reader despite his own buried crush resurfacing, and convincing himself he’s only using her to release stress and tension after assignment while simultaneously holding so much resentment for her and her sheer proximity to the people that tormented him back then, I am foaming at the mouth for the toxic dynamics to be found there !!!!!!!!! The old him begging to fulfill some childish need to have her, while this new monstrous version of himself only wants to watch her suffer to repent for how he had to suffer !!!!!!!!!!!!

I know right?! I’m obsessed with this too!

I’m so here for the toxic relationship dynamic (sue me), also me and @bucca2/@wordstome had a whole conversation about this yesterday because König would bend over backwards to self sabotage this shit.

(The following is mainly a summary from our brainstorm session from last night + I have bucca to thank for the precious meme at the end, it’s König in a nutshell with his high school crush lol)

First of all our girl is sooo in love. She was in love when they were young, but now? She’s a goner, König is out of this world. He's so handsome, so confident, the epitome of cool if there ever was one... and God, would you look at those muscles?

Now she can finally drool all over him but back then, what was she to do? As the shy one of the clique, she always tried to avoid attention; she could never have endured what König did. Perhaps it was cowardly of her, but she really was just scared. She could only dream about him from afar, and in her dreams, they would both change schools due to their parents moving or something... Ending up in the same area, finally getting to be together like it was a miracle, Deus ex Machina.

Her silly dreams never came true, but it looks like they're coming to fruition now. And this time, she's going to make everything better! Now that they're both grown up and free from their tormentors she can finally admit that she has feelings for him, feelings that are only sparked fast aflame when she sees the man he has become.

And König can’t stand it.

Where was she when he was odd and scrawny? Where was she when he cried himself to sleep over her?? Of course she wants him now that he’s big, independent and menacing, an odd nerd who discovered guns and gym... He thought she was better than this.

Deep inside, he’s still like this:

...but we just need to forget about it because König is NOT going to fold for this girl.

He’s not.

And the sex is so NASTY. Bordering on degrading, König wants to be a gentleman when it comes to ladies, but this one? This one he wants to fuck like he paid for her. She brings out the beast in him, and he finds himself asking her to get on her knees and blow his cock on some filthy cruise... Fucks her like he doesn’t love her, and she’s absolutely lovestruck, when did König become so mean? (God, that she loves him)

Trying not to fall in love with her (as if he ever fell out), König is so incredibly mad at this girl – is this what she wanted this whole time? A buff jerk who fucks her doggystyle until her knees bleed, who gives her the bare minimum, who barely even calls her when he’s away? (He has to physically restrain himself from doing that because of course he’d like to hear her pick up the phone with pure hope in her voice)

While changing his tactics and devising a plot to make her pay, König doesn’t even understand that he’s falling fast for her again while becoming now (seemingly) the best version of himself. It's only to dump her later, of course. He's just being nice so that she'll cry over losing him later. He brings her flowers, eats her out for hours, getting sick satisfaction from the way she cries about how it’s the best sex she’s ever had. He’s going to bring her to her knees, in more ways than just one... She’s going to remember him for the rest of his life when he rearranges her guts, ruining her for any other man.

König is becoming the thing he hates the most while she’s learned her lesson, now wearing her heart on her sleeve. No more shame and secrets, she’s not afraid to tell him how she feels! How she always had a small crush on him… And not even that small… How she loved to hear his presentations, no matter what silly subject they were about because he had actually done his research. How she could’ve swooned when his voice changed. After a short breaking period, he started to talk lower than anyone else in the class, earning himself more of that bullying because he sounded so manly at such a young age.

König is about to burst a blood vessel when hearing all this: she had a crush on him back then? What the actual fuck??

And then come the cuddles, the slow mornings, the coffee and toast, the showering together… She leaves her toothbrush in his place, and it stares at him accusingly from the side of the sink. She wears his t-shirts and looks absolutely gorgeous, mouth-watering and sweet in them. His sexy little minx, the one who didn’t get away…

Wait, what? No. No. No!

And when his high school sweetheart confesses her love for him for the first time, she's so open and vulnerable and sweet about it. Like she has been from the start, his sweet, sweet girl, exactly the kind of woman he always wanted to bring home to see his mom. König is about to lose his mind when she tugs at his shirt, almost cries when she says how much she loves him and couldn’t bear to live without him… She would cry herself to the grave if anything ever happened to him…

(König is like:)

#könig angst #könig fluff #mmm this is so nasty and delicious #they're practically soulmates #collaborating with other writers #könig x highschool sweetheart

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toxicanonymity · 8 months

Text

fires (aches prequel)

1650, Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: optional prequel to: Aches, Thoughts, and ✨Needs. started as lore, thanks for asking @thesummerpetrichor 🖤 POV changes. SUMMARY: You meet Joel, start traveling with him, and sexual tension ebbs and flows before you lose your sleeping bag. WARNINGS: I8+, fluff, sexual tension, arousal, brief jacking off.

You were the last of your group, trying to make your way to Jackson to find a family member. When Joel first found you trying to read a map, you were skittish and didn't want to tell him where you were trying to go. He asked if you needed anything and you said no, even though you couldn't sleep at night because you were so scared, and you were starving. You declined his help and quickly went on your way. You ran into him a couple more times after that, and he was polite but kept a respectful distance.

One night when you were trying and failing to make a fire, he came up and offered his help. You initially told him it was fine, no thank you. Then he spared your pride by saying, "No sense in both of us makin' a fire if we can share one." He felt bad for you. You didn't tell him much about yourself, but when he told you even the dryest, shortest version of his story--lost a daughter, nothing left here, headed west--your walls came down. You camped together that night, kind of, like 20 ft apart. You felt a strange mix of comfort and nervousness having him close by. You left early in the morning so you wouldn't have to talk to him. You were feeling shy.

The next day, you stumbled on infected. Joel showed up out of nowhere and barked orders at you, telling you to "get down!" then "behind me, now!" He sniped them off like it was nothing before they got close enough to touch you. You were shaken of course. He got you somewhere safe, then said it'd be safer if the two of you traveled together. He was disturbed that you didn’t even have any weapons left. That night, you didn't know if it was just the effect of everything that happened (his yelling echoed in your head), but you had a feeling in your tummy whenever he spoke, whenever the fire would catch the silver of his beard. You couldn’t take your eyes off his biceps, either. You didn’t register it as attraction right away. It never occurred to you that you could be attracted to someone that old.

The daily dynamic was outwardly platonic but that effect of his voice, his face, his muscles, that never went away. It only got stronger. He was strong, and handsome, he looked out for you. You didn’t talk much, but you got to know a little more about each other like your shared destination and the relatives you were hoping to find.

–

The turning point was when you encountered infected together one evening around dusk, and it was a much closer call than the first incident. After sniping them off, Joel hugged you and quickly got you to safety, reassuring you, “you’re okay, sweetie, i got you.” He made a fire as soon as you found a good place. He felt guilty that he hadn't already set up camp for the night before this happened. It was too dark to still be walking.

By the fire light, he examined you for bites, and continued to reassure you. “Shhhh, it’s okay, you’re safe.” He seemed to be reassuring himself, too. He looked at your arms and the back of your neck. Then he glanced at your torso and got awkward.

“ I don’t–i don't gotta look, but if ya want– if ya wanna look at yourself," he gestured toward his own torso, "uh, it might be a good idea.”

“Do you mind doing it?” You tearfully asked him.

“Oh, uh. . . darlin’, I–” He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Please? I wanna know I’m okay.”

After a long pause, he said “Okay, sweetie.”

You wanted to be sure you weren’t bit, so you could have peace of mind and get to sleep. He was hesitant about it, gently lifting your shirt, which gave you butterflies. Then you started to take it off entirely, and he swallowed and looked away for a moment. You didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on your breasts with a different gaze. He turned you around by curling his thick fingers around your back and nudging you toward him to rotate. "Turn around a sec," he murmured lowly. That was the spark. The gentle nudge of his fingers made your skin feel ten degrees hotter. The crackle of the fire loudly filled the heated silence of the moment as he checked out the skin on your back.

You asked him to look at your legs. He pulled up your pants legs one at a time as far as they would go to check your calves and ankles. Your heart raced as his fingers skimmed your skin when he rolled each pants legs up. In the fire light you watched his face and it was the closest you seen him. His facial lines and marks made him look like an action hero. His eyes were deep and thoughtful.

He rolled down your pants legs and said beyond that you were probably okay, since your pants weren't ripped. There was a new heartbeat between your legs. The buzz of his innocent touch lingered on your skin all night. That's when you admitted to yourself that you had a crush on him. You caught yourself feeling a little disappointed he didn't take down your pants earlier.

—--

At first, Joel saw you as just a girl. The injustice of you having to make it on your own dominated his view of you. He also saw you as a liability. The fact that you wouldn't accept his help at first meant he had to keep track of you as well as any danger. If you perished and he could've done something to stop it, it would eat him up. He didn't know how many more deaths he could carry with him.

Then he got to know you, and you were the first person to make him smile in... he didn't know how long. Despite the world around you, you still delighted in the smallest things and it was infectious. He began to smile to himself if he saw something he thought you might like. Your face lit up at certain plants and flowers. You were someone special to protect at all costs. As you opened up, hearing about your life who you lost started to make you seem a little older, like someone he could actually relate to.

Then, that night when he was checking your skin by the fire, he was faced with the hard evidence of what it meant for him that you were a woman, or what it could mean. What what men and women often became together, and what could become of your duo. It wasn't just the curves of your body in the flickering fire light, it was the way you looked at him darkly as your tears faded. He knew that look well, but hadn't seen it in a long time. He started getting hard and discreetly adjusted himself. You probably weren't even aware of what he could see on your face, so he didn't want to read anything into it in terms of intent. But that look... He couldn't get that look out of his head, and the feeling of your soft skin wouldn't leave his rough fingertips.

He talked to you a little differently after that night. No more asking you what you learned and liked in school. Long silences were more frequent but remained comfortable. During certain silences, he found himself thinking more about whether you had boyfriends and what you did with them. He tried not to pry, but one day he asked.

You told him you didn't have much of a chance to experience any of that, and a long silence ensued. He was afraid anything he said (“sorry”? “that's too bad"?) might sound perverted, and he didn't want you to shut down on him. His heart swelled at a passing thought that he could be your first everything, and he pushed it away, feeling strange about your age and embarrassed at the thought. But that same night, by the fire he saw that look in your eyes again. And then, after saying good night, his thoughts returned.

He thought about the possibilities, and his heart swelled again, and his cock swelled, too, and it wouldn't go away. He held his stiff manhood, and it throbbed in his hand. Soon enough he was quietly spitting in the same hand, trying to make small movements and control his breathing. He forced himself to think of other women, past experiences, but his mind always returned to you with your hands on it, or your mouth, or just the way you smiled, but mostly that look, burned in his eyes. When he came with the softest grunt, he imagined your chest all shiny with his cum.

Something in him was waking up from a long slumber, and he didn't like it. It was a distraction. He knew if he fed the beast it wouldn't leave, so he put it out of his mind and tried not to indulge the urge again.

Just a few days later, you encountered a hostile group and lost your sleeping bag. He slept on the dirt and let you have his bag to yourself, but the whole time, you felt cold and weird. After a couple nights of that, you told him there was no sense in him being on the dirt when there was room in the bag and you were cold.

The first time he got hard against you, you didn’t flinch or move away. He did, but you didn't. You didn't flinch the next time either, although you did take a deep breath. He said sorry and asked if you were okay, and you said yes. He figured it didn’t bother you, and there was no need to further address it.

There was nothing he could do about it anyway.

------

Continue to smut: Aches, Thoughts, and Needs.

Thank you for reading, love you guys.

------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x virgin!reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction

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sleepyhutcherson · 2 months

Text

sleepy?

mike, who usually shies away from physical touch in public is suddenly touch starved.

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 0.8k

contains: established relationship, mike struggles with physical touch, fluff and nothing else really :)

a/n: i restarted this several times but finally got a version i liked. anyway, thank you for requesting ⭐️ anon!! i accidentally deleted your request so i hope you find this <3 also i’ve not seen “anyone but you” so there’s no mention of the movie at all, sorry but i hope you still enjoy it <3 im currently working on everyone’s requests, i have about like 3 mike requests and a billy one soo expect that soon :p

Mike wasn’t usually very affectionate, you didn’t mind that, you understood that it was harder for him than for you. He wasn’t completely drawn from touching you, though, but only when you two were alone, he never really felt comfortable being touchy out in public.

Leaving the theatre room he’s quick to pull you to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. You immediately tense up, surprised by the sudden touch, you giggle in response. “What?” He asks, a shy smile on his face now, his cheeks tinted pink slightly.

“Nothing,” you reply, a little flustered yourself, honestly. You both walk out of the cinema, Mike’s arm never leaving your waist. Once outside he stops you, positioning himself in front of you, both of his hands on your waist to keep you still.

“What were you giggling at in there, hm?” He asks, raising a brow, trying his best to keep himself from just leaning down and kissing you right there.

Sure Mike wasn’t comfortable enough showing much affection in front of crowds but it didn’t mean he didn’t desperately crave your touch, your lips, your skin every passing second he was around you. He always kept himself contained nevertheless but something about the way you continuously touched him while watching the movie made him absolutely weak. It was dark in the theatre room, barely any people inside, so he was more relaxed when he felt your fingers playing with the end of his curls, or the way traced his arm with your finger…it was too much for him, but of course he didn’t stop you—he loved it.

“It’s just you’re usually so…you know,” you reply, allowing your hands to rest behind his neck. He melts into your touch, you catch the way his body softens from the bit of tension he had from being this intimate outside. It was late out so there was really no one outside but it was still a lot for Mike, he never understood why it was so difficult for him to be affectionate around people but it is, and he feels incredibly lucky to have someone like you who doesn’t pressure him.

“I know,” he replies, sheepishly. His hands are still on your waist, he kneads at the soft skin there covered by the fabric of your shirt feeling a sudden comfort. “I just…” his words fail him, feeling too embarrassed to say anything now.

“It’s okay, Mike. I wasn’t teasing you or anything,” you tangle your fingers with a few of his curls knowing this always eased him. “I’m really glad you felt comfortable to kiss me inside. You did really well, I hope you know that.” You smile with such a proud look on your face that Mike nearly comes undone at your praise.

He turns a bright red and it earns him a laugh from you. “You’re so flustered!” You point out which just makes it worse. He smiles, tucking his face into the crook of your neck wanting nothing else but to hide right now. God, he was so easy to tease, you loved it and you knew he secretly loved it, too.

“You’re going to kill me, you know?” Mike says, you can feel his smile brushing against your skin, it sends shivers throughout your entire body. If anything he was going to kill you.

You run your hand through his hair the way you knew he liked it. You plant a kiss on top of his head before pulling him back to get a better look at him. Your hands are softly pressed against his cheeks, and you notice how hazy and sleepy his eyes look due to you playing with his hair.

“Sleepy?” You ask, staring into Mike’s eyes that look so soft, well, softer than usual. He nods, a small tired smile on his lips. “Let’s go home then and sleep.”

“Okay.” He agrees. He doesn’t let go of you immediately, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, his eyes never leaving you. You were so lovely to him. You were so great, so perfect, and he felt so fortunate to have you all to himself. Without another warning his hands travel up to your jaw, gently holding you for a moment before pulling you in for a small, innocent kiss. His lips are soft against yours in that brief moment, despite wanting more you feel rather pleased by the kiss. There’s a huge smile on his face when he pulls back, eyes still droopy with sleep, and before you know it he’s leaning back in this time for a more passionate kiss, it’s soft, short, and somehow still innocent like the first but it’s so ineffable.

He pulls back with a small laugh, brushing his thumb against the bottom of your lip. “Let’s go home.”

#mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt comfort #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt smut #fnaf #mike schimdt x you #josh hutcherson fluff #mike schmidt angst #josh hutcherson #fnaf movie

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silverflqmes · 1 month

Note

Do you have any hcs for yandere Sephiroth? 👀

໒⦂ ‘𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄’ 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hi hi so uh i don’t do yandere stuff, it’s not a topic i’m super comfortable with writing ( as mentioned in my rules ) but i will provide a more subtle, toned down version if that’s okay instead :’)

genre. angst + suggestive

tw. possessive behavior, implied manipulation, jealousy

disclaimer. there is a visible flip in the headcanons from pre nibleheim sephiroth to post — which takes on a darker approach. if it’s not something you are comfortable with reading, then don’t.

sephiroth x gn!reader.

⌗ as a person who dealt with the loss of those he allowed into his life, having brought his walls down for them.. i do think sephiroth might have developed a bit of overprotective behavior — which honestly, is expected..

⌗ he doesn’t want to lose you or for any harm to come your way. whether losing you refers to death.. or to someone else — he doesn’t want any of that to come to fruition.

⌗ everything in life he cherished has been taken from him and you are not about to be one of them..

⌗ normally he’s as cool as a pickle if you’re talking to someone else, but there’s this aura emitting from him.. one look at sephiroth and the innocent bystander is practically shaking in their boots.

⌗ you of course — would be confused as hell on this.. i mean when sephiroth pulls you closer, you just assume he wants proximity..

⌗ until you go home, that is, and he’s just holding you without any means of letting go.. it’s silly, watching that subtle, yet visible pout of his and the furrow to his brows and all is understood

⌗ piece of you by shawn mendes tbh that is where my brain is rn

⌗ sometimes it’s a little more than an inescapable hug and turns into a storm of kisses — perhaps even a mark or few would be left in his wake.. but nothing that makes you uncomfortable cuz he doesn’t want to hurt or force you into anything. consent!!

⌗ while he has selfish desires and would prefer to have you all to himself, he values boundaries and freedom — it’s something he wasn’t given and he isn’t about to take that away from you, too.

⌗ but if you were trying to get a reaction out of him by PURPOSELY trying to make him jealous.. good LUCK walking in the morning are the only words i have for you LMAO

⌗ there is after care tho trust and it’s all part of the plan because he gets to have you stay over and spend time with him<3 which — despite your grumbles — you are more than happy to do<3

⌗ now uh, post nibelheim sephiroth.. he is a different case cuz he’s under the influence of jenova cells — which are obviously making him do some wild stuff..

⌗ following the concept that you would have said cells opens up the opportunity to mess with you a bit, as a means of getting you to execute his whims. kinda like he does with cloud..

⌗ he’s aware you’re trying to take him back and save him from what he’s become, and uses that to his advantage. you would do anything for him, wouldn’t you?

⌗ slowly, he would isolate you from your companions — they want him gone, anyway, but you don’t. you couldn’t sit with the idea of your lover being gone, even in spite of all he had done.

⌗ you told yourself it wasn’t him, and it was true, it wasn’t. for that.. you wished to continue your attempts at saving him, even if it was a descent into madness..

⌗ gradually, you are succumbing to his words, allowing them to reshape the view you had made for yourself.

⌗ he was right, anyway. the humans who blindly believed in shinra- were the ones that gave the company the power and means of further destroying the planet for their glory. sephiroth was right in almost every way to execute the goals he made for himself.

⌗ he only ever appeared briefly to you, his caresses leaving enough of a linger to leave you touch starved — yearning for contact.

⌗ the one winged angel only whispered soon in that velvety tone of his, a reassurance of the reunion that would be upon you both in time.

⌗ but at times, you pressed, pleading for just another second — minute or few of his time.. and with that desperation in your voice, the expression that crosses your features, how could he refuse you?

⌗ he would spare his precious time and entertain you a moment longer, indulging just a bit in you, and himself, of course. but once more leaving you lingering, longing for more.

notes. not one for writing yandere oriented content, so i hope this was okay and fulfilling enough since i watered it down quite a bit :’) just not super comfy associating him with the qualities of a yandere..

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

#— ; 🏹 ) final fantasy vii fics.#sephiroth x y/n #sephiroth x you #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #sephiroth ff7 #sephiroth ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth headcanons #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy sephiroth

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angelmichelangelo · 1 year

Text

the dad diaries for @turrondeluxe ❤️

if anybody doesn’t know, the peepaw and babies au has TOTALLY taken over my brain like. in the best way possible so of course i just had to write a lil fic for it <3 i hope u like this, amigo! i have other little ideas floating around in my head if you’d ever want more fic version of your au :) anyway enough rambling ENJOY!! everybody go check out the au i’m fairly certain everything is archived on @peepawronin for your enjoyment :-)

His coffee, as strong as it may, didn’t deter the headache that was blossoming behind his tired, weary eyes from expanding; creeping across the front of his skull with each steady pulse of his heartbeat.

He takes another sip, steels himself to see if perhaps the magic he knows does not truly exist has worked and…

“Papa!”

There’s the sound of his youngest, voice thick with babyish chub still, carrying across the lair with determination, tallying around inside his squeezing head like a brash drum cymbal.

Before he can push himself up off his stool, it goes off again, shrill and impatient,

“Papa! Papa! I’m telling!”

That was nothing new for Michelangelo these days, that familiar old phrase, minced with saccharine dramatics, he’s blinking his eyes hard to starve off the rest of the headache that threatens him; the kind that travels down the back of his skull and towards his shell and over his spine and makes him feel about a million years old.

He heaves a sigh. He already feels a million years old these days, what with the trophies of his days gone by evident across his aging body, like his trick knee and the ache he gets in his elbow when it perhaps rains a little too hard. It’s one thing to feel it physically, but the added bonus of it being emotional as well weighs just a touch too heavy for his liking.

He comes to a stop in the pit where the sounds are louder and more pitchier, and there’s two little turtles to accompany them, faces all pinched into varying degrees of annoyance.

It’s Odyn who reaches him first, as it often is, he’s a daddy’s boy at heart, little tiny legs carrying him the small distance that separates them, he goes barrelling into the larger, older turtle, face first into his pant leg. He’s gripping the edges of the fabric with three little fingers, giving it a sharp tug when he says with a rush of air,

“Papa, Uno is being mean again!” He whines, pressing his snout into Mikey’s leg. “He keeps calling me names!”

Uno has since joined their fray now, chest heaving with each stuttered breath as if the idea of being accused of such a thing is stunting each draw of air into his lungs.

“No I didn’t!” He retorts, voice all pitchy and nasally. Michelangelo groans softly to himself. “He’s just being a baby! Like he always is!”

Such a spiteful word directed towards their youngest is enough to erupt a hurtful sob from the smaller turtle. He buries his face further into his fathers leg, his voice warbled and muffled from both the tears the the mouth full of pant he has right now, but Mikey is able to carefully decipher it of something along the lines of, (in true irony),

“See! He keeps calling me a baby!”

He pries his son’s iron grip off from his leg, forcing him to look upwards with a tap of his finger beneath his damp chin. Fat tears roll down his cheeks, framing his face almost perfectly, he looks at his child sternly.

“You know not to take it to heart, hm? Do you eat baby food and wear diapers?”

Odyn sniffles, bringing a fist up to scrub away at the snot collected beneath his snout.

“No?”

Mikey hums. “And do you chew on furniture and need papa’s help to feed yourself?”

Odyn shakes his head. “No, papa.”

Michelangelo grins softly. “Then you’re not a baby. You know that, I know that.” He looks pointedly at his other son who is unmovable under his gaze. “Uno knows that. He only says it to get a rise out of you, right?”

Odyn’s bottom lip wobbles dangerously. “Yes,” he says in a rush, “but—”

Michelangelo is swift to cut in. “But I will deal with your brother. Okay?”

Odyn doesn’t seem entirely swayed; Michelangelo thinks that maybe he wanted some sort of permission to perhaps say a bad word directed at his brother, or maybe to have it out in a short scrap and there as kind of emotional compensation that only siblings would believe to be a reliable source of insurance against name calling.

But the smaller turtle eventually heaves a heavy, wet sigh, and nods his head solemnly.

“Good. Go play with your sisters,” Michelangelo instructs him, tapping him gently against the ridge of his shell. “I think they’re coloring. Will you make me something pretty?”

That gets his spirits up, the smile beaming across his face so bright, it might as well evaporate his previous tears left behind on his cheeks.

“Okay!” He calls out with delight as he toddles off to join his other, much quieter siblings on the far side of the room. Mikey watches them as they scoot aside and make space for him, offering up a fresh slice of paper, he’s already making grabby hands for the brightest crayons they own.

“He’s always getting me into trouble.”

That’s Uno’s low, forbidding voice, all full of that way too early angst that he recognises from himself and his brothers in their adolescent years, and when Mikey turns to face him, he’s sullen.

He doesn’t wait to hear whatever wisdom his father might be able to offer, instead, his bottom lip is trembling like it’s heavy with the weight of all the words he wishes to say; all the woes and the hurt that comes with having little brothers, and suddenly, with his face drawn in such an expression and his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight, Michelangelo sees a glimpse of Raphael in this child.

“You know, I was the youngest of my brothers,” Michelangelo explains to him. He motions for him to follow as they leave the pit, letting the soft voices of the other children behind them as they walk back towards the kitchen from which he came. “I pulled the same tricks he pulls from time to time.”

Uno pauses his end of conversation to clamber on top of the barstool that wobbles slightly under his swaying weight. Michelangelo steadies it with a hand until his son is fully situated, and once he is, he’s swiveling around to face the older turtle, still sporting the same, sour expression across his younger face.

“Then why’d you let him get away with it?” He says, words barbed, like this was somehow his fault now. “It’s not fair, papa.”

And Michelangelo chuckles softly. There are the glimpses of Donatello that shine through, like bright sunshine filtering through curtains in the early morning in hues of gold – that sharp intellect that constantly comes with its millions of almost unanswerable questions.

“Because I also know what my older brothers were capable of,” he tells him gently. “They did all they could to push my buttons, to get me in trouble. They knew how to play the game without getting themselves a foul.”

Uno heaves a loaded sigh, his plastron rising and falling, his hardened glare seems to melt away a little as he allows his father’s words to soak in.

“I just hate him,” he says suddenly, words dark and low. “He’s so annoying.”

Michelangelo stiffens at that. And at his father’s physical reaction, Uno shrinks a little, aware of what he’d just said; how loaded his words were.

“You don’t hate him.” Michelangelo tells him, Uno’s gaze gingerly lifts to meet his. “You are annoyed by him, yes, but hate is such a strong word, musko-san.”

Uno’s dark eyes flicker across the room with nerves, caught out, he wrings his hands together, as if trying to rid himself of the nervous energy that this conversation was building within him.

“I’m sorry chichi,” he says in a small voice. “That was mean. I don’t hate Uno.”

Michelangelo hums. “I know.” Then, “You know how I know?”

Uno shakes his head.

“The time you taught him kanji,” he begins to list. “Or when he lost a tooth and you soothed him because he was hurt.” He watches with pride as a small smile ghosts across his child’s face. “Or whenever you read to him before bed, even when it’s the stories you have already heard before.”

Uno rubs tiredly at his eyes; all of these emotions are a lot to bear for such a small boy.

“I know you love your brother, Uno,” Michelangelo tells him, tapping a green finger beneath his chin to gather his focus. “I know because I see so much of your oji in your soul.” He smiles warmly at his son. “Each one of them,” he adds, moving his finger down from his face to rest across his plastron, right over where his heart lies. “Right here, hm?”

Uno shifts in his seat, the old, worn barstool groans under his growing weight, he pitches himself as far forward as he can go without toppling off, looking up at his father with big, round curious eyes.

“Really?” He says, voice clinging to an awed whisper.

“Really.” Mikey tells him with a stern nod. “Now go play,” he says quickly, flapping him away with a dismissive hand.

“Papa hasn’t had enough coffee this morning,” he mutters, pinching his eyes narrowly to try and avoid the impending headache that’s crawling back across his skull. “Try not to have anymore arguments until at least late afternoon, yes?”

Uno hops off his seat, almost tripping in the process, he stands tall when he tells him,

“That’s okay!” He’s smiling now. A sight Mikey is sure he’ll never truly tire of, no matter how many headaches life brings. “Maybe I can ask the others if I can draw too, and we’ll make you something nice to make you feel better, hm?”

Michelangelo reaches across the countertops for his discarded beverage from earlier. Curling his fingers around the mug, he finds with welcomed surprise that it’s still warm. “You better,” he tells him with an entirely serious tone surrounding his words, raising one brow ridge for emphasis. “I didn’t spend hours scavenging those crayons for nothing.”

And with that, Uno is padding off in the direction of where his other children are gathered; straining an ear he can hear their excitable chatter and babble as they continue to work together.

And when their eldest sibling joins in, there doesn’t seem to be any lasting animosity; Odyn shows off what he’s already made, pride and excitement swelling over whatever leftover hurt from their spat, and Michelangelo chuckles to himself as he listens to Uno’s gentle encouragement that floats through front the other room.

He brings the coffee mug to his lips, steam curls itself around his snout, and a smile touches at his face, the slightest of turns. He awards himself with another mouthful, and whilst it doesn’t do much to quell his migraine, it does feel deserved.

And later that night, when he has all four of his children growing heavy in his arms, fighting a battle against fatigue that they are bound to lose against, as it is most nights, he watches his as Uno shuffles in closer to his brother, his pudgy little arm draped across the slope of his shell, and Odyn, his jaw slack, drool dried across his chin, his soft snores only just about disturbing the silence that falls across the room, he seems to curl into his brother’s offered warmth and Michelangelo smiles softly to himself.

Here in his lap are his children – the little turtles that call him papa and rush to him to settle disputes and disagreements, and to kiss scraped knees and to devote each of their wobbly crayon drawings to him that end up covering the fridge and the kitchen walls in a decoration of color and love and he knows that even with coffee, even with the best coffee in the world, all of this is worth a thousand bad headaches. Tomorrow might bring peace and tranquility and ease, or perhaps it shall be Yi and Moja that decide to scrap and fight or maybe all four will fall out of love momentarily, as siblings often do.

Michelangelo should know, he’s been one his entire life, even if his brothers are no longer here to push his buttons or fight him or argue over petty, useless things, he knows with great ease, that despite it all, they always found their way back together, whether it was over something big or small – that was the love between brothers and family.

He presses his sleeping turtles closer to him, curling his arms around them, they melt around his warmth and he knows that much like his group of siblings, these four here, were no exception to the same rules.

He closes his eyes and basks in the moment, acutely aware in the moment of quiet, of the headache that has finally shrunk itself away.

#tmnt idw #tmnt last ronin #tmnt the lost years #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fic #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt au

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kaeddehara · 1 year

Text

I WISH YOU WERE MINE — NSFW

even though rin itoshi knows you’re not his, he can’t help but act like you are anyway <3

♱ warnings — smut but more fluffy + kinda ooc rin (i tried) + friends to lovers <3 + rin becomes very possessive of you

♱ a/n notes — hey sooo another rin fic…i promise i’m working on much larger works but school and work are killing me. please forgive me i’ll give you what you guys deserve but for now, take this. also, apologies for ignoring my inbox. i am still taking requests but please be patient with my slow responses !!

“hey, you feeling alright?”

rin stops to look you in your eyes, his almost same deadpan look he usually wears still on his face. you give a soft “yeah” before leaning back in to continue the make out session you were induced in before rin took his lips off yours to speak. rin backed away more though, making you surprised then disappointed? did he not want this?

“rin i…”

“do you really want this that’s what i’m asking”

“yes- of course i do!”

your eagerness did not catch rin off guard in the slightest. in fact, he expected you to be practicing begging for him by the time he’d removed his lips from yours. leaning back in fully, he caught your lips right back where he had them. kissing you with such deep motions and passion you could barley handle how quickly he moved. carding your fingers through his soft, dark hair as a means to keep him close to you.

he thinks you look so beautiful when you’re desperate for him.

he wishes he could see you like this more, but relationships aren’t so easy for rin. the kissing and the touching was all a distraction from what truly lied beneath both of your skin. knowing that neither of you were even close to being committed in a relationship like one should be when taking part in this. rin gave you no reason to believe it wasn’t because he didn’t want to kiss you, but because you guys were just friends. nothing more, up until now of course.

though, you preferred not to think about that. not when you felt his large, calloused hands begin to wrap around your waist, fitting to snugly in a way no one else could capture you in. even through his actions, he always found ways to claim you without even saying a word. it was something that always drew people in rin in general—you thought. in the moment though, nothing mattered more than that blissful feeling you’d be starved of.

watching rin carefully take his shirt off in a quick yet alluring manner. he never failed to surprise you with how toned and shaped rins body was and knew what an effect he had on you. your eyes never once leaving his bare torso as he leaned down yet again over you, letting his hot breath hit your chest and neck as he slipped a hand underneath your top. his cool touch soothing your nervous body as he cupped a hand around your pretty tits. a soft moan leaving your lips as rin continued to fondle your chest with a gently touch you’d never seen him give to anyone else.

the both of your gradually became more bare in front of each other and couldn’t wait a second longer. rin already had every inch of your body stuck in his head before he even slipped inside you. with just how dripping wet you were, preparation was easy and took no time at all. before you knew it, your legs were wrapped around rins torso and nails digging into his back as he pounded into you. using practically all his weight to make each thrust feel deeper and deeper inside you—making sure you were full. you could barley even think with the size rin was but on top of that, his powerful movements hindered you weak underneath him. it was then again he admired how beautiful you were—he’d admired you all night but this version of you was something he wanted no one else to see. only him. you were his.

“you’re mine you got that?”

rin mumbled, breathing staggered and heart pounding in his chest. a few shaky moans and a few more slow thrusts were all it took to get the answer out of you.

“y-yes i’m all yours rin”

as if on cue, so many feelings rippled inside of him non-stop and he had no choice but to prove his words true to you. that sweet and gently look in your eyes was soon lost as rin picked the pace back up. the sound of your skin meeting each other and the sounds you both made were almost too sinful for rin to handle. he couldn’t hide his shame anymore because he too was lost in the pleasure. more whines and whimpers came from his lips as he soon finished by pulling out and letting all his remains coat your pretty skin. your frantic breathing only made the scene even more sensual as all his hot cum dropped down your torso down to his sheets. both of you in awe at the remnants of the aftermath you both were experiencing in that moment. putting a hand up to rins cheeks, you admired his gorgeous features even more in the afterglow.

“god you’re so pretty”

you mumbled, barley noticing you actually said your thoughts aloud and rin couldn’t help but let a pleased smile make its way to his lips. even though he felt wrong before, he knew it was right. he belonged here with you and nothing was going to change that.

“you as well, sorry i got you all messy.”

the weary and slightly embarrassed tone in his voice gave away everything as his gaze turned away.

“nothing to apologize about, i like that way it looks on me anyway.”

you taunted at him in rasped tone. his gaze turned back to yours not before leaning back in for one final kiss of that evening. it was so deep and beautiful you felt as if another round with rin maybe wasn’t such a bad idea. it was only until you tried to move your body that you soon realized a second round would have to be put on hold so you could recover.

“got me sore already rin”

“it’s not my fault”

“it completely is you dummy”

“you better be grateful i gave you something, i could tell you’d been needing that huh?”

that deep, husky tone in his voice drove you insane but also how confident he sounded in himself. and judging from the huge mess rin made all over your pretty skin, it seemed like both of you had needed that <3.

#kaeddehara #rin itoshi smut #blue lock smut #rin smut #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #bllk smut #rin itoshi #bllk x reader #rumi writing ^•ﻌ•^ฅ #☕️#🗡

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prettylittlels · 4 months

Text

I Can See You

summary: You meet Rachel's costar at the academy gala, what will happen next? (tom blyth x actress!reader)

inspired by I Can See You (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

💋⚘️❤️‍🔥💥🍬💄

As an actress, I spend a 70% of my time meeting and interacting with actors, actresses, singers, directors, producers, and people who work in the same industry as i do. A 90% of those people are just passers, travelers that only visited my life. Only very few manage to stay, important enough to make me care for and about them: true friends. Like Rachel Zegler, for example. I met her at the 2022 Golden Globes afterparty, and we kicked off a nice friendship. And a rather weird one, might i add. Rach and I enjoy playing rather exquisite games: i make her try the most horrendous food i find, and she tries to find the perfect man for me.

-Rach, I already told you- i tell her, laughing without even trying - I've lost hope! You gotta accept that i don't have a love life!-

-You're lying to yourself! - she smiles with me- You think I haven't seen the way you look at every couple we meet?-

Maybe she was right. I haven't had a boyfriend in years, maybe I am a little touch-starved. But that was until I met him.

You brush past me in the hallway

And you don't think I, I, I can see ya, do ya?

I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

As an actress, i spend a lot of time bring invited to galas and events. Tonights entertainment was the Academy's annual gala. I picked out a gorgeous black sparkly dress that caught everyones attention, as I imagined. Getting out lf the car, I slowly made my way to the red carpet, starting to pose for the flashing cameras. Shouts and screams came from everywhere i went. Not only for me, of course; in fact, thay were yelling Rachel's name too when i arrived. She came up to me and gave me a big hug, as we started to take pictures together. I also noticed that a certain co-star of hers, was looking our way. Don't you think I can't see you?

But what would you do if I went to touch you now?

What would you do if they never found us out?

What would you do if we never made a sound?

As an famous actress, I can't just do whatever I want and say whatever i please. The cameras are everywhere. But God, did I want to go talk to you.

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me

And I could see you up against the wall with me

And what would you do, baby, if you only knew?

That I can see you

As an actress, people expect me to be there when they need me, available for everyone and waiting for directions. But, only this time, I was waiting for something else to happen. When I walked down the hidden hallway on my way to the women's bathroom, you were there. I didn't want to do anything reckless! But here we are.

And we kept everything professional

But something's changed, it's somethin' I, I like

They keep watchful eyes on us

So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet

You won't believe half the things I see inside my head

Wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened yet

Tom and I started dating shortly after the gala. Being with him was everything I needed: he's a gentleman, a caring person, a funny one, and of course, a very sexy one. The weeks passed and we were both as happy as ever. After the night we met, the cameras that caught our longing stares published the photos and the public strted going crazy, speculating and giving their opinion about our encounter. Oh, they have no idea.

That I could see you throw your jacket on the floor

I could see you make me want you even more

What would you do, baby, if you only knew?

That I can see you

They had no idea that how it was being In a relationship with tom. The envious fangirls wished they were me. They don't I know that I can see him for what he truly is. They don't know that I can see him discarding his clothes on the floor. Yes, even that leather jacket of his that I love so much

I could see you in your suit and your necktie

Passed me a note saying, "Meet me tonight"

Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah

And I could see you being my addiction

You can see me as a secret mission

Hide away and I will start behaving myself

I remember how I pulled you closer by your tie, and unbuttoned your shirt. How you admitted you've been watching me for ages. How we agreed to keep this a sceret, However, I knew he'd be like a drug. And I get drunk on it whenever he's around

I can see you.

I can see you, Tom.

#book recommendations #bookworm #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #x reader #tom blyth #Spotify

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darlingofvalyria · 7 months

Text

As the Princess of the Realm's most favoured maid, there are certain liberties you are privy to demand. Jealousy of the people surrounding your lady is not one of them. Amused, Rhaenyra wishes to show her jealous little darling that there is nothing to worry about.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ MIND MANIPULATION, BLOOD PLAY ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,763 ] [ masterlist ] | Vampire!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Maid!Reader

contains— smut, fluff - monsterfucking, hurt/comfort, jealousy, allusions to murders and kidnapping (not reader), mind manipulation, mentions of blood - this is a darkish fic - nsfw: monsterfucking, v and v sex, blood play(?), thigh riding, dubcon - no betas.

a/n— countess bathory rhae version. + Quick note: I don't actually remember/know if a crown princess is higher in stature to a queen consort. I know a queen at least is higher than a crown princess... but in this fic, i'm making it so that a king's direct/crowned heir is higher in status to that of a queen consort, as in what i want you to understand here that a king's chosen heir has bigger power than someone who is only married to royalty and title. this is of course different than the show but eh. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You understand why they salivate after her like starved dogs for a hunt. Prowling, on the verge of humping the very ground she walks on.

Your princess is every consonant and vowel of her royal visage and title, adorned in jewels and gold, Valyrian steel interlaced across her throat and waist. Fat rubies in her ears, weighted layers of gold gleam across her collarbone with a Valyrian steel necklace that strung an almost black amethyst drop nestled in her bosom.

Rings of all kind adorned her fingers as she held a goblet, amused by whatever topic the Riverland Lord was saying with gusto, fat stomach straining against a leather belt.

In any feast, she is the star, unable to be shadowed by her enemies now that her confidence had bloomed. She presided every conversation, lords and ladies following her red mouth as much as her words, dominating circles of power with ease that surpassed her gender.

The Heir to the Iron Throne. The Realm's Delight.

You had never been prouder to say you serve such a woman, body and soul.

And at the same time, you cannot help the feeling of jealousy to flash like a quick strike of a dagger. It is not your mistress' fault that people stave off the attention she gives them. It isn't their fault either as you understand the sentiment. Once you've played in her hand, you are evermore enraptured by her.

But you're different. In a way.

As soon as the lord— a Lord Erodd Mudd, a vassal of House Tully who had proudly proclaimed to be an eager follower of the future Black Queen, henceforth his vassals flooding gifts and compliments to your princess — had gotten too close for comfort and too red from the overflowing Arbor Red, that as soon as you see the quick flash of Princess Rhaenyra's comfort threatened, you spring into action.

You move about dancing bodies and beautifully crafted ladies to get to her, your eye meeting her sword shield, the Ser Strong, with a nod. You know your strengths and weaknesses; wrangling a drunken lord physically is not one of them. Neither is a violent drunk, and there had been enough unsavoury gossip of the Lord Mudd for you to be on edge the minute he approached the princess.

You take a low bow in front of them at your sudden interruption, your voice calm but firm. "My princess, the Prince Joffrey is ready to be put to bed."

Rhaenyra smiles, gladdened of your quick feet and quicker thinking. "Thank you—"

"Audacious!" Lord Mudd squeaks, the spittle and stench of alcohol almost makes you grimace. Almost. "The princess is talking to a lord, she does not want—"

"— the princess does not permit others to speak on her behalf, much less about what she wants or thinks," you can't help but snap. "Please refrain yourself from doing so, my lord."

He purples in offence, fist shaking that you sidle up to move in front of the princess. "Oh why, how dare—"

You let out a breathless exhale at the appearance of Breakbones and his meaty hand on the lord's shoulder. "My lord. I'm afraid you've enough to drink. The night grows long." As the lord opens his mouth to retort, Harwin's smile sharpens is enough of a warning that he swallows and jerkily nods.

He bows to Rhaenyra. "G-good night, your grace."

Rhaenyra smiles amusedly, as if she is letting you in on a joke. "And to you, my lord. I will have a maestre prepare a concoction my... little brother uses in a time of head aches. He so prefers the sweet Red such as you."

As he bows again gratefully, Lord Mudd manages to shoot you a final glare before being escorted by Ser Harwin. For a brief moment as the revelry continues on, most guests now well into their cups and dreams to kiss your princess' arse, she laughs quietly in the privacy of your closure.

You snort softly. "I am glad the night has amused you thus far, my princess."

She giggles again. "How can I not? You had been glaring at the poor fool for the better time of the night. He had thought that he had offended me in some way, and was trying to appease with all sorts of ridiculous promises."

"Hm. What can a small vassal house by the name that means 'wet dirt' could possibly offer the princess of the realm?" You can't help but be haughty. Though you do recognise you are being a bit unfair to the lord, for he isn't just the only one who had pried the attention of the princess all night.

"A pretty new maid," Rhaenyra muses, making your blood freeze. "He said he's got a pretty collection of wenches, all well trained by his mother, whom I do know has a heavy teeth with her servants. Lord Tully has endorsed them so. Lady Tully as well. Oh, and that he has daughters fit to be ladies in waiting, should I want for more... high browed ladies."

You inhale deeply. "It is indeed... a good idea to expand your ladies. You are the Heir, higher in stature to the Queen Consort who has an army of ladies both in Great Houses and Vassals." You nod jerkily. "It is a smart idea, my princess."

Rhaenyra smirks, enjoying far too much the inner turmoil of your little head. You don't notice it, as you had perfected serving her for such a time and she is sure onlookers would see only a lady conversing with her maid, but when you are upset and trying not to show it, you blink three times as if wrangling your thoughts in order. There is only a small dip in your serene mouth that always makes her want to press it. Move it around. Then maybe bite you.

But if she touched you now, she would not stop. She knows her hunger very well, and in preparation for the three-day celebrations as well as handling her duties between council meetings and audiences with the common folk— she had not drank in a while.

If she touches you now, there would be no care for titles or eyes.

When she shudders faintly at the image, your keen eye sees it immediately. You see the faint pallor, the inch of peakiness. She had been consuming more and more raw meat, but animals barely curb the thirst.

"Shall I prepare your feast, my princess?"

She blinks at you, surprised. "My feast? Surely this is enough."

You're unable to stop your sigh as you look away. "My princess, surely, you don't think such a feat should go unrewarded? Lords of Great Houses are swayed to your cause. Their vassals are following suit. Even if a Great Council is demanded once more in your reign, the tide will turn for your favour."

"You do not know that." Rhaenyra laughs lightly as you are already shaking your head. "We should not tempt fate."

"You had been doing your duty unto the realm as its heir and its delight. We are tempering any whisper of revolt. Your win is marked in stone," you insist. "A reward is only just."

You scoot closer, pinching your voice low. Rhaenyra holds her breath with a sharp intake of air, a coil, nothing but a whisper, of your scent finds her nostrils and her hunger tightens in her stomach that her fangs sharpen. She bites her bottom lip hard.

"My apologies," you whisper. "But I know your hearing turns mortal when you have not eaten in a while. You must eat. The bustle for the celebration has been a good excuse to hire more alongside what we needed."

Her eyes flash. "... Maidens?"

"At least four of them, my princess."

She gasps, inhaling quickly and your scent comes first, the sweet imprint of your blood hums her own, but her eyes widen at the thick stench of maidens right in her room. Your gift. For your beloved. You smile, despite the niggling, pinch of jealousy that has a thick hold on your neck and Rhaenyra can smell it.

"The revelries will continue on," you say with finality, bowing. "The Prince Jacaerys is doing well with the Northern delegates thus far, and the Young Prince Lucerys has charmed the pirate lords from the Free Cities, as well as the Dornish Prince and his... mistresses. We are well here. I will keep an eye on your heirs. Enjoy yourself, my princess."

The revelries go well into the Hour of Owl before you give nod to the last of the guards and servants tasked with ensuring the more raucous guests find their way to their beds, moving along the quiet flutter of candlelight and sharp, slanting shadows like a wraith. Or a ghost. No one pays you any mind, and they know better.

You sweep straight into the princess' apartments, locking the doors behind you. The iron stench of blood is already thick here, seeping through the corners and clinging to the tapestries. You're used to it, even if the first times had been shaky in your memories. But your actions are a routine, moving to the tub filled thick with blood, almost to the brim, moving a finger through it, beads of blood clinging to you when you raise your hand, falling in slops back to the tub.

You hum along your duties, the actions of a routine is familiar... if not surgically placed into your mind, though the uncomfortable reminder strikes your head in a low, dull thud. Worrisome thought is a blunt knife to the steel guard your princess has wrought in your head.

For your protection, my sweet, Rhaenyra had purred, feeling her nails scratch in the fragments of your malleable brain.

Candles are flickering by the time your princess strides into her room, the heavy door deadbolting with a heavy thud. The stench of blood and her scent— grapefruit and vanille, a touch of something more ancient, cloying and heavy — thickens as you bow, your fingers in unlacing and getting her off the bloodied dress. It’s relatively clean, and she throws you a smirk for it. She knows you hate having to share just as much as she, and knows even better you would never make much fuss, but your chest warms at her thoughtfulness regardless.

She sinks with ease, a low, satiated hum escapes her lips.

“I will assume this is another present?” she teases. “No maidens?”

“Not after the Lannisport incident, no.” You regard her weightily but she only laughs. Sunk in blood, her paleness almost makes her glow. A goddess if nothing else. But her cheeks are also fuller, vibrancy clinging to her gold spun hair and gaze. “These were just as much eager to serve the crown as the young women were eager to serve their princess.”

Rhaenyra’s laugh is spoilt as much as it is indulgent. “And I am assuming you never told them the length or width of their servitude?”

She really does feel much better if she is in such a teasing mood.

“No,” theres a petulant, almost offended notch in your tone that you dont hide as well, if youre ever truly trying to hide it. The day wanes and the moon waxes, and you have been obedient all day.

Rhaenyra bites her lip. You have been good. And deserving. She leans forward, pressing herself back. “Come.”

You still, holding onto her oils. “I still have to wash your hair, princess, it has been an arduous day."

“It has, and you have done so well in pleasing me that I require you here, with me.” Her voice pitches, irises molting to a startling black. Your spine straightens and your gaze glosses. She hums, delighted to see that the full force of her prowess is back. Though it isnt truly much. The strings from your mind and body is one that she has owned long before. “Take off your dress, sweet girl, thats it, faster— and here, right on top of me.”

You are awake and dreaming, its a state you know quite well, but you move where she wants you, your strings hers for the taking, and you are up to your navel in blood before your mind catches up with thought that you are bare, bare before your princess as she looks up, her hands, soft and cold and wet with blood, moulding against the divots of your soft flesh.

She pulls you down with ease, so careful with your skin. Her hunger though fulfilled, the remnants of the creature within her still breathes. Your heartbeat is a siren song and the urge to devour you, to sink her teeth right in that throbbing, fluttering pulse— four maidens down her belly and her hunger for you is still so strong.

Your mind is your own when you have settled righto n her thighs, bracketing her between your own. A shuddering gasp leaves your mouth as she draws her hands from thighs to your centre to your breast to your jaw, pulling you to meet her mouth in a soft exploration between tongue and teeth.

It is kissing for beasts, for creatures trying to find pleasure unknown to them but hungering for it; her tongue tangling with yours, licking at the roof your mouth, her teeth, sharpened, tugging and grating against your soft lips. It is gluttonous as it is guttural, and you feel debased. But you like it, you like the clouding of your mind from pleasure, chasing the hums from her throat and smiling from her little laughs.

It is no wonder that your body craves, hips moving in an insistent, errant sway against her thigh that she laughs once more, finish suckling a bruise on your arched neck.

"Sīr needy hae iā līve, So needy like a whore," she purrs against your skin. "Are you my," she grips your buttocks and pulls you to her, though you stumble, you are still relatively on your knees and your pearl that is craving for attention hits against her stomach and you gasp, "little whore?"

"Yes," you murmur, arms wounding against her neck as she adjusts you more comfortably on her lap, watching intensely at your pleasure as she sits you down and starts moving your hips in a rhythm. "Y-yes I am."

She snakes a hand between you to pinch at your clit. You jolt.

"Manners."

"Yes, my queen!" You sob, head falling on her shoulder as your hips go faster, the blood is spilling, the smell of iron is so strong it fills your lungs, but your first relief is near and Rhaenyra hates denying you pleasure.

Even her punishments have always been to over feed you your own pleasure, indulge in the staccato wails broken by whines as your last peak has barely finished before she is making you reach it again.

"There she is, my sweet girl."

She helps your thighs, moving you faster and faster as she drinks in your skewered brows and hanging mouth, taking a breast into her mouth and laving it with her tongue, groaning at the blood and suckling deep. You will be blooming with bruises come morn and she cannot wait to see the spring she has created on your skin. You are so delicate, so... human. Your fragility is a beauty she enjoys.

Like right now, when your pleasure catches up to you fast and she has made it a mission not to touch your cunt at all, maintaining your movement even as you whine deep in your chest, your forehead falling to her shoulder as you twitch and shudder. When you garble her name, falling your please, p-please, 'smuch, she stops, running her hands instead to your sides, cupping your breasts faintly before she's nudging against your nose until you give in with what she is silently asking: soft, tugging kisses.

"Deep breaths, sweet one," she whispers against your mouth when she pulls away, "I will take more of your pleasure. All the sweet maidens in these lands are nothing to the taste of you." For emphasis, her other hand is already between your thighs, brushing insistently against your pearl.

Teasing, always teasing. You shudder.

"Your pleasure is much your reward as it is mine. Now, once more. On my fingers." She bares her fangs, another light laugh that tugs at your core because it is full of promises. "Then against my cunt."

Because Rhaenyra gives as much as she takes.

And she wants everything you... 'willingly' give.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra smut #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #kinktober 2023 #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra fanfic #hotd smut #hotd x you #︶꒦꒷♡ elle tries kinks ♡꒷꒦︶#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

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igotanidea · 8 months

Text

(3) Cheater : dick grayson!version

Long awaited part 3 - as promised.

@fullbelieverheart - I really hope I'll live up to your expectations of me and this story :D

part 1

part 2

***

9 months ago

“No.”

“This was not a question, Dick.”

“Still the answer is no.”

When Bruce called Dick to the batcave and explained to him his role in the plan The Batman masterminded, Dick felt like laughing.

At first.

Until he realised that Bruce was being absolutely serious with wanting his oldest son to get into a fake relationship with a girl named Sienna. Apparently, she was loosely connected with one of the Gotham’s crime lord and this was a way to get to her relative. It was crazy and to say the least, Dick felt offended at the mere thought of going through with this horrendous idea.

“I’m not a piece of meat, Bruce! And we can’t use an innocent girl for your scheming!”

“but we will.”

“Come on!” Dick threw his hands in the air in pure frustration

“Is this about this little journalist you met?” Bruce grunted at his son “What was her name again? Y/N?”

Dick sighed. He could keep on denying, pretending that he had no idea what Bruce was talking about but there was no point. And maybe, maybe, admitting that he felt something for Y/N would made his adoptive father soften?

“Yes…..” he admits

“Forget about her.”

“What?!”

“You heard me Dick.”

“But…..”

“You have duties to this city.”

“But….!”

“Enough Dick. There are lives at stake. You have to think like Nightwing, not like Dick Grayson, now. Do you want people to die?”

“Please….. Bruce…. Ask someone else for this…. Please….” He tried to bargain, but he knew well enough it was a lost cause. Who else could possibly do the job? Jason?

“End of discussion. “

***

Dick was torn. On one hand he wanted to protect people and get whatever criminal was on the loose down. On the other he also wanted Y/N. It didn’t matter he barely met her. The feelings she gave him were incomparable with anything else. He wanted her with intensity he never thought possible. He knew he couldn’t just go and forget about her. Not with her pretty smile and pretty eyes and her messy hair and her positive energy.

So-

The only option was to play on both fields.

***

“Oh, God! I am so sorry! I swear I can be so clumsy sometimes……”

He choose the most cliché way to become acquainted with Sienna. He simply went to the same coffee shop she did every day and accidentally bumped into her, spilling coffee all over. Of course, it was iced coffee, he wouldn’t risk anyone getting burned.

“Oh, please, it was me! I really should have been watching where I was going!” she retorted

“How about I offer you coffee as a form of compensation?” he grinned

“You just gave me one!” Sienna laughed and Dick couldn’t help but be positively surprised by her sense of humour. “I wouldn’t mind a little snack, thought….. Had a hell of a day and forget to have lunch….”

“Well I can’t really let a pretty girl like you starve.” Dick ginned.

“Oh, so now I am pretty girl?” she raised an eyebrow “you sure you bumped into me because you’re clumsy?”

“Who said clumsy and lucky cannot go in pair?”

Maybe this mission would be nicer than he thought……

***

6 months ago

He found Sienna amusing and charming. But it was still just for vigilante purposes and his eyes were on Y/N. They were. Truly. And to prove it to himself, one day out of the blue he decided to show up at her work, unannounced with the biggest flower bouquet ever. Causing a little bit of commotion and making a show amongst Y/N’s co-workers.

“Hey Y/N….” he smiled, his silhouette barely visible from the grand bunch of forget-me-nots.

“Dick?” her eyes grew wide at the sight in front of him. “It’s not my birthday…..”

“Can’t I just give a little gift to my favourite girl? For no reason? ”

“You’re just unbelievable” she chuckled shaking her head. “and I bet the blue flowers were chosen for no reason…..”

“Sh! You’re gonna blew my cover Y/N!”

“Mhm. Because of the colour of the plants….. As if that were the craziest thing that may uncover your secret identity.”

“And who’s unbelievable now?’ she narrowed his eyes, leaning forward and trying to kiss her.

“Nah uh….” She chuckles pulling back. “not at work….”

“Y/N!” he whined

“not at work.” She insisted

“Come over tonight then….” Dick begged. “Please… I need you

“Tonight you say?”

“please, baby……”

“Wayne gala.” She simply said

“I’m sorry, what?” those two words threw him back into reality “what are you talking about?”

“You little pea brain…..” she cooed, brushing hair out of his forehead and ruffling his mop. “It’s the night of Annual Wayne Gala. Don’t tell me you forgot?” his silence was enough of an answer. “I was seconded for the press coverage. Work night for me.”

“Doesn’t mean we cannot have some fun together later on…..” Dick grabbed her hand, intertwined their fingers and caressing her skin. The gesture was innocent but his eyes were shining with a predatory gaze leaving no room for doubts of what he really meant.

“Are you absolutely sure we can hide from Bruce’s watchful gaze?”

“It’s a big Manor….” Dick smiled suggestively, leaning closer to her “come on, baby. You keep me waiting for so long now…..”

“The famous Dick Grayson, the heartbreaker and forever the bachelor is begging for a girl?”

“Not just any girl…” he smirked “you.” Without any warning he closed the gap between them, kissing her softly with all the feelings he had for her. He loved her. Her loved her…. He loved her, right? “Y/N…” he tangled hand in her hair and brought her closer, not caring who might see them at her work. And apparently, at this point, neither did she. “Come on….” He brushed his lips over her cheek and jaw, eyes closed, breathing her in “Please…..”

“I….” she gasped, overwhelmed by everything he was doing at the moment “I guess I can try to implement some work-life balance…”

“Good girl…..” he whispered, kissing her lips again and she shivered at those words. He was right. She was keeping him waiting for long.

“I’ll see you tonight then, Grayson.” Gathering what was left of her self-control she pushed him away from her, standing up abruptly and fixing her hair “I gotta get back to work now.”

“I’ll see you tonight then.” He grinned, grabbing her tightly by the waist, pulling her close and kissing once more with untamed passion, before moving away, grinning like a school boy and exiting the office, leaving the poor girl flustered and distracted.

***

“Dick!”

Dick was all ready for the Wayne Gala and for the little after party with Y/N, creating some wild scenarios in his head. But once he entered the main room, already filled with the big fish, his eyes searching for his girl in the sea of heads Sienna came right through to him.

“Sienna?” He smiled, but it felt ground slip beneath his feet “what are you doing here?”

“Bruce invited me.” She handed him a glass of champagne and he tossed it off in a second. “Cause apparently the scatterbrain of my boyfriend forgot about the event of the year…..”

“Hm?” Dick muttered, his mind elsewhere “What? I mean, yes, of course, you know me..” he chuckled nervously “I never were a fan of this whole gala thing. Haha. None of my brothers ever were….”

“And yet, here we both are….I only wish the press weren’t so insistent.” Sienna took a sip of her own drink. “There’s this one reporter, Y/N. She tried to talk to me and get my opinion on some social case……”

“You… you talked to Y/N?!” Dick almost choked at the mini sandwich he grabbed from the tray.

“Yes! She’s a girl boss. You should meet her, Dick. Bet she would take you down with her no man’s bullshit attitude.” Sienna laughed “God, we could make such a good friends…. Oh, look! She’s right there! Talking to your brother.”

“Which brother?!” Dick’s started sweating. Please don’t let it be….

“Jason, I suppose. Seems like they are having fun together.”

“Oh, shit!” Dick hissed. Jason knew everything about this whole mission thing. And he had a really loose tongue.

“Dick? Are you all right, love?” now, Sienna seemed truly concerned, trying to meet Dick’s gaze.

“I’m perfect, dear. Would you like to dance with me?”

“I thought you hated this gala thing? And everything that came with it?”

“Well, I got a pretty girl by my side and …..” only now he get the chance to eye Sienna from head to toe. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. So glad you noticed.” She snickered

“So, will you do me the honour?” Dick reached his hand and once Sienna took it, lead her to the dancefloor, joining some other couples.

While he might have had Sienna in his arms, the only person on his mind was definitely Y/N. His gaze never left her figure during the dance and the only thing that saved him from any possible questions was that it was a slow dance and Sienna clung to him tightly, her head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, enjoying them moving together.

But –

This was also the source of the trouble in the form of Y/N noticing another girl being so close to Dick. Too close. And once Dick spotted her shocked gaze, her hurt face expression, the disbelief radiating from her whole body he knew he was doomed. And Jason, who was standing next to Y/N, barely holding a laugh was not helpful at all, making Dick count the seconds till the end of the song, and desperately and silently call his younger brother for help.

Obviously, Jason was not without heart and he would have to be completely blind to not notice the suffering of Dick’s and him making a fool out of himself. So after a while of not-so-discreet laughing his ass off he actually decided to give Dick a hand. He knew that anyone connected to Batman and actually listening to him would be suffering. No matter how strained the relationship between Dick and Jason was, the latter liked Y/N. And to tell the truth, Jason wanted to save her heartbreak. If that meant letting Dick talk to his girl and keeping Sienna occupied for a while, he could deal with it. For Y/N;s sake, obviously.

“Excuse-me dance?” Jason teased approaching Dick and Sienna.

“Hey…. Honey… would you mind Jace keeping you entertained for a moment, while I go talk to that journalist you mentioned? Oldest son, gotta keep the appearances that I actually know what I’m doing here…..” Dick stuttered

“Which he obviously doesn’t” Jason hissed

Sienna looked between two brothers, a bit confused of what was happening, but finally nodding her head.

“Sure, love. You go talk to the press. Hopefully your younger brother won’t trample me….” She chuckled and kissed Dick on the lips lightly before letting go of his hand and allowing him to run of the dancefloor.

Shit….

“Y/N!” he hissed. Apparently, before talking to the press, he will have to chase it first. “Y/N, wait!” he grabbed her wrist, before she could leave the Manor, spinning her around so that she was forced to face him.

“What the hell, Dick?! Let go off me!” she struggled against his grip

“Please, let’s just talk about it….” He begged “I can explain.”

“Explain why you had another girl holding you and kissing you?! What are you playing!?”

“Come on, let’s not make a scene, Y/N!”

“No. Let’s!” she had every right to be angry but Dick could not let her unleash her inner destroyer in front of all the guest. So before she could do or say anything else, he grabbed her waist and pushed her into the first empty room, pressing her into the wall inside and capturing her lips in his.

“Y/N….” he whined, feeling her kiss him back, turning all hot, his hands roaming her entire body in the frantic need of her. Right there, right now. He wanted her. And he was going to have her. After all that was the plan all along and if it were to happen a little faster than expected.. so be it. “Y/N….” his moan died halfway when his hand slide down her leg, sneaking under the hem of her dress and moving up again, lifting the material, trying to touch her where he knew she needed. “I love you…..”

Those three little words seemed to bring her back to reality.

“You love me, huh?” she wriggled out of his grip making him groan at the loss. “How dare you say that?!”

“Ok, fine… I owe you some explanation….”

“You owe me so much more than just some explanation.” She crossed arms over her chest ”are you with her? Is she your girlfriend?”

“NO!”

“Then what is this about?!”

“Batman.” He muttered

“I’m sorry, what?” she raised an eyebrow at him

“It’s Batman and Nightwing thing. Bruce is… after a criminal apparently and sienna… she’s the way to get to him….”

“So you’re just using her!? That’s even worse!”

“I’m not using her! I never promised her anything!”

“You let her kiss you!”

“It doesn’t mean a thing!”

“Do you even know women, Grayson!?”

“I want to be with you…! Please, you have to believe me, Y/N, I swear!” he grabbed both her hands. “Look at me.” She averted her gaze “Please, look at me….” She was still disobeying so in desperation he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on him “I know you hate me now and you have every right to do so. I should have told you about this and I’m sorry.”

“Are you now?”

“Yes. Please. I only want you. You hear me?” he leaned forward slightly, their foreheads touching “You, baby. I wish it wasn’t so hard, but sometimes… sometimes I have to act like Nightwing and not like Dick Grayson. But it doesn’t mean I love you any less.” She sighs deeply at the confession processing everything he just dropped on her. “Please baby, say something, anything.”

“She’s actually a very nice and smart girl, you know?”

“But I want you….”

“Shut up, Grayson. You say it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea how hard it is for me to go against another girl’s back?”

“I’m sorry….” He squeaked, holding her hand tighter.

“I’m not gonna leave….” Y/N starts.

“You won’t?!” his eyes lighten up a bit at the words.

“No. However…. If we are to pursue our relationship further… do… all those things you want to do…..” at this point Dick felt himself getting hard at the mere thought of having Y/N. “if you want me, you’ll have to finish that stupid mission first. I won’t sleep with you while you still with her.”

“But it’s all fake!”

“Even if it’s fake.” Y/N emphasised.

“But….!”

“No buts. I’m here, but like I said, no betraying another girl like that. Not while she might be in love with you, you hear me? I can wait, can you?”

“Yes….” He hung his head low. “Yes, I can wait for you, but you’re making it really hard for me Y/N.”

Now

“ What the fuck is going on here?!” Sienna’s voice echoed through the apartment.

Shit… Shit… shit….

They were in so much of a deep shit…..

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson smut #nightwing smut #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x oc #nightwing x you #dc dick grayson #dc smut #smut #dick grayson angst #nightwing angst

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starryinkart · 2 months

Note

Human AU N question if you don't mind :)

You mentioned Ns head still getting hopped off, resulting in a neck scar. Would the head regrow like with their robot versions or would he have manually re-attached it (like sewing it back on or something)? Considering they're kinda undead at that point so I assume losing their heads wouldn't exactly kill them

Ah yes!! The head would regrow! When the DDs “died” normally a human body would start to dry out and wither, eventually turning to dust if long enough passes. In this scenario, not all of them were 100% dead, for example N. The same thing that happened in the show of him defending CYN and he was in fact, chained up outside, the only difference is, Uzi wasn’t there to save him like in Episode 5, so without V being sentient and the others not wanting to be disposed of, he essentially almost starved. He was so weak that he essentially couldn’t move, but could weakly see what was happening the whole time (something he remembers later on that really messed him up to the point of an anxiety attack when it randomly pops in his head.

Basically the solver as CYN killed everyone at the Gala, dealt with Tessa and built its soldiers. It pumped nanites into the DDs bloodstreams, filtering out the normal human blood, which burned like literal acid radiation flowing through their bloodstream, and was to say the least, VERY painful.

Their inner organs are all perfectly preserved by casings of inner armor along with the nanites and they can regenerate just like shown in the show! The only downside is just like a humans body runs a fever when combating a virus, the DDs body in this AU is constantly warm and running a fever, making them need to drink blood (oil) to stay cool and not overheat too much!

I actually drew this for the concept of the human Disassembly Soldiers (since they aren’t exactly drone lol), it’s a bit outdated when it comes to N’s human looks, but the only thing that really changed was his hair and skin color!

This AU (any Murder Drones human AU on my acc btw) is called “Murder Drones Skin and Bones”!

[CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY OF COURSE]

If you guys have anymore questions about any of my MD AUs like my MD Absolutely AU/Story, King Solver N AU and now this one, Murder Drones Skin and Bones, free to send them in my ask box!! They are always appreciated! 🥰✨

#murder drones #murder drones au #md au #murder drones n #artists on tumblr #digital art #fan art #md human au #md skin and bones au #yes I’m calling this AU #Md Skin and Bones #OR #MDSaB AU #serial designation n #md n #starryresponds!#starryinkartwork #starryrants!#starrywrites!

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boneblushed · 8 months

Text

Untouchable

masterlist | part 4 | part 5

synopsis So maybe Rafe Cameron isn’t as bad as you thought he was.

wc 4.3k

As the football team files into the locker room after practice, Rafe Cameron jogs ahead, the space filling with sweat and grit. The vague scent of testosterone permeates.

“Dude,” Dalton carps, shoved aside as Rafe pushes past him. “You good?”

“I’m late,” Rafe pants, fishing his towel out of his gym bag before throwing it into his locker. “She told me she’d murder me if I was late to another meeting.”

He’s in too much of a rush to notice the reception this receives, a flurry of knowing looks punctuated by a keen sense of hubris. Kelce and Dalton may be the only two willing to bet on his odds with you, but it’s clear that the rest of the team—the prefects, the graduating class—have picked up on the lingering eye contact and ricocheting glances, the drawn out meetings and nescient closeness.

Not that it matters. September now, with the crisp Autumn chill beginning to unfurl, you maintain the same, safe distance from Rafe Cameron as jilted you had once delineated. Sure, you’re friendlier now, a little softer around the edges, but it’s clear that you’re fighting hard to keep things professional, hold him an arm’s length away and not closer.

He wishes it wouldn’t bother him as much as it does. There’s been a few instances where he’s attempted more than a ride in his pick-up; an invite to whatever lame party his team’s throwing that weekend, an offer to stop by the Burger Shack on the way home. As friends—colleagues. To minimal avail, of course, you’re always giving him the same answer when he asks: “Nice try, Cameron.” Not a yes, not a no, just this odd, taunting response that’s sweetened by your peach scented lipgloss.

His most recent attempt had been just the other week, when a meeting about winter formal had run longer than you’d initially planned. It’d been brought to his attention by a pang of hunger in his abdomen, and he’d pulled up Uber Eats without any sort of ulterior motive.

“What’s your McDonalds order?” He’d asked, looking up at you briefly.

The sun was hanging low on the horizon that evening; he remembers this because of the way it bedaubed the bottom half of your face, accentuated the smooth column of your throat.

Your frown looked prettier in yellow light — that’s another thing he remembers. You’d raised your eyebrows a little, not bothering to look up at him. Another pang. “Why?”

“You’re not hungry, Y/L/N?” He’d asked, raising his in tandem.

“Starving.” You’d glanced up then, frowning harder, prettier. “Maybe you should concentrate on getting this done so we can both go home for dinner.”

“Okay, not McDonalds,” Rafe had acceded, flicking back to the UberEats home screen and leaning in. “Chinese? Thai food? Something fancier? Vending machine crap?”

“Cameron.”

“Y/L/N,” he’d mocked, knocking his shoulder against yours cajolingly. “C’mon, we both need a bit of food. We’ve been at this for fucking hours.”

“So if I say yes,” you’d asked then, angling away and sending him a pointed look, “you’ll let me pay for my own meal?”

Rafe hadn’t missed a beat, scoffing, “Of course not.”

You’d sighed, “Exactly.” And then, “Nice try, Cameron.”

Like clockwork. He’s thinking about it now, mostly about the way his name moulds your gloss-shiny lips, when Kelce’s voice breaks his reverie.

“Pussy whipped,” he coughs, earning a few stifled laughs from the rest of the football team.

Rafe’s about to rise to the bait when his conscience forces a falter, reminding him of the last time you were brought up in this locker-room. He’s constantly, incessantly taunted by the stupid, sophomore version of him; more so now that he knows his fondness of you was misinterpreted back then. So he’s adamant that there won’t be any more crude shows of affection—when he tells you he’s grown, he’s wants to be able to mean it.

So, instead of responding, Rafe flips Kelce off over his shoulder, grabbing his lathering gel and disappearing into the shower area.

“Oh shit,” Kelce wolf-whistles, more a jibe than a taunt. “You really are pussy whipped, huh?”

“Do me a favour, Smith.” Rafe sounds calmer than Kelce had expected him to, his rough voice scary steady. “And keep her name out of your mouth.”

—

You’re scrunching your nose when he nears, head lowered and notes in disarray.

It’s that stupid, heady cologne he wears—musk and patchouli something, you think—that you’re developing a knack for recognising almost anywhere. And chlorine, always chlorine and other pool chemicals, except for Fridays which are devoted to football practice petrichor.

“I would ask if you own a watch,” you say, refusing to look up, “but I know you do, because the Rolex logo blinds me every fucking time it’s in the sun.”

Rafe takes a seat beside you, snaking his arm around your backrest and swivelling it around to him in one swift motion.

You gasp in surprise, though it melts into a scoff as the indignation sets in. “Cameron,” you angle back, eyes widening slightly. “I was in the middle of something.”

“So here’s the thing,” he begins, ignoring you. His thighs are pressed into either side of his seat, the groove of his knees nudging your thighs ever so slightly. “I was… alright, a minute late, yeah? And I thought — well, she isn’t going to care if it’s a minute or ten, she’s going to murder no matter how late I am.”

You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms over his chest. “True.”

“So,” he leans down, fishing a cylinder of Pringles and a packet of Skittles out of his bag, “I thought I’d take some time to pick out my ideal last meal.”

You glance down at the assortment dubiously, narrowing your eyes. “Vending machine crap?”

“Vending machine crap,” Rafe affirms, throwing them onto the table beside him. The plastic crinkles ominously.

“Bold of you to assume that I’d allow a last meal, Cameron,” you say then, faux-serious.

He leans forward in his seat, his blue eyes glinting with mirth. “Christ, Y/L/N, you’re going to deny me fundamental human rights now?”

“Wouldn’t you rather a quick, painless death than us delaying the inevitable with some food?” You respond, leaning forward in tandem.

“A quick, painless death, huh?” He asks, his voice lower now, roughened by the closeness. “How’re you going to do it then, head girl?”

The amusement on your features gives way to diffidence. It feels as though there’s a hidden meaning to the words he’s saying, something more crackling alive in the inch of space between your faces. “Poison,” you say, softer too.

A pause. Rafe’s gaze falls to your lips, and his chest stills, his broad shoulders tensing. “Don’t know if you’ll need it,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing arduously. “Not right now.”

You furrow your brow, momentarily bemused. “Hm?”

Rafe Cameron thinks about kissing you often. He thinks about it in this absentminded, matter-of-fact way, like it’s meant to be on his mind all the time, like the pull in his chest is an inevitable part of being your almost friend—colleague.

He thinks about it extra hard now, slanted by your proximity and the soft, bergamot notes of your perfume.

Contrary to your vow, it’s eliciting a slow, painful death not to lean in and press his mouth against yours. He swallows again, his gaze lingering on your lips, and the tension in the room sears through you like a meteorite.

You pull back hastily, clearing your throat and turning back toward the table. “Anyway,” you cough, pulling your laptop forward and touching the mousepad. “We should really get going on this agenda.”

Rafe takes a little longer to regain his composure, his warm breath folding over your shoulder as he sighs. He turns too, leaning forward to look at the screen, and suddenly his proximity feels like too much to bare.

You move your chair to the side a little, the legs scraping over polished wood tauntingly. Rafe’s chest pulls in protest. “Right,” he says after a beat, trying not to frown. “Winter formal.”

The pair of you work in silence for a while. Time ticks by slowly, the maddening inches between you shrinking, and it’s only at the sight of a purple horizon that you acquiesce and stop working.

When you close your laptop and turn to address Rafe, you find that he’s already looking at you.

The revelation makes your pulse jolt. You break eye contact and clear your throat, busying yourself with your tote bag.

“Your focus is unparalleled by the way,” he says after a beat, his voice somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Remind me never to leave you alone when you’re studying.”

You try not to look too pleased by this revelation. “I always study alone, Cameron.”

“For your safety, Y/L/N,” he replies, faux-sombre, “I really think you shouldn’t.”

You look over at him, raising your eyebrows. “Is this your weird way of asking me on a study date?”

“Oh no,” he responds matter-of-factly, pushing back onto the hind legs of his chair. “One, I don’t study.” He leans forward then, ducks his head to eye-level, the blue of his irises bright and ever present. “Two, studying together is not a date.”

In your head, this translates to: you’re overestimating his interest. You say, suddenly chagrined, “I was kidding. Obviously.”

“So was I,” Rafe returns, cracking a roguish grin. “Obviously.”

You scoff, throwing your tote bag over your shoulder and standing up. “Nice try, Cameron.”

“It’s true, though,” he replies, oddly sincere as he straightens. “Any other girl and I’d never fucking dream of bringing them to a library to hang out.”

“Make out,” you correct with a cough, earning another grin.

“Exactly,” he nods, raising his eyebrows significantly. “I mean, shit, I’ve got a reputation to uphold Y/L/N.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. “What? As the Academy’s biggest fuckboy?”

“Fuckboy?” Rafe echoes, faux-affronted. “It’s not my fault I’m such a goddamn delight, now, is it?”

“Except,” you reply, trying not to smile, “that delight is probably the last word I’d use to describe you.”

Your shoulders knock together as you walk forward. It becomes harder not to smile, his closeness like warm syrup.

“And the first?” He asks.

“Well,” you splay your palm out and begin listing adjectives off, “cocky, arrogant, absolutely insufferable, sweet when you want to be which is actually rarely ever —”

“Sweet?” Rafe interrupts, something fond swelling in his chest. “I’ll take sweet.”

“You’re forgetting the rarely ever part,” you remind him, raising your eyebrows.

“Still,” he insists, grinning stubbornly, “ever.”

You shake your head exasperatedly, almost amused, and push through a set of double doors that take you to the foyer. The carpark isn’t far away, and the promise of a ride home—time and closeness like something rare—lingers in the air.

It’s as you’re grappling with its presence that you frown, suddenly aware of the silence. The pair of you have stopped walking and you aren’t certain why that is. “This conversation was going somewhere, wasn’t it?”

Rafe furrows his brow thoughtfully, though his features are quick to acquiesce. “Right. The fact that I don’t consider studying a date.”

You cringe again. “Oh.”

“But,” he continues, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

A tell-tale warmth spreads over your cheeks. “Nice try, Cameron,” you mutter, though your voice sounds weaker than you want it to.

“Don’t worry, Y/L/N,” he murmurs back, bowing his head to eye level. “When I’m asking you out for real, I’ll make sure that you know it.”

—

Lightning: his musk and patchouli scent—and chlorine today, no petrichor to fill the air.

Thunder: his voice. Deeper when he’s calling out for you than when you’re alone with him.

One always comes before the other, like this cyclical reminder of how much of him is now familiar.

“Y/L/N!” He calls out urgently, prompting you to halt.

“Cameron?” You turn to face him as he nears, evidently bewildered. “No meeting today, remember? Cromwell’s away.”

“No, I know,” he answers, a little breathless. “How’re you getting home?”

You furrow your brow bemusedly. “Walking?”

“I always drive you home after meetings,” he says then, quick to fall into your step. “Let me drive you home.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” You ask, sounding a little exasperated. “We don’t have one of those today, genius.”

Rafe grins handsomely, knocking his shoulder against yours. “I’m a creature of habit, Y/L/N. Can’t you use your head girl goodwill and humour me just this once?”

You shake your head bemusedly, deciding to accede. “I don’t get why this is such a big deal for you.”

Rafe shrugs matter-of-factly, beads of water falling from his damp hair to his broad shoulders. It pulls your gaze from his muscles to the bare expanse of his forearms, his shirt sleeves rolled up so his Rolex glints in the yellow sun. “It’d be weird,” he says finally, “driving home in silence on a Wednesday instead of listening to your god-awful playlist.”

“Hey!” You chide, pushing him sideways playfully. “My playlist is fucking fire.”

Rafe makes a face. “Listening to that much Taylor Swift can’t be healthy.”

“Don’t do that,” you return, fixing him with a knowing look. “I hear you humming along to Delicate whenever it plays.”

“Good tune,” he defends, accurate lyrics, “that’s it.”

“Aw,” you tease, smiling this sweet, amused smile up at him—sunshine incarnate. “Don’t worry Mr Fuckboy, I won’t tell anyone that you’re actually a secret swiftie.”

Normally he’d return the jibe, but that fond look on your face is making it hard for him to breath. He wishes he had a camera, pathetic as that is. He wishes he had you, was afforded the luxury of endless time with your pretty face.

“Kildare Academy’s head girl everybody,” he says after a beat, unlocking his car with a tandem grin. “The paragon of confidentiality.”

Delicate plays once on the ride to your house. And when it does, his proclivity for the song now made public, Rafe Cameron isn’t afraid sing along loudly.

He’s proudly unabashed when the chorus blares through, singing, “Is it cool that I said all that?”

“Is it chill that that you’re in my head?” You join in between laughter, angling toward him to face him fully.

His long fingers drum against the steering wheel with the beat, making the muscles of his forearm pulse. He leans forward to turn the music up louder, and when he hand drops again, it falls onto the vibrating gear shift.

Dangerously close to your exposed thigh, a slate of sunlight painting it a warm shade of orange. “Cause I know that it’s delicate.” Rafe becomes acutely aware of the lyrics to this song, all of a sudden. “Isn’t it…”

“Isn’t it, isn’t it, isn’t it,” you continue to sing, that sweet, amused smile making a return on your face. Almost pleased. The awareness grows maddening.

You continue to hum along whilst Rafe tries to catch his breath. He’s almost grateful for the fact that he’s nearing your house until he realises that this means no more pretty girl in his pick-up truck.

“Think you can keep yourself from studying too hard this weekend?” Rafe asks, pulling into your driveway carefully.

You turn to face him, raising your eyebrows playfully. “Think you can force yourself to do a bit of study this weekend?”

Rafe throws his arm around your headrest and leans in a little, this fond, roguish grin on his face that makes your chest hurt. “Why? You asking me on a study date, Y/L/N?”

“No,” you answer, fixing him with a pointed look. “I just think your brain deserves a little bit of a workout.”

Rafe presses his tongue against his cheek, his gaze falling over your figure slow. “Trust me when I say,” he replies, his voice lower now, rougher. “That the real estate you occupy in there is a workout in itself.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, that pain in your chest dissolving into something softer. “All the nagging,” you deflect, “huh?”

Your front door opens, and Rafe catches the movement in his peripheral vision. His eyes linger on you anyway.

“Not quite,” he murmurs finally, just as you turn and unbuckle your seatbelt.

You look up at your porch and find your mother squinting down at you. She has a dish-towel clad hand pressed against her full hip, and her warm gaze scans over the pair of you knowingly.

When her expression changes, the delighted smile on her face creating crow’s feet, you recognise what’s coming before she’s even opened her mouth.

A few weeks ago, before his presence infused all this sweetness into your bones, you probably would’ve turned to him at this stage and pleaded he refuse.

Now, however…

“Rafe!” You mother calls out, gesturing for you to roll down the window. “Have you had dinner yet, sweetheart?”

“Not yet, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he answers, leaning forward to send her that handsome smile of his.

It’s a compromising position, his cheek close enough to press against yours, and you’re awash with the heat of his torso as it occupies the personal space in front of you. You swallow.

"Well then," she responds, "you'll have to stay and have it with us."

The arm he's wrapped around your headrest relaxes, his fingers brushing over your shoulder intermittently. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense,” your mother dismisses, waving the dish-towel around. “If you help me make the last few bits, you’ll be doing the opposite of imposing.”

Rafe hesitates momentarily, his eyes flicking to your face for approval. It’s only then that he’s able to recognise the closeness; his pupils flex a little, just enough to make you swallow once more.

You’re okay with this? He seems to ask.

You shrug. It appears all the confirmation he needs to shift the gear into park and release the ignition, his close proximity wavering.

And he walks the short walk to your porch behind you, his pleased expression hidden, unaware of the look of exasperation you’re sending to your mother.

She raises her eyebrows reproachfully. It’s only polite, they seem to say, as if we’re doing him a favour. As if Rafe Cameron doesn’t live in the most expensive house on the island, no doubt equipped with a private chef—a miscellany of fancy dinner items.

Maybe you’re embarrassed by the mediocrity of your own home, on the cusp of the Eight with enough roots to belong to the Cut. And you know it’s silly, thinking this way; terrifying too, because since when did you care what Rafe Cameron thought of you?

The fact that you’re grappling with these emotions must show on your face, because Rafe pulls close once the three of you are in the kitchen, ducking his head to your ear.

Goosebumps bloom where his warm breath fans over your skin. “Are you sure you’re good with this?”

You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but you sort of hate that he knows this is affecting you at all. You breath out a scoff, breaking away from him deftly. “It’s not a big deal,” you lie, sending him a stern look. “Drop it, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies, raising his arms in surrender. Then, he shifts his attention to your mother, who’s grabbing a bunch of fresh vegetables from the fridge.

“Think you can handle chopping duty, Rafe?” She asks, handing them over to him with a smile.

“Yes ma’am,” he repeats, and then he raises his eyebrows at you, his blue eyes filled with mirth. “So this is where you get it from, huh?”

“Ma’am,” you mother echoes, nodding approvingly. “I like it.”

After she’s enlisted your help in making the salad dressing, she can’t help but hover over the pair of you, throwing jibes as she pleases.

“So Rafe,” she says, ignoring your stern look, “Y/N tells me you’re captain of the football team, on top of being head boy. Your parents must be pretty proud of you, huh?”

Rafe’s features falter. There’s a split second where the hand that’s chopping away at the lettuce freezes in place; it’s a subtle pause, but you’re in tune enough to recognise it despite your mother’s ignorance.

“Maybe,” he answers finally, quick to plaster a smile back onto his face. “Though they do tend to have pretty high expectations.”

“And I’m sure you’re meeting all of them,” your mother dismissed airily, her bright eyes warm. “Do you know where you want to end up next year?”

“UNC,” he replies automatically. “Wanna stay reasonably close to my family, you know?”

You frown at this, sending him a questioning glance. From the little Rafe has disclosed about his father, it’s clear that he’s a bit of a tyrant—why would he wants to stick around here for him?

He turns his head in tandem, somehow reading your thoughts. “Wheezie,” he adds, looking back to your mother. “I know my dad’ll take care of Sarah just fine, but me and Wheez tend to get a little bit forgotten.”

“And Wheezie and Sarah are your younger sisters?” Your mother asks.

“Uh-huh,” he affirms, returning his gaze to the chopping board. “But anyway, I’ll probably apply to some of the other colleges on the East Coast, too, just in case I don’t manage to snag one of UNC’s football scholarships.”

“I’m sure your grades’ll get you through,” you say then, unable to help yourself. There’s a pause as two pairs of eyes descend on you, Rafe’s a little surprised, your mother’s on the smug side.

“Careful, Y/L/N,” Rafe teases, nudging your shoulder with his. “That was almost a compliment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully. “The dumb frat boy act may work your friends, but I know you pull more A-grades than all of them combined.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, a jibe. “More keeping tabs, huh?”

You shrug, mock-nonchalant, tapping the side of your nose conspiratorially. It transforms Rafe’s expression into something roguish, full of mischief, and he ducks his head slightly, feigning a challenge. “You’re right though,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m coming for your title, Miss Future Valedictorian.”

“So that’s why you didn’t want me studying this weekend!” You exclaim, faux-affronted.

“It’s also why we can’t go on study dates together,” he affirms, nodding soberly.

You furrow your brow. “You’ve lost me, Cameron.”

He raises his eyebrows significantly. “Too distracting, Y/L/N, keep up.”

It throws you, the ease with which he admits to this, your mother his witness. You try to dismiss it with a scoff, though the sound that comes out of your mouth is far weaker. “Anyway,” you glance down at the concoction in front of you, cheeks too-warm, “dressing’s ready.”

—

Rafe stays far longer than you expect him to.

He tackles your mother’s interrogatory remarks like a champion, deflecting as necessary. And he’s polite about it all, effortlessly charming, asking just the right number of personal questions—making your heart swell with his thoughtfulness.

And it’s terrifying, really, when dusk falls and he’s still here. Burnt ochre transforms into deep, purple hues, and it’s only then that your mother acquiesces and lets him go.

“Thank you again for dinner Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says, halted at your door with a handsome grin on his face.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Rafe!” She answers delightedly, sending him a playful wink. “Especially when you joke about the fact that I look thirty.”

“Sisters!” He insists, looking between the pair of you solemnly. “Seriously, Mrs. Y/L/N. Love your work.”

Her smile extends from her lips to the sides of her crinkly eyes, crow’s feet shining through. “Give your family my best.”

He nods kindly, and she turns, disappearing around the corner and leaving you to close the door.

Just you and him on your porch, now. The stygian sky descends on the scene like velvet, and the silence reclines, allowing your gaze to fall over him in paces.

His too, agonising over everything from the curl of your lashes to the osculate between your lips. The smooth column of your throat, illuminated by the dim glow of your porch lamp.

“Thank you,” he murmurs finally, breaking the silence. (He knows, if he hadn’t, the urge to kiss you would’ve grown unbearable.) “For tonight. I haven’t sat down for a meal like that in a while.”

You’re quietly surprised by the revelation, and in the beat that follows, his figure blurs around the edges. He’s proximal, though not proximal enough. And his once-damp hair is now fluffy with static, his taut muscles ever-present, his torso like a body heat furnace.

One step forward, and he’d be able to press you against your front door and kiss you. You swallow thickly.

“Don’t thank me,” you say quietly, willing yourself to look up at him. “It was fun.”

Another pause. He’s staring down at you with this intensity that makes your cheeks burn, and you find yourself grappling for purchase on something—anything, overwhelmed by his closeness.

“If only you were always like this,” you add, trying to tease though sounding a little weaker than you want to.

Rafe’s forearms are bare, rougher in the chill. He crosses them over his chest, leaning into the column of your porch, closer. “Like what?”

His warm breath unspools. He’s softer like this, at your doorway after dinner, his thick brows raised and skin awash in yellow light.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, looking away without meaning to. “Sweet.”

“Sweet?” He echoes, his voice lower, rougher. “I’m always sweet, Y/L/N.”

“That’s not true,” you whisper. You’re aware that he’s inched infinitesimally closer.

“To you,” he rasps, “I am.”

He pushes off the column of your porch then, ducking his head until it’s at eye-level with yours. When his rough palm finds the contour of your jaw, you let out a shaky breath, your heart a mess.

“Rafe,” you warn.

“Y/N…” he echoes, his finger sweeping over your warm cheek.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you

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littlefangbanger · 1 year

Text

True Blood Vampires w/ a Human Mate

Pairing(s): Eric; Pam; Godric; x GN!Reader

CW: Vague mentions of sex, violence, etc... Come on, it's True Blood. Mentions of Luke (suicide bomber). Some fluff. Lots of rambling.

Notes: Only on season 4 right now, so I'm sure I'm missing some good characters. Didn't do Bill but if anybody wants a second version of this just ask. I'm open to requests so feel free to send me asks!

Eric Northman

This man only uses humans for three things: feeding, fucking and as a means to an end. If they didn't offer anything useful, they didn't interest him. That was, until you.

Ngl it took this man a long time to recognize his own feelings. It took Pam calling him out to realize he was starting to feel something almost human. Love?

You heard him say it, don't use words he doesn't understand.

Anyways, at first he thought he was just attracted to you due to your blood. He hadn't actually tasted it yet but it was tempting nonetheless.

You were with them at Godric's nest when the suicide bomber attacked. You were further away from Luke than Sookie and Eric, but you were still human.

Eric was the one who pulled the debris out of you and fed you his blood. That was the moment he started to come to terms with his own feelings. He wasn't going to lose you.

This man will protect you from EVERYTHING, vampire or not. If it's a vampire of all things threatening your safety, in his area, well... bless their cold non-beating hearts.

Remember that episode where Lafayette is in the basement, and Eric lets out that inhuman growl while tearing that other man apart? Yeah, he does that.

He's not affectionate at first, especially not in public. If he does hold you it is because you managed to piss him off by talking to other vampires at Fangtasia. So he keeps you where he knows nobody will come after you: in his lap.

Man is probably touch starved. Please offer him a hug when you're alone. It'll be strange for him at first but he secretly loves it.

I think his primary love languages are mostly acts of service and quality time. He wants you to worship the ground he walks on, much like he does you.

Passionate kisses. Rough sex. It's rare for anything to be slow or gentle with him.

He is down for anything really. Just say the word.

Listen, he's not a gentleman. Not unless you explicitly ask for it. He's gonna be rough with almost everything. But he tries for you.

You can try to take control if you want... but just know you're not actually in control. He's just offering you an opportunity to feel like you are.

The moment you get a little too cocky, he'll remind you that he is the thousand year old vampire. He overpowers you easily.

He wants you to become a vampire, but doesn't say anything at first. He actually starts to value your humanity. It keeps him grounded.

That doesn't change the fact that you can't stay human forever. In your current state you are simply too fragile. It was too easy for you to be ripped away from him.

He won't turn you yet, though. He'll wait until you're ready, or until he has no choice.

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort

Eric is the only being that has managed to capture and keep Pam's attention. So your relationship was a slow burn made in hell.

At first she only saw you as another pathetic human that stuck their nose in vampire business too much. You were one of Sookie's dearest friends, and one that seemed to always be involved in her foolish antics.

Much like Sookie, you sympathize with vampires. You actually started to visit Fangtasia as a casual guest.

That's how you managed to capture Pam's attention. Your regular visits always seemed to spark something that resembled joy in her.

Your personality meshed well with hers. Pam is a smart-ass and even more cunning. Your dark humor and equally witty personality amused her.

Eventually you two developed a sort of... arrangement. You offered her your blood, and sex of course, and she offered you protection from the degenerates at Fangtasia.

She did find your blood quite tasty, so she agreed to this.

She claimed you. So nobody else could touch you. Eric didn't care as long as you didn't distract her from her duties.

After some months of seeing each other, Pam started to realize that she was becoming way too attached to you.

It was almost as if she was... in love? No, absolutely not.

She was harsh with you for some time, but eventually started to warm up.

Her primary love languages are acts of service and gift giving. Shower her with quality makeup, jewelry and other gifts. She loves being spoiled.

She'll do the same for you, so expect some rather pricey gifts.

When it comes to sex she prefers being dominant, but if you ask nicely she may let you take that role instead.

Will praise and degrade you at the same time. Just be a good pet for her, yeah?

I feel like she would want to turn you into a vampire asap. She doesn't like knowing that you could die from almost anything.

You don't mind, though. You quite like the idea of being a vampire.

Godric

Godric is one of the few vampires who holds some level of compassion towards humans. So, I feel like it wouldn't take as much for him to fall in love with one.

This compassion is, however, a result of being two thousand years old. He's had a lot of time to get around, but somehow I'm convinced he's never been in love like that.

Sure, he knows something like love for his progenies. But romantic? I just don't think that's something he thought about until recently. It would probably take him some time to recognize what he's feeling.

You met the night Sookie was held hostage by the Fellowship of the Sun. You had arrived with Eric to save him and Sookie.

Godric was intrigued by your compassion for vampires. You? A human, there to help save him? It was almost too good to be true, but then again some could say the same about his compassion towards humans.

You were with them at his house that night, celebrating his return. He had been watching you; how you mingled with the vampires as if they were human. You didn't give anybody permission to drink from you, much to Godric's pleasure.

When the suicide bomber attacked, he shielded you. The impact still hurt but you were free of any life-threatening injuries.

In return, you talked him out of meeting the true death. You stood with him on the top of that roof and convinced him that although things are hard, and he has a lot to atone for, there is still much to live for (even if he technically isn't alive).

He claimed you to protect you from other vampires after that. He knew how brutal and beast-like many vampire are. Most understood what it means to claim a human though, so if they knew you were Godric's they wouldn't touch you.

Deep talks. I feel like over time he'd open up about some of the things from his past that bothers him, and how his mental health is. You always listened and reassured him that he has changed for the better.

The only other vampire he would trust to be alone with you is Eric. Eric wouldn't dare touch what is Godric's and often finds himself looking after you when Godric is too busy with vampire stuff.

Quality time and words of affirmation would be his love languages. Please please please shower him with compliments and reassurance. He won't admit it in front of others but he loves it.

Honestly he's sweet all around. In all scenarios. He worships the ground you walk on and will treat you like royalty. That means in bed too.

He's constantly afraid of losing you. As much as he loves your humanity, he's painfully aware of how fragile you are in your current state.

In his two thousand years Godric has developed a great deal of patience and self-control, but the moment you are threatened by another vampire or otherwise non-human... he's not afraid to showcase what he's capable of.

He would never turn you unless you want him to. Even then, I feel like you would really need to convince him that you want that. Honestly you may have to wait until he is ready, because he is conflicted with the idea.

#true blood #true blood x reader #true blood fanfic #eric northman #eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfic #vampire #vampire x reader #vampire x human

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 4 months

Text

31st Story

Part 2

TW: Captivity, implied past torture, blood mention, restraints, mistrust, starvation mention, defiant whumpee, corrupt system, knife

Heyyy! Long-time no see. I blame college 100% because it takes up all my time, seriously. Happy New Year tho 💙

Villain could tell himself he was already used to the cold, hard embrace of the dull rock of his cell, to the claustrophobia-inducing lack of windows, to the fact that the only times he ever got to see the light was when someone walked in to beat him senseless, a feat made incredibly easy with the help of the chains that shackled his wrists and ankles, not allowing for much movement.

He could pretend that being covered in blood and filth, dazed and starving, was nothing to him, that the maddening urge to find out what time it was wasn't gnawing at him torturously.

"In here, wishful thinking is all you are capable of," a sunken-faced, old prisoner had told him before he was thrown into his personal hellhole. He hadn't said anything, but he'd believed the old hag to be weak and hopeless, and thus so was her sentiment.

Right now, all he wondered was if he'd break even faster than that woman might have. The villain screwed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop the chain of thoughts poisoning his mind, but all that did was make him think clearer, every disturbing image he tried so desperately to expel growing clearer and more vivid by the moment.

It was bad enough handling the physical pain, where every time he so much as shifted his form slightly, the tormented muscles in his back would scream in protest. But the physical side was tolerable, compared to being left at the mercy of his mind; a cruel, sinister thing.

So consumed he was in his own reverie, he hadn't even noticed as the door to his cell was unlocked, at least not until the light skirting around the corner had him snapping his eyes open and sitting up.

"This doesn't look good on you," a silky, almost serpentine voice called out.

"Superhero?" he asked, despising the note of trepidation in his voice.

"No. Just her lacklustre twin," she scoffed.

"Vigilante," he deduced with a slight fall of his shoulders in relief. It's not that he believed Vigilante would treat him well, it's just that no one could rival Superhero in cruelty.

"Still ever the genius," she responded dryly.

"What do you want?" he asked, almost desperate. If she was here to torment him, he wanted her to get over with it. It was becoming progressively more difficult to bear the state in which he was in, the one chock-full of waiting and thinning patience, of hoping the pain would start so it could end, that this time would pass faster.

Except it never did.

"It's strange seeing someone normally so high and mighty like this," she attested, dodging his question.

The older version of him would have let out a frustrated snarl and cussed her out for annoying him, but now all he could do was bite his tongue and stare at her with his new resting face, broken and defeated.

"Well, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

That was a response, albeit an indirect one. And of course, she wasn't here to hurt him. She was here to make sure he was comfortable, that he was enjoying his five-star stay in this resort in hell.

Sucks to have an army of enemies and not a single semblance of a friend.

He and Vigilante hadn't really had any direct bad blood, but he was a villain locked up in here, so by default, he was supposed to be her enemy, right? It didn't matter who walked in here or whether they knew him or not. They just loved to see him break, to see him, once so relentlessly powerful, reduced to less than nothing. Perhaps it brought them a sort of sick satisfaction, but he didn't know much about satisfaction anymore to judge.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she said casually, like promising him the impossible was some sort of small punishment, nothing to tear himself up about. Maybe she could rival her sister in cruelty.

Without warning, a hysterical laugh escaped his throat, only for him to bite his lip and stop abruptly, trying to clamp a hand over his mouth only for him to remember he was chained up.

Vigilante's face fell, and his own had silent tears streaming down it. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as though bricks were raining down on his shoulders and crushing his bones into nothing. His whole being seemed to itch with dread.

"Villain?" Vigilante called out, looking a mixture of confused and horrified.

"Just get over with it! Torture me until the floor runs red with my blood, tell me how death is a mercy above vermin like myself, and tell me to take it with a smile. Hit me harder when I can't bring myself to do it. Hit me until I feel all the pain of death but never attain it. Remember my current words as defiance, as another crime I've committed. I think watching me be humbled to the nothing I truly am will entertain you as any show would," he spat, only for regret to colour his features just as fast.

"Damn it. Villain, I don't want to do. . .any of this to you," Vigilante started, careful, trying for a semblance of gentle, something she was never particularly good at. "Like I said, I'm going to get you out of here," she continued again, hoping the stern tone indicated she was serious and not somehow going to torture him.

She'd never particularly liked him, mainly because he'd always been ice-cold, calculated to a point he seemed inhuman at times, no emotion whatsoever showing up on his face, besides a cool smugness. And by virtue of all the terrible things he'd done, all the blood on his hands. And yet, he was far from the worst thing out there, and most definitely not the villain in her story.

"And let's pretend you're telling the truth, which is completely fine by me because any mercy I've ever had here has always been a pretence, a figment of my imagination, you know. What could you possibly gain from this?" He raised an eyebrow, bearing a small resemblance to his usual self. Well, at least there was a slight amount of fight left in him, even if he was clearly holding back tears now.

But the villain's question wasn't completely outlandish. Vigilante did want something from him, but it wasn't a favour he would ever come to hate. "I need your help. My sister may seem like the goddamn tooth fairy to those who don't know better, but we know what her regime is really doing. This isn't about fighting crime, it's about her insatiable addiction to power."

"And where do I belong here?" The villain's voice still held the same disbelieving tone, his shoulders managing to tense even further.

"You're one of the few people who challenged her, Villain. And as much as it pains me to say it, you're a good strategist," she explained, even though she knew she'd barely convinced him in the slightest.

"I can't be the only one fitting that description, but I can be the only one owing you a favour too," he answered. Even if he didn't look half as confident, half as untouchable as before, the criminal was still just as clever. But it also meant he wasn't believing her anytime soon. Still, he wasn't wrong. The villain may not have smelled like roses all the time, but he'd be loyal to make sure they were even; a man of his word.

"What's it gonna be, Villain? Come with me or stay here?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, growing impatient.

Well, it didn't make sense for her to give him a choice if she was going to torture him, but sense no longer governed things in his mind, letting a fearful apprehension replace it, no matter how humiliating. The choice could easily be an illusion, another cruel joke in this comedy skit from the filthiest parts of hell.

But it could be a chance, and he was desperate. So desperate he'd risk feeling even further degraded when she laughed in his face and put him through whatever torment she'd have planned.

"Fine," he answered, looking up at her with trepidation in his eyes. He could already feel the regret tasting like salt on his tongue and the burn of acid at the back of his throat he recognised as shame.

So when the sound of his chains being unlocked rang in his ears, and the vigilante helped him up, the feeling of surprise was palpable.

"I just need to handcuff you while they can see us," she explained, noticing how slowly the villain nodded, mistrust still burning in his eyes.

She didn't like how weightless he seemed against her, barely able to walk. She hadn't fought him much, but she clearly remembered that while his frame was somewhat slender, the villain's build still used to be athletic. It was no surprise he'd deteriorated, but that didn't make his fate any less cruel.

"I'm moving him to the other facility," she announced, practically dragging the half-starved villain with her, the only response being curt nods from the guards.

They were lucky that no one here would dare question Superhero and by default, her sister, if they could even tell the difference between both.

And sure enough, there was an entry documented into the other facility, done with the help of a few handsomely paid workers. And while Superhero wouldn't buy into the lie for long, it would at least make sure she didn’t notice immediately that something was up.

✨️Break✨️

The drive to Vigilante's house was almost torturously long and reeking of the tension of two people who weren't used to each other. The villain ran his fingers over his wrists, now free of handcuffs, but they still hurt. All of him hurt, a constant, dull pain that he was almost used to, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the times where he could remember moments without aches all over his body.

That was only the least of it anyway.

"I think you'd want to clean up," the vigilante had suggested when they'd got to her house.

Instead of an off-hand "yeah" like he'd meant to, the first words that foolishly came tumbling out of his mouth were: "I can?"

This wasn't an option they gave him back there, and soon enough he'd stopped caring entirely.

"Oh," Vigilante had responded, giving him a solemn look. "I mean, yes, of course you can," she corrected hastily.

He nodded, quite literally shoving himself into the bathroom and swallowing down the awkward shame in his throat.

He'd grown so accustomed to pain that he'd barely even noticed the sting of the hot water on his open, practically fresh wounds, or how the shower water underneath him turned a dull pink. He was a lot more focused on how his sore muscles relaxed with the heat, how he seemed to get lighter with all the dirt off him, good sensations having become foreign to him in the time of his captivity.

He walked out to find a change of clothes (his clothes) on the bed in the room outside, catching his reflection in the mirror, bruises lining his cheekbones and jaw and heavy, dark circles underneath his eyes. The villain simply ignored the old memories of himself taking the time to style his hair and care for his skin, his mind hardwired for survival, looking around the room for anything he could use in case he had to defend himself.

Not that Vigilante was stupid enough for that.

Still, if she wished to hurt him, she could've done it faster, could've done it earlier. Maybe the villain wouldn't trust her blindly, but so far, he hated her less bitterly than he hated everyone else.

"How'd you get these?" he asked, walking out, looking down at the black zip-up hoodie and black sweats.

Vigilante shrugged. "From your place."

"You broke into my- whatever." It wasn't the strangest part about the situation now. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I think you need to rest," she suggested.

And she was entirely correct, given his exhaustion and how the shower had made him somewhat sleepy, so he nodded his head, walking into "his" room and waiting until she walked up to her room, waiting until he could walk out and check if she'd slept, and once he was sure, he walked into the kitchen, picking up a knife and bringing it to his room.

The villain knew it was scummy, but he wasn't about to risk being hurt again, and if the vigilante truly had good intentions, the knife would never be put to use. Still, the villain had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still better than any night he spent curled up on a cold, hard floor.

Trust is never easy, especially for those who have been hurt one too many times. But people were not made to live forever encased in solitude, a safe option to the blind and foolish, but never a permanent solution. And while taking a risk in times of suffering might seem like a wretched fate, sometimes it is the lifeline you need to breathe again.

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