#to know that there is a piece missing. and even to know what it is! kind of.
Note
i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.
it's been so long since did a funny lil piece like this
TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?
gn reader
Bakugou Katsuki
Demonic spirit
He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.
He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep.
He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.
Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.
You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.
You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.
Shigaraki Tomura
Ghost
You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.
It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.
You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.
Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.
Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.
Keigo Takami - Hawks
Guardian Angel
Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.
You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.
He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.
And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.
He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.
Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.
Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.
Midoriya Izuku - Deku
Hybrid between fae and troll
He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating.
Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.
Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over.
He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.
Shoto Todoroki
Vampire
It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.
Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.
You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.
He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.
He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.
Touya Todoroki - Dabi
Hyrbid between incubi and vampire
He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more.
Until you.
You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.
His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.
He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.
#yandere#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere mha#yandere my hero academia#yandere bnha#yandere bakugo#yandere bakugou#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere katsuki#yandere katsuki bakugou#yandere dabi#yandere touya#yandere todoroki#yandere tomura#yandere midoriya#yandere izuku#yandere keigo#yandere hawks#yandere headcanons#yandere hitoshi#yandere hitoshi shinso#yandere shinsou#yandere shoto#yandere shigaraki#yandere shinso hitoshi#yandere shouto#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere tomura shigaraki
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some things fall when they're meant to fall
25k (COMPLETE) | rated T | read on ao3
Eddie’s gaze drop to Buck’s lips—pink, like his birthmark. Eddie wants to taste those lips, and he wants it with a fierceness so sudden it shocks him.
“I’m, uh,” Buck stammers. “Last night. When you saw me and Tommy…we—we were on a date.”
Everything inside Eddie goes still. If his heart is a kite, then this is the moment it plummets back to earth.
or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.
written for @burnthatbridge
Chapter 4/4 now up on ao3
Eddie spends the next two days talking himself down from a panic attack and convincing himself that everything’s going to be okay. He doesn’t reach out to Buck. He doesn’t hear from him either, which is probably the longest they’ve gone without at least a text in…Eddie doesn’t even know how long.
But it's going to be okay. It has to be. This is Buck. They’re best friends. They’re partners. They’re always going to be okay, in the end.
Besides. Eddie’s already gotten through the hard part. He’s already detonated the bomb. He’s already smashed his heart to pieces at Buck’s feet. And yeah, things are going to suck for a while. It’s going to be hard, and painful, and awful but they’ll get through it. They same way they get through every hard, painful, awful thing.
This is what Eddie’s telling himself as drags himself into the fire station for their first shift since his confession. He ducks into the locker room, changing briskly into his uniform and trying not to startle every time someone enters. Trying not to be too obvious that he’s bracing himself for when it’s Buck.
The thing is, as much as he’s dreading him walking in, dreading Buck either trying to talk to him or awkwardly avoiding him, he also really can’t wait to see him. It’s been two days and he already misses him—the way he always skips into the locker room with a smile and a stupid joke or a fun new fact he’s learned, how his eyes inevitably find Eddie, and how he’ll always fall into step with him as they start to assemble for Bobby’s morning briefing.
But by the time Eddie’s finished changing and closed his locker, Buck still hasn’t shown up. Chim and Hen have already come in, changed, and filtered back out to the app bay for the morning briefing. Eddie trails after them, off-kilter without Buck’s shoulder knocking against his.
Bobby’s announcements are quick and to-the point. Eddie’s barely paying attention to them, his gaze darting around, searching for Buck.
But he’s not there.
(continue reading on ao3)
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Modern-ish Steddie AU where they meet in jail.
Steve shouldn't even be here; he got arrested for shoplifting, but it was all a misunderstanding. He was actually trying to prevent a shoplifting when he saw a couple of kids stuffing chocolate bars into their jacket pockets. They bolted, and he chased after them; unfortunately, he was still holding a bottle of (rather expensive) wine in hand as he did that, so he ended up the perceived cause of the blaring store alarm while the two shitheads escaped with zero consequences.
The store's got security cameras. So it will probably be fine, right? It will all be resolved soon enough. Steve just has to wait.
What makes him more nervous is the guy he's sharing the cell with.
Wild curly hair, tattoos all over his exposed arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt, the man wears orange like he was born in it. He seems to be about Steve's age, in his early 20s, but it's hard to tell. When Steve's brought in, he's lounging carelessly on his bed, trying to fold a piece of toilet paper into what looks like a crane.
The guy looks dangerous; who knows what could provoke him. Steve just settles quietly into the corner of his own bed at the opposite wall, drawing his knees up to his chin and trying to keep his head down. Literally.
Except every time he glances up, the man's rather intense stare is on him. Five minutes into this awkward silence, Steve can't handle it anymore, so he clears his throat and speaks up, still choosing to look at the floor.
"So, uh... what are you in for?"
He cringes immediately. It's probably the worst possible question to ask, and one most likely to get you a punch in the face. But when Steve looks up, he finds his cellmate fully grinning, now busying himself with tearing the toilet paper into little bits.
"Oh, just a bit of murder," he answers casually. "Our lord Satan requires sacrifice, you know."
Steve's almost convinced the guy's fucking with him (because surely, murder suspects are placed in separate cells from the minor offense folk, right?) but he's still a little terrified.
The guy (Eddie, Steve finally learns the name, although that might not be a real one) keeps talking, throwing balls of paper into the toilet by the wall. He keeps missing; there's little bits of white all over the floor already.
He says he's been to prison twice. Grand theft auto and arson. Escaped both times, apparently. He's planning an escape right now, too. Goes on, with a manic grin and wild gestures, about how one of the guards is actually a member of his cult, has got him covered.
It all has to be bullshit. It has to be. Steve doesn't dare comment on it, because at the small chance that it's actually true, he's fucked if he pisses this guy off.
A single paper ball finally lands inside the toilet, and Eddie whoops so loudly that Steve almost jumps.
"Aaaand the crowds cheer, boys'n'girls all going wild screaming his name!" Eddie yells, rapidly drumming his palms on his thighs. "It's the rising star of the new hot game of pottyball, it's Eddieee Munsooon!"
Yeah, so whatever the man was or wasn't lying about, Steve's not about to engage. Eddie's clearly all kinds of insane, he thinks, watching out of the corner of his eye as the guy, seemingly over his silly little game, starts wrapping the toilet paper around his head like a turban.
Except five minutes later, Eddie apparently decides that Steve's much better entertainment than toilet paper. He rolls off the bed and strolls across the tiny cell, stopping right in front of Steve, who in turn is doing his best to become one with the concrete wall behind him. With a shit-eating grin, Eddie strikes a pose, hip jutted out and one hand trying to keep the unsteady headgear in place.
"D'you think I look like a beautiful prince, Stevie?" He asks, batting his eyelashes. (Oh god, why did Steve tell him his real name, what was he thinking.) "Would you go on a magic carpet ride with me?"
Steve can't help it. He bursts out laughing. It almost sounds like Eddie's trying to flirt with him, except Steve stands by his insane conviction, because who the fuck flirts like that?!
The laughter doesn't seem to deter Eddie. He's grinning even wider now, and then he plants both hands on the bed on each side of Steve and leans in, tilting his head.
"Well aren't you pretty when you smile, princess."
Cold sweat runs down the back of Steve's neck as a sudden implication of what might be happening here hits him. He's only heard about it from like, movies and stuff, but does this actually happen? Oh shit. Is Steve gonna become this guy's prison bitch? Jail bitch, technically?
What's worse, a tiny voice in Steve's head suggests that maybe it's not so bad, actually. Eddie's a lunatic, but at least he's hot. (Really hot, if Steve's honest with himself.) And terrifying, so nobody would mess with Steve so long as he's Eddie's... whatever.
Thankfully, Steve's saved from further contemplating his hypothetical future prison life by a key rattling in the cell's lock; Eddie immediately leans back and jumps across the room, so by the time Chief Hopper steps through the door, he's already sitting cross-legged on his bed, hands folded in his lap, a picture of pure innocence.
Hopper turns to Steve first, something apologetic in his voice as he says, "We viewed the security camera footage, you're free to go, Harrington."
With a relieved huff, Steve scrambles to get up. Meanwhile, Hopper turns his attention to Eddie, regards the half-fallen-apart ridiculousness on his head, rolls his eyes and heaves a tired-sounding sigh.
"You too, Munson. Next time someone dares you to streak through a public space, just pick truth instead, would ya?"
Ten minutes later, they both walk outside in their street clothes. Well, Steve's in his street clothes; Eddie's only garment is a thin grey medical blanket Hopper's helpfully provided him with. Eddie's wrapped it around himself like a toga.
"So..." Steve turns to him and smirks. "How much exactly of what you said in there was total bullshit?"
Eddie cackles at the question. "I'd say about... ninety percent. I clearly am a rising star of pottyball, you know." He waits a beat for Steve to laugh, then adds, "And you do have a very pretty smile."
Steve bites his lip, feeling heat in his cheeks at the compliment. In the light of day, outside the cell, it's like he sees Eddie for the first time, in his silly blanket toga, squinting at the bright sunlight. And he feels ridiculous about ever thinking this man could be dangerous. Insane? Probably. Full of shit? Oh, definitely. Hot? Yes, very much. Dangerous though? Laughable.
And so, Steve finds himself asking, "Wanna get coffee and tell me something real about yourself?"
Eddie looks surprised by the offer, his smile turning a little bashful, and he hides behind a lock of hair before looking down at himself and chuckling.
"I'm probably gonna need some clothes first."
"Nah," Steve teases, briefly checking him out. "You're rocking this outfit."
"And you're absolutely right, I am, but unfortunately this thing is about five seconds from falling apart," Eddie pointedly fixes the half-loosened knot on his shoulder. "And something tells me Hopper won't be so lenient about repeated public indecency."
Steve giggles and finally takes pity on the guy. "Okay, my car's parked, like, two blocks from here. I have some clean gym clothes you can borrow."
"Lead the way, pretty boy," Eddie grins and follows him with a goofy little twirl.
Divider credit
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Here's an exercise to apply to your story: pick any scene and build up its stakes.
Most scenes should have at least a tiny bit of tension. Not every scene has to drip with artificial melodrama, but if the audience doesn't see a good reason to care about what's happening, they probably won't.
Using this 3-part exercise I just made up, just with a few quick bullet lists, you can dissect that scene's stakes and make them mean something.
PART 1: THE TELLING
Take a moment to focus on the stakes in your scene. What's the worst that could happen? List them.
Here's the rule: if a stake is obvious, don't count it.
Wrong: "If he kills me, I die."
Wrong: "If the villain fails to get the artefact, he fails."
Wrong: "If I lose this match, I lose."
Sure, yeah. But what ELSE?
Correct: "If I die, there'll be no one to protect my family."
Correct: "If I don't get this magical artefact before the hero stops me, my plans to take over the world will be sabotaged."
Correct: "If I lose this match, I'll never make it to the championships and show the world what I can do."
The stronger these stakes are, the better (within reason). "So-and-so might die" isn't a compelling (as it could be) narrative stake even in stories where people do die.
Even in low-stakes stories, the characters care about those low stakes. If it's important to them that they impress that client or get that job, tell us WHY they care. Is it their lifelong dream, or the promise they made to their dying mother, or the job that'll take them away from a horrible living situation? Will failure embarrass them in front of their crush?
PART 2: THE SHOWING
Now you know what could go bad, let the audience feel it. Just take things that matter and tweak them so that they're tangible.
"If I don't join the fight, my friend might die!" -> Show us an enemy raising a sword about to strike their friend down if the character doesn't rush in to save them NOW.
"If I drop out, I'll be a bad daughter!" -> Show us her parents bragging about their kid's academic performance and telling her they're happy they have a good kid with a bright future instead of some "no-good delinquent."
"If I don't pay by next week the bank's gonna take our house!" -> Show us the character begging for just a few more days, show their reaction to overhearing someone talking about buying the house from the bank to bulldoze the property. Show what the house means to them and how they made it their home.
PART 3: THE HAPPENING
Remember, a bullet seems a whole lot deadlier when it doesn't literally miss every time. But it would be strange if every scifi involved the whole planet blowing up, right? Or if the main characters all died? So, you have to show us you're not kidding by employing a secret third thing. Here's the trick to this: divide up the stakes into pieces and make one of the pieces happen.
If the protag's team is in actual danger, just one of them can die. Maybe even someone "essential" -- the climax will be boosted from the team overcoming this setback, the story becoming more clutch and unpredictable to the audience.
A marriage on the rocks? Show that their previously happy kid is suddenly hiding things from them and failing in school.
The city in danger? Show us buildings being knocked over.
Hell, the protag themselves in danger? They've got a leg they might not be using.
If a stake can't be split down like this, it might be better to have the bulldozers show up at the house during the climax. Maybe even let the house fall.
After this exercise, your scene should now feel a whole lot more weighty, whether it's a job application or a final battle to the death. Again, not every scene needs tension and it can go too far and become silly, but I hope this exercise helps you the way it helps me.
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Part 5
(Told y'all I was back!!!)
Content:
Established BDSM Dynamics, Attempted Intimidation, Threats, Mild Violence and Injury
You suspect Konig gets off on watching you interact with others.
He’s an insecure man, there’s no doubt about that. He gets twitchy about other men interacting with you beyond brief, bland exchanges. A sleepy cashier at the grocery store? That’s fine. The waiter complimenting your choice of meal for some reason? Konig’s eyeing the steak knife.
That said, something about the way you are in a public setting has him constantly shifting. Practically squirming. And it’s not just social anxiety.
You smile at the employee that showed you where the towels are and Konig adjusts himself as soon as their back is turned. You politely brush off a mistake in your food order, his pupils spread like an oil spill.
You ask him about it one night, ever curious about this strange, obsessive creature clinging like remora.
“You are… very nice to people,” he explains slowly.
The two of you are doing a puzzle. You watch his big, calloused fingers fidget with a border piece. He’s forgotten to hand it to you while thinking, but you’re not in any rush.
“You are good at being… normal. No one knows that you are a killer. They can’t tell.”
You snort softly. “I am normal.”
He shoots you a skeptical look and you laugh. (Don’t miss how he flusters either.)
“Am I that different here than out there?” you wonder.
“Yes.”
You hum. Have never really considered that, but it makes sense. In privacy, you have nothing to react to. No faces to make or scripts to follow. You have Konig now but he’s different, there was never a reason to treat him like everyone else.
“So what about it arouses you?” you finally ask.
“That they don’t know.”
You don’t understand. You hardly ever do. You’re extra nice to the poor teenager that prepares your coffee next time you two go out. (You make Konig edge himself on the drive back home, then overstimulate him to near unconsciousness on the dining table.)
It’s not surprising, then, when he shyly asks if you’ll come meet some of his KorTac teammates.
He asks with his face smooshed between your thighs, nose crushed against your pubic mound. Just getting started, the taste of you already clouding his thoughts. The toe of your boot is nestled beneath his heavy balls; his voice pitches up proportional to the bend of your ankle.
“Why?” you ask, flat and emotionless. It makes him drool when you bleach the inflection from your voice, stripping it down to phonetics and fricatives. A drop of saliva trickles down your thigh. You twist your fingers in his hair, making him lick it up. (“Keep it tidy,” you’d told him. So far he’s barely managing, but he gets off on the struggle to please you.)
He mumbles something you can’t make out, so you force his head up and watch him blink. His swallows thickly, chin already glistening with slick, pink tongue lolling out across swollen lips.
“Again,” you command. Calm, even.
“I w-want them to meet you… if they can tell…”
You tilt your head. “If they can tell I’m a murderer?”
He whimpers, teeth sinking into his lip hard. You hitch your boot up, watch the tears collect in the corners of his eyes. Precum drip, drip, drips down his stomach from the vivid, weeping head of his straining cock.
“Is that all? You want me to meet your little friends with blood on my hands?” you coo.
He tries to nod, but your grip is far too tight. You click your tongue off the roof of your mouth. His hips jerk with the derisive sound.
“Or is it that you want to show off your owner?” you wonder. His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. You huff in amusement as the pieces click into place.
“I see now.”
You cram his flushed face between your thighs again, grinding your pussy on the flat tongue he instantly presents.
“You want me to be a pretty, sweet thing. You want to show me off in some frilly sundress and play helpless civilian. I’ll shake their hands and they won’t know I’ve ripped a man’s guts out. I’ll smile pretending I haven’t bit someone’s finger off.”
He’s whining high and needy, rocking himself on the laces of your boots. You continue, rambling in a way you never do outside these moments.
“And you want me to do all that with my collar around your throat.” You press his face in tighter and close your thighs. “Maybe I should stab someone, huh? I’m sure I can find someone worth the effort.”
You feel the hot pinpricks of tears on your skin, his voice uncontrolled and breaking with desperation. He’s now arching his hips away and you know it’s because he’s trying not to cum. It’s a new rule you just recently established - that if he’s allowed access to your cunt, he gives it his full attention. Treats it like the rare and fleeting privilege it is.
All that just from your little tease.
The image is an intriguing one. You’ve never taken any pleasure from hiding your actions from others. But there is something almost… quaint, you suppose, about meeting men who kill for a living as a killer yourself. They’ll look at you and see Konig’s quiet civilian girlfriend. This will be a secret just for you and Konig. You’ve never had someone else know while you play a part.
An unexpected wave of pleasure knocks the breath out of you. You didn’t expect to find the prospect so…
“Fuck,” you whisper, blinking through stars. “I’ll meet your friends if you make me cum in the next thirty seconds.”
It takes him thirty-two, but considering the intensity of it, you decide to be generous.
You show up to base in a floral-print dress and pretty sandals. The key to Konig’s collar shines in the hollow of your throat on a dainty chain, prominently displayed. (His eyes keep skipping down to it. You pinch his thigh when he nearly misses a red light, chastising to be more careful. That only results in a plump outline down the thigh of his pants. Your mistake.) Hair done, a bit of makeup, you make for a nice character.
The head of Konig’s squad meets you first. Declan O’Conor, a shorter man who introduces himself with a wide smile, a rough Irish accent, and - most favorably - no appreciative glances at your body. Off to a surprisingly commendable start. You smile back and let Konig introduce you, eyes roaming the private KorTac compound.
Sleek black vehicles, modern-looking buildings. Distant pods of joggers on what looks like a training field. Even more distant sounds of guns. Passing personnel. Some of the men doing double takes, a couple of nudge-nudges. There’s not much of interest to you.
Declan shoos the two of you off after some pleasantries and an idea of where to find other members of Konig’s main squad.
You meet Aksel, Roze, Horangi, and Stiletto playing cards in one of the rec rooms. Roze teases Konig about finally bringing you ‘round. Aksel takes the initiative to stand to greet you - unnecessary, but not offensive. While his back is turned, Horangi peeks at his cards. You make eye contact with Stiletto when she notices as well and twitch your lips in a tiny, knowing smirk. Neither of you say a word.
Only two of them (Horangi and Roze) are on Konig’s usual team, but he’s worked with the other two before. You’re more interested in watching Konig interact with them. Like you, he tends to let others lead conversation in public - though the reasoning is different. At home, though, he usually initiates and you enjoy letting him talk and talk, only chiming in when asked for your opinion or reaction (or lack thereof).
Though you’re not left completely unincluded - the other KorTac members ask polite surface questions that you respond to automatically. It’s all habit, a performance you’ve given a thousand times, a veteran actor. You’ve perfected volume, pitch, inflection, spaces, down to the shape of your mouth as you speak. Your face is easier. People are good at expressions - too good. You hardly have to do anything to express easy-calm-friendly. Relaxed brows, a slight curve at the corners of your mouth, loose jaw. There: Konig’s normal, if shy, girlfriend.
When the two of you leave the rec room, Konig pulls you down a little side hallway and kisses desperately along your jaw.
“You are so good…” he mumbles breathlessly, “...so good at pretending.”
You snort, bemused. “Is that what it is?”
This is just being a person, out in the world. No one is their true selves around strangers, you thought. Is it so different when it’s you doing it?
He groans softly into your throat, mouthing at your necklace. “This will be harder than I thought.”
“We’re not fucking here,” you say.
“Yes, miss.”
You let him hide there for a moment longer, then usher him along to the next thing. He does manage to give you a decent tour of the facilities, telling you stories and explaining how KorTac does things.
You meet Hutch along the way, just a brief greeting in one of the halls. Again, not a usual member of Konig’s team but they’ve worked together before and Konig is full of pride and enthusiasm to show you off. (Maybe you’d be annoyed if his presentation was more “look what I bagged” rather than “look at who found me worthy”.)
It’s as he’s showing you one of the briefing rooms that you meet Krueger.
And you know, instantly. From the slow, exaggerated twice-over, to the obvious way he shifts his lower half, eyes lidded. You feel the mask of the day slip.
“Is this the tail you’ve been chasing instead of your own, Bruder?” he asks, sauntering closer. He could say it in German - but he wanted you to hear it.
You blink once, slow.
Konig, at your side, hisses an embarrassed correction. Even with that ridiculous hood on, you know his face must be burning. You take a single, small step forward, meeting Krueger as he sidles up too close to be appropriate. You introduce yourself without offering a hand.
“Do you know what it is we do here, little girl?” he taunts. “What your boyfriend does?”
“Yes,” you answer.
“You know he is a sadistic fuck, eh? Can break a man’s spine over his knee.”
“It’s impressive,” you admit, shrugging.
He narrows his eyes, but it seems more mocking than challenging. He doesn’t think you are anything to take seriously. An interesting bauble to bat at and toy with, to see if you’ll jump or squeak for his entertainment. He cracks his neck and takes another step, the netting that hides his face playing shadows across what little skin is visible.
“Has he told you about me?” he asks, voice dipping.
He has. “Only some.”
He looms in closer, radiating menace. He’s a broad man, makes up for height with presence alone. Objectively intimidating, you suppose.
“Trying not to frighten you,” he coos, “what a sweet boyfriend.”
You hum, noncommittal. Not even sure if you can feel fear while conscious. In your nightmares, it’s visceral enough to taste - but it only ever lingers on the back of your tongue once you wake. After all, there’s nothing to fear among the living. Not anymore.
“Is there something to be frightened of?” you ask.
“I could tell you such tales,” he croons, bending his head to speak low and intimate. “Maybe even a demonstration… of the things they accuse me of…”
You see the flicker of his hand in the corner of your eye.
“Don’t touch me,” you warn.
He laughs, rust and dried blood. “Or what, little mouse?”
“You’ll regret it.”
You hear Konig shift behind you, though you can’t tell if it’s in preparation to intervene or out of pure arousal. Perhaps both.
“Is that a threat?” Krueger mocks.
You are under no delusions that you’re better equipped for a fight than him. He has more experience and training, he’ll win in an altercation, that’s just a fact. But you don’t have to win, that’s not what you’ve promised. You’ll just make him regret starting it in the first place.
You look him in the eye.
“Yes.”
His fingertips skim the strap of your dress. You lunge, slamming your forehead into his nose. It crunches. He jerks his hand back, instinctively reaching for his face, folding a bit. Point made, step back, adjusting your necklace into place again.
And then Konig reaches past you, snatching the shoulder of Krueger’s shirt and shaking him hard. He snarls out something in German, sending Krueger to his knees.
“I am sorry, miss,” he says to you fervently, “I am so sorry. I did not think - he is an asshole. I am sorry.”
You pat his arm, lean past his hulking form, still gripping Krueger now on his knees. You curl your fingers in the netted mask and jerk his head forward.
“This is the best way to stop the bleeding,” you say. “Don’t be rude again.”
He gurgles something out, you can’t even tell if it’s English or German. You release him and turn on your heel.
“The range is next, right?”
Konig is at your side instantly. “Yes, miss.”
You meet the last of Konig’s regular teammates outside the range. (You had to cut that little excursion short. Even seeing you with a gun in your hands had his knees shaky. You got through one magazine before he was making noises in the back of his throat. It took fifteen minutes for his erection to deflate a reasonable amount.)
He’s a big man, covered from head to toe in black tactical gear - again, with a mask. Coming in with a sniper rifle over his shoulder as you and Konig are leaving. His name is Nikto. You meet his eyes as you smile and nod in greeting, Konig introducing you like before.
Maybe you haven’t quite sunk back into your Normalness yet, or perhaps Not Quite People recognize each other. But he takes one look at you and knows. You know too.
Apropos nothing, he offers you a wicked knife, hilt first. Your fingers don’t touch as you take it.
“For your next hunt,” he rumbles. “Konig is lucky.”
You blink as he walks off, glance at the blade in your hand. “It’s nice.”
Konig fidgets, staring after Nikto. “How did he know?”
You shrug.
Konig turns back to you, nervousness swirling. “Are you worried?”
You snort. “No.”
Why would a bear bother a mountain lion?
That night, you lay Konig down and grind your dripping pussy along the rigid length of his cock. He twists his fingers tight in the bed sheets (you already hear them tearing; you have spares for this) and cries while you recount every part of the day as if he wasn’t there with you. He’s stark naked, vulnerable, trembling while your dress drapes over your thighs, obscuring the obscene view of his cockhead rubbing your puffy clit.
He begs in intervals but you just keep speaking over him, recounting needless details like building names and the food served in the cafeteria. When you reach the end of the visit, you lean down. Propping yourself on his chest, you speak soft and syrupy warm into his ear.
“You did so well handling Krueger today. Such a good boy, keeping him down for me. I’m proud of you for knowing to wait. My good guard dog.”
He dissolves into a puddle in seconds, weakly asking permission to please, please, please let him cum early just this once.
You let him.
In gratitude, he eats you out until you fall asleep.
First | Previous | TBC...
Masterlist
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#dark fic#konig#cod konig#konig x reader#pathetic stalker konig#rabid reader#in love with a fever fic#heavy kink
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SO MUCH TO LOSE PART 12
rating: 18+
tags: mentions of death, mentions of violence, fingering, dirty talk, jealousy, angst.
a/n: I'm sorry y'all lunch with friends ran late and it's definitely not the afternoon anymore! But here it is! I know y'all have waited a long time for this so I hope its to your liking. It's over 12,000 words and I swear I could write more but then I'd never publish anything. You know your comments and reblogs make me continue on, so please don't forget to do one of the other or even better, both!
masterlist here
-------------------
"Wake up."
You jolt awake, eyes blowing wide. You instinctively go for the clock at your beside at home but it's not there. Nothing is where it usually is. As your sleepy mind clears you see two brown eyes staring down at you.
"Time to go. Get dressed."
You clothes are dried and laying beside you on the couch and the dead fire. The already dressed Joel leaves the room likely to give you privacy. You get dressed in a hurry, pulling your clothes and boots on before stumbling after Joel.
"Did you sleep much?"
"Yep. Plenty."
You don’t believe him. There are large circles under his eyes and he yawns so wide that his jaw cracks. You think maybe he got an hour tops.
You follow him down to see the horses huddled up together in the center of the room. Joel obviously used two of the blankets from upstairs because they’re thrown over each of the horses’ backs. They give a soft whinny as the two of you approach.
“Sure am missing breakfast,” you muse with a sleepy smile. “Even that oatmeal that sticks to the roof of my mouth.”
Joel’s mouth curls a bit at one side in amusement. You busy yourself with kissing Chestnut’s muzzle once more before you feel Joel tap you.
“Here.”
You glance over to see Joel holding a piece of jerky out to you. You take it gratefully before pausing.
“Wait, isn’t this your portion?”
“Ate mine already.”
He’s lying.
He gave you all the jerky. Let you drink the rest of his coffee. Even shared his precious whiskey.
“You sure?”
Joel hefts the saddles onto each of the horses, making sure that they’re secured as you gaze at him in question. He feels you staring at him and instead of his usual snark he just glances over gives you a nod.
“Ready to go?”
“Mhm.”
You and Chestnut follow he and Midnight out the house, helping the horses to slowly maneuver down the icy steps into the snow. Even after the storm it comes to above your ankles. Joel frowns, looking down at it.
“We’re gonna have to walk ‘em back. Don’t trust that they won’t hurt themselves in all this.”
“Of course.”
You trail after him, eyes stuck on the ground in front of you.
Joel leads, you follow.
And instead of angering you or making you feel small and useless, it makes you bloom. Like a flower warmed by the sun, its petals unfurling. You feel yourself smiling to yourself a big, toothy grin that you’re glad Joel can’t see. He’d ask you why and you’re not sure that you could answer him sufficiently. You don’t quite understand it yourself.
The walk back is long, especially with the horses moving unsteadily over the snow. Thankfully Chestnut is easily led, unlike last night. The worst of the storm is behind you, leaving only the crunch of icy snow and trees heavy with white.
Your cheeks and end of your nose are pink from the cold, the scarf tight around your throat. Your fingers are warm in your gloves and you're relieved that everything dried sufficiently in front of the fire last night. You glance at Joel’s broad back, suddenly fixated on an errant thought.
“Joel can I ask you something?”
He visibly cringes. “What?”
“How did you get so good at shooting and fighting?”
His shoulders relax. “Practice.”
“You didn’t fight or shoot before Outbreak Day?”
“Only when I had to get Tommy out of scrapes,” Joel says quietly and you notice he’s slowed his walking until you’ve matched paces and you’re both walking side by side. “I did some boxing when I was younger. Didn’t have much time when Sar- when I got older. The shooting came after. A necessary skill when you’re smugglin’.”
You nod, knowing that he was about to bring up his daughter. Despite the closeness you feel, you have no desire to delve into that very heavy topic. You’re curious about his smuggling as well, but you don’t want to bring that up either as it seems strangely personal.
“You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon,” Joel continues on as if you’re a particularly engaged student. “A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.”
To you a book is a book, a candlestick a candlestick. You don’t see things as potential weapons, only for their intended uses
“I never really thought of that,” you admit. “Although I wish I was more of a natural at shooting.”
"Needed to keep up with your lessons," Joel murmurs and you think you hear a softening of his tone. "I could try teachin' you again."
"I've already got someone teaching me," you tell him, back straight and standing tall. You tell Joel this in the pathetic hopes that it will impress him, that he will see how you’re really trying. But instead he scowls at the air in front of him.
“If it’s that Luke boy you’re better off goin’ in blind,” Joel says, eyes fixed in front of him. “He couldn’t even hit a nail straight. Some fuckin’ cabinetmaker.”
Luke is most assuredly not a boy; he’s at least thirty five. Joel calling him a boy makes you smirk despite being irritated at the insult to your friend.
“You don’t even know Luke.”
Joel looks sullen and you're confused that he's angry again. You really can't anticipate his moods.
The two of you continue on in silence and you think that Joel seems a bit irritated for some reason you can’ unearth. Likely just exhausted like you are after a stressful day and uneven sleep.
"Thought you wanted to be a good shot?” Joel says suddenly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You need a competent teacher."
"I have a competent teacher and it isn't Luke anyway," you bite off, a line of irritation slicing between your brows.
"Who? Aaron? Greg?" Joel's voice is hard edged. His pace increases with every name said. "Kevin?"
“If you must know its Jennifer,” you sigh, irritable from your poor sleep and Joel’s sudden sullenness.
"Jennifer?" Joel's brows untie his features relaxing.
“I know how much you hate me bringing her up,” you sneer. “But I can’t really avoid it now can I?”
Joel gives a grunt by way of reply all the while your mind drifts to your friend. The girl who likes Joel and has for a long while. Jennifer the girl who has always been up front and honest with you.
What will you tell her?
He's quiet with you on the walk back and you wonder if he's distracted like you. He's likely tired like you are, muscles aching from the lumpy couch. Now you know how those muscles feel against your cheek and the memory makes you feel tingly.
In your distracted state and the slick of the snow you tumble, landing on your hands and hissing. Angry tears well in your eyes and you wince at the way your wrist smarts.
"Fuck."
Your knees and are wet from snow and you miserably wait for the chastising or rolled eyes shot your way by Joel. Instead you hear the crunch of snow and he's there half-crouched in front of you, one hand on Midnight's reins, the other held out to you.
You stare at it a moment, the glove wide and cracked with age. Then finally you take it, lifting your eyes to his. You're surprised to find concern.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
"You good to keep goin'?"
"Uh huh."
He nods and then he turns, dropping your hand and striding back with the horse towards the trail.
You watch the back of Joel's head as he saunters ahead of you, listening to his quiet murmurs to Midnight and fixating on the loose curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. You're captivated by the interwoven strands of dark brown and grey that glint like tinsel in the light of the morning.
You're concerned that the thought of Joel makes your belly grow warm and tighten. The man who previously drove you insane with irritation now lingers in your thoughts almost pleasantly.
He shared things with you. Things you have a feeling he doesn't share with many others. He told you about Tess and he wanted to know about you. So what does that mean? Does he see you as more than just a pleasurable release?
Do you want him to?
You don't know how to feel about Joel right now. And you don’t know what you’re going to tell Jennifer if she asks.
When you cross into Jackson City cold and exhausted a few hours later you're surprised to hear loud commotion behind the wall and electrified fence.
"It's them!"
"Open the fucking gate!"
You and Joel exchange a brief look before the entrance is opened to you and you stalk forward. You see the large group gathered at the wall on the other side, thankful that the snow has been shovelled.
The entrance to the gate is full of the other patrol members looking like they're about to head out. You glance behind you to see the snow storm kicking back up just as the gate is closed and locked securely behind you. You glance back at the
Tommy is giving a relieved huff of air as he sees you both slowly make your way inside the walls, the horses trailing after you.
Jennifer is atop Glimmer; talking animatedly to a new patrol person you don't know. She looks beside herself, her eyes red-rimmed. When she turns back and sees you she lets out a choked sob and scrambles off Glimmer before she runs in your direction, nearly tackling you into a tight embrace.
"I was so worried," she says, voice shaky. "Luke and I were up all night just waiting for word. I was gonna go with the search party and-and-"
"I'm here in okay," you say with a slight laugh, your arms banding around her as she hiccups a cry into your shoulder. "I swear I'm okay."
You notice the timid form of Ellie over Jennifer's shoulder. She sees you first and casts a brief smile at you before her eyes search the crowd for Joel. When she hears him snapping at Tommy to give him breathing room you see the tears she blinks back. You watch as Ellie slips through the crowd chasing after his voice.
When she gets to him there's no hesitation on his part. He brings her into his arms and murmurs something into her ear. Ellie's face crumples but she buries it in the front of Joel's jacket, her tiny hands gripping the front of it.
She loves him so much.
You catch his eye over Ellie's head, not missing the gentle nod he casts your way. It warms you deeply. Things feel different between the two of you.
'I'm so glad you're okay," Jennifer says wiping the tears from her cheeks and drawing your attention back to her. "I just ... I was so scared."
"Me too," you nod, surprised to find yourself choked up. You haven’t had friendship like this before – the kind of tenderness that comes with true companionship. You wonder if this is how every friendship is supposed to feel and if so, you mourn that it took you this long to stumble upon it.
The tall, lanky form of Luke steps forward from the murmuring crowd his face breaking into a relieved expression. He jogs over in your direction and takes you aback by gathering you into his arms and rocking you tightly against him.
“Thank fuck!”
You giggle in his neck, inhaling the soft, warm scent of coffee and wool from his scarf. He holds you like this for several moments, tenderly and with affection.
"I know you wanted an adventure but honestly," he says with mock irritation into your hairline.
Laughter bubbles from the three of you, relieved and silly. You hug him back tightly, thankful for the relationships you've built, thankful for the levity he's bringing to the moment. Grateful that you found he and Jennifer at the end of the world.
You hear a throat clear behind you and you turn in Luke's grip.
Joel stares back at you, mouth in a thin line. He's got Ellie tucked under one arm, Tommy at his side and several of the others attempting to talk to him. But he’s still, the only movement his dark eyes taking you in.
You break away from Luke and move towards Joel, feeling overcome with emotion. Last night could have been so terrifying if not for the broad man standing in front of you. A sensation of deep gratitude curls around your ribs, lessening the anxiety you would normally feel in his presence.
"Thank you for everything, Joel."
You give him a warm smile, even going so far as to touch your hand to his forearm. Ellie watches this, a faint smile settling over her lips as your glove makes contact with his jacket.
You wait for that same quiet kindness from Joel that accompanied you home this morning and are confused when he pulls back from your hand stiffly, his voice melting into that familiar husky baritone.
"Mind movin' outta the way sometime this year?"
And just like that in the blink of an eye the old Joel is back. That same haughty glare, the same squaring of his jaw. You deflate, shoulders slumping before you move backwards.
Nothing has changed.
He strides by your group, the feel of his leather jacket dragging across the back of your glove.
"Must be exhausted after last night," Jennifer surmises, watching after him a moment. "You must be too."
You watch after Joel and Ellie, seeing the rigid way he walks beside her now. You think of Joel’s changeable moods and you exhale softly.
"Yeah," you nod. "I am."
///
Jennifer insists on walking you home and makes sure you are taken care of. She draws you a bath and leaves to bring you back a warm lunch from the dining hall. She makes sure your bed is changed with fresh sheets, warming them with a water bottle from her place. She even offers to sleep on your couch in case you need anything that first evening back.
“You don’t have to do that,” you insist that evening before the fire, your robe tightly around you and socks toasty from being propped up by the flames. It reminds you of how cold you were with Joel only a day ago.
You’re close to falling asleep but you like having Jennifer in the house, nearby. You like the sound of clattering dishes and her chirping away about something in town before she’s tucked up on one side of the couch, her hands around a warm mug of tea.
“I can’t thank you enough for all of this,” you tell her, feeling moved.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something to me.”
Jennifer smiles and you watch how the fire warms her face in an entirely different way than Joel. Instead of looking intimidating, it’s like she softens in the warm light. She looks sad though in a way you don’t recall from before.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” she finally says with a cracked chuckle, her long neck bobbing as she swallows.
“Yeah right. You have so many friends,” you say. “I’ve barely ever seen you alone. You always have company.”
“Company, but not real friends,” she tells you. “Not ones who don’t judge me.”
You recall your initial judgments of the beautiful, blonde Jennifer. That she was giggly and frivolous and that she lived to gather men. You’d had no idea of her tough upbringing, of all she sacrificed, of her talents, of her unending support. You wonder how many others you judged in your life and missed out on the pleasure of knowing.
“I judged you,” you tell her honestly. “When I first met you I thought you were a vapid, pretty flirt.”
Jennifer is immediately laughing across from you, wiping the tension from your face.
“Yeah but everyone makes judgments like that with strangers! I made judgments about you before I got to know you too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I thought you were an antisocial bitch,” Jennifer says with a crooked grin and you can’t help but bark out a laugh in reply.
“What?”
“You never spoke to anyone, never smiled. You were always reading or walking off by yourself.” Jennifer smirks. “You intimidated the shit out of me.”
“No,” you say in awe. “I intimidated you?”
“Of course!” Jennifer giggles. “So serious and always reading. Plus you just carried yourself in a way that felt. . . it felt like you had walls up, you know?”
You realize that Jennifer is very astute amongst her other gifts.
“Then I saw Ellie with you that morning,” she adds. “And I figured, maybe like Joel there was more to you than met the eye. Then I heard you were on patrols with Joel and the rest is history.”
Yeah, the rest is history.
You can’t help but curl your lip in amusement. Who knew a chance patrol pairing could lead you into a friendship you’d never thought possible? Jennifer shuffles back on the couch, looking cozy in her latest fashion piece (a cable knit looking sweater with felted strawberry accents).
Jennifer is quiet, staring into the fire. She seems strangely stoic today and you feel like it’s not just from your disappearance. You give her a sidelong glance, lips pressed tightly together. She looks off into middle distance, her normally mirth-filled eyes suddenly hollow.
"You okay, Jen?"
She doesn’t reply, only turns her head to glance in your direction when you prompt her with a gentle tap to her wrist, settling back into the couch before turning to look at you head on.
“Just a tough time of year,” Jennifer acknowledges as she tosses a twig in the fire. She looks different tonight, like a ghostly version of herself.
You surmise that perhaps with the approaching holidays she’s feeling down in the mouth. It's like that with lots of folks. You shift your body to face her, showing her that you're listening and you wait for her to talk, holding the silence for her.
She looks to be fighting an internal debate.
"I shot a kid."
She says it with a choke, as if the words are fighting to come loose from her throat. These weren't the words you'd been expecting from the beautiful, flirty Jennifer. These words are ugly, twisted and cold.
“I’ve only told a few people,” she adds, chin wobbling.
You stare at her, eyes unwavering, waiting. Words aren't your strong suit. All you can offer her is a steady silence. She absently scratches at the side of the warm mug she holds.
"This was years ago around this time," she continues, her eyes downcast. "I was with my brothers and we were going through to one of the safety zones. We'd found this old market, had some tinned goods. My brothers go to check out the back and I go down an empty aisle thinking I might find something useful."
Jennifer swallows harshly, her teacup held so tightly her knuckles look parchment white.
"All of a sudden this kid comes out of nowhere. Couldn't have been more than ten. He's skin and bones, wild eyes saying these words over and over, a bunch that I don't understand. He had a knife in his hand and I thought he was trying to come for me. I didn't even think, I just raised the gun and I shot him between the eyes."
You can almost hear the echo of that gunshot in the silent room now.
Jennifer is staring over your shoulder, like she can see the ghostly apparition of the fallen child behind you. It makes goosebumps rise along your body, and you continue to keep your even silence. You know that she doesn't want you embrace or your pity, just your presence.
"My brother's told me I did what was smart,” Jennifer whispers. “Told me to move on. But his face when he was dead, his shrieking, it just kept playing over and over in my head. When I went to bed, when I woke up. It felt wrong."
Tears slide down her cheeks now, as quick as she brushes them away with the edge of her sweater, new ones appear, soaking into the wool.
"I came to Jackson a few months after that. My brothers wanted to keep goin', they heard about some place in Canada that they thought would be a better fit for us. But... I needed a fresh start where no one knew me, where I could be someone totally new. They were upset to leave me, but I pretty much insisted on it."
You shift in your seat, listening intently. Jennifer has this sickening look on her face and you know behind her eyes is a memory of this terrible experience. It makes you want to hold her hand but she’s folded into herself and you don’t want to force her into anything.
"So I was living here in Jackson a few months and I’m at the dining hall one night and I hear this woman speaking another language. At first I barely notice, but then I realize this word keeps popping up. Pomoz. Pomoz. Same as that kid."
At this point Jennifer places her empty teacup on the aged wood coffee table. She stretches her long legs before pulling them to her chest. She sniffs again, unable to meet your gaze.
"Turns out he was speaking Polish. So I tell the lady the sentence that has been haunting me for months and months and I ask her for the translation." Jennifer swipes along the bottom of her runny nose with the back of her sweater.
"You know what he was saying?"
You don't move. Not even to shake your head.
"He was saying help me. I'm lost." Jennifer's lower lip trembles. "Pomóż mi, zgubiłem się. He was just a kid begging for my help and I shot him dead without thinking."
Now the sobs come, wracking her slim body as she curls into herself.
"That little b-boy died on a dirty supermarket floor alone and scared because of me."
You can't help it if it isn't in your nature; your hands go to Jennifer's and hold tightly. And when her warm teardrops land on the back of them you move forward to wrap her in your arms. You haven’t held someone to comfort them in so long that it feels foreign to you, but you grip her tightly, letting her tears soak the front of your nightdress.
You don’t offer her saccharine words of comfort, you don’t give her pity, you just hold her until the tears stop flowing and her breathing returns to normal. Even after all of that you continue to hold her until she squeezes back, letting you sit there in the quiet night.
"Thank you," Jennifer finally says in a croaked voice before pulling back. You tilt your head at her.
"For what?"
"For letting me talk about this stuff and not judging me." She pushes her hair from her glassy eyes.
"You did what anyone else would have done," you assure her honestly. “I know you don’t believe it, but you did. How could I judge that?”
"I think you're the first person who I ever told this to who didn't look at me like I was a piece of shit," she says with a forced laugh. You shake your head.
"I could never look at you like that.”
She gives you a wry smile. "Oh yeah? Why's that? Cuz I taught you to shoot?"
You give her a weak smile in return.
"Because... You reminded me about the good parts of life. Of having friends and singing and drinking tea. You made me leave my cave and come blinking out into the sunshine again."
Jennifer looks moved by your words, her large eyes growing glossier.
"I think that's why I wanted to get to know you," Jennifer observes with a sniffle. "It felt like you were outrunning something too. Trying to forget."
You look at your hands in your lap before giving a resolute nod.
"Yeah."
"Sometimes I think that's why I like to distract myself with crushes or teaching people to shoot or makin' dresses," she muses. "Being alone with my thoughts too much is..."
She doesn't finish that thought but she doesn't need to.
You couldn't understand more.
And then its like she’s trying to push back this burdensome memory and she forces a smile to her face. You can see her adopting this persona, this safety person that she hides behind. Happy, bright, Jennifer who flirts and shoots and rides horses and drinks beer at the Bison. And you let her slip into this character because you are no one to judge how a person chooses to survive.
“So tell me, what was it like being there with Joel at night?” she asks with a sidelong smirk in your direction. “I know he’s not your favorite person.”
Before when Jennifer asked you about Joel it used to irritate you. You thought she was using you for your information. But when she asks you now there’s nothing but amusement, like two grade-school girls discussing their crush from third period biology.
“I thought about you actually,” you grin toothily. “Thought about how you’d give anything to swap spots with me.”
Jennifer does a fake swoon, falling dramatically backward; the back of her hand on her forehead and you can’t help but bust out giggling. Jennifer giggles right back, sitting back up and bouncing in her seat.
“Tell me everything!”
You can’t tell her everything.
You give her the bullet points; the thundersnow, the horses, Joel’s calves. You leave out that you were both naked under the blankets sharing whiskey, you leave out that he went down on you for hours and you definitely leave out the part about waking up against him and falling back asleep.
“He took really good care of me,” you finish up honestly. “I thought he was gonna be a jerk but he was great.”
“Really?” Jennifer almost beaming, like she’s proud she was right about him all along.
“Yeah, I was really scared and he was really patient that night.”
“See? I told you there was something to him.”
“I guess,” you shrug. “I think it was a storm thing though. He’s gone back to being an asshole so I wouldn’t hold my hopes up.”
“Did he mention me by any chance?”
You think of how to frame this. Yeah, Joel did mention Jennifer but none of his comments were particularly flattering. But when you recall how he looked at her coming back you think it might have been to cover up his feelings. He doesn’t seem like someone who can come out and express how he feels properly.
“Yeah, actually. You came up a few times.”
Jennifer giggles to herself and you know she wants to ask more about this but you’re tired and yawning and not long after she insists you go to sleep.
Your bed has never felt more comfortable but sleep takes its time coming to you. It keeps replaying the night before; the way Joel’s dark eyes reflected the fire, the strength of his hands on your body, his tongue between your legs.
You wish your mind didn’t keep going back to last night because all you can focus on is that Joel made you come, asked for nothing in return and then in the morning made it seem like nothing happened. Then as soon as you entered inside Jackson City he made it seem like he was furious with you.
The way he acted makes you wonder if you'd imagined all his kindness and his soft touches. But no, you can still feel the sensation of his tongue between your folds, his calloused hands on your thighs, the husky groan ordering you to come. You can't stop thinking about it, actually.
It’s there lulling you to sleep, a warmth simmering in your belly.
///
You sleep in the next day, well past the breakfast hour. You don’t mind though, Jennifer had you stuffed with food up until she left at midnight telling you she could stay if you needed her to. You’re still not used to this kind of friendship, still wary that it seems too good to be true.
A glance out the window shows that some snow has fallen since yesterday, but nothing too much. Outside your street is barely touched, the sun shining gently on the earth’s creation.
You get dressed quickly, padding yourself with extra warm clothes, your red scarf and your jacket. You pull on your boots dried by the previous day’s fire and you step into the chilly mid-morning.
You like to go to the quiet parts of Jackson for your walks, enjoying the solitude. It’s in the outer part of Jackson without being in the forest, a place you never venture to. It’s an abandoned neighborhood with old houses, fencing and more.
A sharp bark is at your back and you turn to see the familiar panting dog clumsily making his way over to you through the snow.
“Hey Buckley,” you coo when he gets close enough.
Buckley is a famous figure that roams Jackson City, a dog that belongs to everyone in a way. You think you heard someone say he was a border collie mixed with something else. He’s not always in town, often he’s found by the hydroelectric dam when he’s not snoozing at Gustavo’s feet listening to the banjo.
“You being a good boy?” you muse, scratching the back of his ear when he cocks his head.
He’s a friendly dog, rarely without his prized tennis ball. He doesn’t have it with him now, and you assume he’s lost it in the snow. You shake your head at him with a soft huffing laugh.
“You wanna join me on my walk?”
Sometimes it strange to walk through the underdeveloped parts of Jackson City. The ones with power lines that poke out like jagged tombstones. The asphalt that’s cracks when you walk on it during the hot months. But you come to stand before one of your favorite buildings, the ranch, smiling as the gentle breeze turns your cheeks pink. Buckley follows at your heels, the two of you slowed down by the snow.
You avoid the forest for obvious reasons, but you enjoy walking by the old ranch because it reminds you of the kind of place you read about in books. You think that it would be nice to live in it one day. You found it once during one of your morning walks when you first arrived at Jackson City, and it’s been a sort of touchstone for you ever since.
You walk up its creaking porch steps, your fingers touching the porch swing. You can imagine it spruced up, drinking lemonade while you watch the sunset. It’s a nice fantasy, but it will remain just that. You have no building skills, you are a single occupant and you imagine when Jackson City gets big enough they’ll reserve this place for a big family or turn it into something vital.
You walk inside, immediately at ease with the gold sun of the morning that filters in through the grimy windows. The entire place is built with that warm, honey-colored wood. Threadbare carpets litter the spaces, old furniture still standing. Buckley remains outside, keeping watch as is his prerogative. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him inside anywhere.
You move over the creaking floors, taking in the dusty floors before you touch the sails of the decorate boat resting on the mantle above the hearth, a little tradition of yours. Moth-eaten curtains hang like sad bits of hair over the windows, and you gasp a little when a rat skitters by in the dining room, going to hide in one of the old cabinets. With all the cold weather they are urged indoors and you have no desire to hurt them; that’s Buckley’s job.
You’re about to head upstairs when something in the next room stops you. The kitchen area creaks with the unmistakable sound of slow, heavy footsteps. Immediately you straighten, hands going for a gun that you’re not carrying.
Fuck.
What are you gonna do? Panic threatens to seize you until a voice; low and husky is there at your ear, quelling your heartbeat.
You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon. A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.
Your eyes go wide, taking in the mantle behind you once more. The candlesticks aren’t that heavy, the sailboat decorative. There are some books in the next room but you’ll be seen. Then your eyes drift down to the hearth and you feel relief when you see the fire implements there. You grab the poker, sure not to upset the other brass items into clanging.
The footsteps are continuing getting closer and you force yourself to remember what Jennifer has been teaching you: slow your breathing, focus, think of something that takes you to that quiet place.
Homemade pies.
Lavender soap.
Sunlight on a summer morning.
Joel’s eyes.
Before you can consider this train of thought a figure suddenly makes their way around the corner of the room, looking curiously at their surroundings. You raise the poker above your head, charging at them with a furious shriek.
The man jumps back from you, watery pale eyes bulging out of his ruddy skull. He falls backwards onto the ground, holding a hand up to shield his face as you prepare to bring the poker down on his head.
“Please! Please! I live here! Please don’t hurt me!”
Something in the frantic way he yelps stills your motions, your breathing ragged as adrenaline courses through you. You lower the poker to your side, still not releasing it entirely.
He’s short and portly and he doesn’t look particularly frightening lying there quivering on the ground.
“You don’t live here,” you tell him sharply. “This place is empty.”
“I meant I live here in the community,” the man squeaks. He can’t be younger than sixty. “Well, in a sense. I-I mean, we just got here y-yesterday. I was just looking for the soap maker; I was told she’s nearby?”
You don’t sense any real danger from this man and now you step forward, holding a hand out to him. He winces at first, thinking you mean to hit him. Then he realizes you’re not threatening him and he takes your hand gingerly.
“I’m sorry,” the man says with his voice wobbling as you pull him to a stand. “I didn’t mean to startle.”
“It’s fine. I’ve just never run into anyone here. Raiders have been seen nearby and it’s a bit high tension around lately,” you explain.
“Oh I see,” the man nods. “That explains the welcome.”
You can’t help but laugh softly at that.
“I'm Arthur," the man says shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.
Normally you would keep to yourself, but today feels different. You feel different. It prompts you to keep your face pointed to the pale man.
"You said you were new to Jackson?"
"Wife and I just arrived last night," Arthur says with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. "I'm still getting my bearings. She was so excited to have running water so I was looking for soap. Someone in town told me there’s a soap maker in this direction."
“I’ll show you the way,” you say, placing the fire poker back with the other instruments beside the hearth.
“Really?”
“Sure. Follow me.”
The two of you walk into the chill of the day, Buckley standing to attention when the two of you exit. You introduce Arthur to the dog and the two of you start on your journey. Arthur is a slow walker, especially in the snow, so it takes a bit longer than you normally would.
But strangely you don’t mind. You think you might be feeling powerful from earlier; you knew what to do in a time of panic. It makes you smile, your entire disposition cheerful as Arthur talks on next to you.
“I’d like to find some work as soon as possible.”
"Of course," you nod. "You have any experience in anything?"
"Not unless someone wants their portrait done," Arthur says with a smile that shows his crowded incisors. "Back in the QZ I did some teaching. Art classes and the like."
"They could always use someone like that here," you reason.
"You think?"
"I'm sure of it. Maybe at the school? What does your wife do?"
"Penny was in the business sector before the outbreak. In the QZ she did more manual positions, disposal that sort of thing. Do you think you could find her work in something similar here?"
"Oh, I'm not in charge if that sort of stuff," you smile. "But I know who is. I'll see her this week and tell her you're eager to help out. Can I get your address?"
They live at 64 Pine and while Arthur is more of the creative type, he and his wife both have experience with cooking as well. You make a note of this for when you see Maria later this week.
Normally Maria would be on top of this sort of thing. Before Douglas' she always gave the tour's to newcomers, always had them sorted with a job before the end of their first week. But now she's distracted and subsequently Tommy is too.
People like to give, she told you that first week. Makes them feel like they’re part of something.
You and Arthur chat companionably with Buckley trailing at your ankles through the snow. Arthur and his wife have been together for thirty five years, and they’ve made it from the Virginia QZ.
“Things were just too hairy over there,” Arthur says with a shake of his head. “Me and Penny figured we couldn’t keep living like that. We heard about Jackson City through an old CB a friend had. Seemed too good to be true.”
“I get that,” you nod. “The first month I was here I barely left my house. I was convinced my place would be given away the second I walked out the door.”
“The beds!” Arthur says with a dramatic emphasis on the words. “And those clean sheets? Everything is just so. . .Fresh.”
You’re at the soap maker’s home now and while it’s still early, you can hear Hannah rustling about inside. You know if you stay she’ll insist on having you in for coffee and you feel as if your social battery is already at its limit.
“This is where I’ll leave you,” you say indicating to the home ahead. “Inside is Hannah and Herb, they’ll set you up with some soap for you and your wife.”
“Thanks so much,” Arthur says pumping your hand in his.
“Can you make it back okay on your own?”
“I’m sure.”
You smile, about to turn and head back home when something stops you. You twist around, calling after Arthur who raises his brows.
“Do you ever draw portraits?”
“Of course,” Arthur nods.
“I mean, of people you don’t know,” you say, squinting as you try to recall the term. “Kinda like sketch artists did for the police back before?”
“I can’t say it’s a specialty, but I love a challenge,” Arthur says with a little skip to his step. “And considering you were kind enough to show me here I’d love to do it for you.”
“Thanks,” you say, feeling shy. “I might just take you up on it.”
///
You’re surprised to see Maria knocking on your door later that afternoon. She’s got a sleeping Douglas strapped to her chest with a sling and she’s carrying a pie in one hand.
“I would have been here the second you got back but I only heard from Tommy what was going on late last night,” she says when you invite her in.
“No problem,” you insist warmly. “I think he was doing it to save you some stress.”
“Yeah well he got an earful,” she says with a frown. “How could he not tell me my friend was missing during a storm?”
Friend. Another friend. An embarrassment of riches. You try to tamp down the pleased smile that bleeds across your face and instead give a gentle rub to Douglas’ head, giggling as he grunts and scrunches his nose.
You tell Maria about Arthur and Penny and she nods as she feeds Douglas.
"Yep, 64 Pine. I just sent them over a welcome basket and Tommy's gone there to give 'em jobs."
"Great," you smile. Your eyes go to the gently babbling Douglas in Maria's arms. “How does he get cuter every day?”
“Must be a Miller thing,” she says laughing. “I saw a picture of Sarah once and she was so adorable.”
This intrigues you to the point of distraction.
“You saw a picture of Sarah?”
Very few people had photos or memorabilia from their homes that survived Outbreak Day. You don’t know anyone personally who has photos of their family.
“Yeah, Tommy went back to Texas a while back. Got some stuff from his old place and he found a photo of Sarah to bring back.”
“Joel must have been so happy.”
“He didn’t take it,” Maria shrugs. “Think it was too hard for him.”
You fall silent for a moment, your irritation with Joel waning. It’s hard to be angry at him after everything that happened. You sometimes forget that he had a life before, that he had a daughter he’ll never see again. Despite your animosity for how he treated you earlier, you’re not devoid of compassion.
You just wish you could understand him.
You’re still pondering this hours after Maria has left when there’s a knock at your door. It creaks open when you call out to come in and a familiar set of light eyes greet you. Luke grins at you expectantly.
“You still up for shooting?”
“Oh shit, I forgot,” you place your teacup in the sink and hurriedly pull on your scarf and jacket.
“We don’t have to,” Luke starts. “Jenny can’t make it, but I thought it’d be good for us to get the practice.”
You flush happily at the thought of being alone with Luke. You enjoy being with him, it’s easy and uncomplicated.
You follow him down the street heading to the outskirts of the city, both of you armed with guns borrowed from Jennifer.
"So Jennifer isn’t going to shoot today?" You ask curiously.
"Nah she said something about running behind in textiles. Dunno what exactly,” Luke shrugs, before smiling back at you. “You going to the town meeting Wednesday?”
Town meetings have been going on since Jackson City was founded. A place to bring up impactful town business, updates, celebrations and more. You've only been to one, finding it pretty dull for the most part. But as you become more a part of the community you find you want to know more of what goes on around you.
"Yeah I think I will."
The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm that afternoon and you’re surprised at how easily the conversation flows even without Jenny there. Luke is funny and sweet and when you shoot your first can he’s right there to lift you into his arms and spin you around.
“That was amazing!”
“I can’t believe it!” you say, pink-cheeked and delighted.
You’re still on a high when you head back into town an hour or so later, chatting animatedly about how your shooting is actually improving thanks to Jennifer. You wish she had been there to see it today.
“Not just one can, but four,” Luke whistles in amazement as you both make your way to the center of town. “And I could only got one.”
“But it was really far away so it counts as two,” you insist with a giggle. Luke grins down at you, pulling you into a companionable side hug.
“You’re too kind.”
Your entire body lights up with the contact of Luke's arm around you. You’re about to say something more when a gruff voice sounds out from behind you.
“You sign those guns out?”
You and Luke spin to face the speaker.
Joel.
He’s standing there, leather coat done up looking intimidating. His dark eyes are going to where Luke holds you around the shoulder.
Instinctively you take a half step away from Luke, feeling strangely wrong-footed at having his arm around you, as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.
Luke is busy looking at Joel in confusion. “Huh?”
“The guns you’re carryin’,” Joel says sharply, tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth as he appraises the both of you, taking a step closer. “They gotta be signed out if you’re practicin’. Need to keep track of ‘em for safety.”
Everyone who comes to Jackson City knows this, it’s taught during your welcome. Public weapons used for patrols need to be signed out from the armory, the ammo is doled out in specific numerations to keep the city stocked and prepared.
“They’re Jenny’s,” Luke explains patiently. “From her own collection. She lends them to us for practice.”
“Ammo too?”
“Yep.”
Joel makes a grunting noise in Luke’s direction, but his eyes don’t leave your face. You feel your cheeks prickling with embarrassment at being talked down to. And for what reason? Why is Joel being such an asshole this week?
“Is that all, Joel?” you challenge, feeling your hackles rising.
Joel frowns at you, jaw ticking and then without a word he strides past you and Luke, ducking into one of the shops that line the main street. You watch him leave, stiff-shouldered and long-legged and you shake your head.
“Man that guy is such an asshole,” Luke murmurs to you as the two of you continue your walk towards the other shops. “What’s his problem?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
///
Midweek one early morning you decide to pay a visit to Chestnut with a contraband carrot. You’ve been worrying about him since you returned from that overnight patrol shift, but your visit shows he’s no worse for wear. He clops over to you and cheerfully takes the carrot as you pet him.
There's something comforting about the scent of hay in the paddock, of Chestnut's glossy eyes and the strength of his ribs under your palm. Something that grounds you when you're here alone, listening to the strangely relaxing sound of him munching on his carrot. You've broken it in half, concerned that you might upset his diet.
He deserves it after all he went through last week.
You feel eyes on you and you glance over your shoulder to see Midnight circling around his paddock. Chestnut continues to snack away on his carrot piece, not even acknowledging when you drift over to Midnight.
"Hi, boy."
You take the other half of the carrot and move closer to where Midnight stares balefully out at you from the corner of his paddock. He watches you with widened eyes, making a huffing noise as you near, hand outstretched with the carrot half resting in the center of your palm.
Midnight's known you for months, but he still treats you like a stranger to be wary of. For a moment you wonder what his story is.
"Here you go," you coo, balancing on the fencing separating the two horses. "You deserve a treat too."
The glossy black head swings slowly, the scent catching him and it's not long before he begins inching towards you.
With a soft smile on your lips you hold your palm flat and feel the velvet brush of his mouth as he takes the carrot piece. You feel victorious by this minute surrender and smile toothily at the creature. You think about stroking his mane but decide you'd best not push your luck.
You turn when you hear your name being called and you're delighted to see its Ellie. She comes jogging towards you, looking as if she's getting ready to go to school.
"Hey, I haven't seen you in the dining hall lately," you greet as she comes your way.
"Nah, wanted to hang out with Joel this week," she explains and you hold in the urge to make a sympathetic face. You know his disappearance must have rattled her.
She looks at Midnight relaxing in his paddock and stretches out her fingers in his direction. You watch in quiet amazement as the creature ambles over to her, allowing her to start petting his twitching side. Ellie sure has a knack for taming the untamable.
"You like horses?" you ask Ellie, watching as the girl pets Chestnut’s ears.
“Yeah, I can ride too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, sorta. Winston this soldier back in the zone gave me lessons.” She glances up at you. “How do you know how to ride?”
“When I was really little my parents got me riding lessons. I loved it, kept going with it. Did some competitions. I was still riding up until Outbreak Day.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.” Ellie gnaws at her chapped lower lip, scratching absently at her covered arm. She looks like she’s trying to summon up the courage for something and then you both speak at once.
“Are you okay?-“
“-You wanna come over on Thursday night?”
You pause, her words hitting you belatedly.
“Where? To your place?”
“Yeah,” Ellie nods. She smiles at Chestnut, her eyes disappearing when she does. “For a special dinner.”
You and Joel Miller together in the same house again? After he’s been such a colossal asshole to you for no reason this week?
Not a chance.
“We could do dinner at my place,” you suggest airily. “I could make us something special.”
“Nah, I wanna do it at mine. On Thursday. I’ll make us all something really special.” She looks nervously at you. “Could you bring dessert?”
The request makes you huff a laugh. “Like what?”
“A cake?”
You grin as you watch her pet Chesnut, but you don’t reply. Thoughts of being in Joel’s home don’t really fill you with ease or cheer. She pauses when she sees your hesitation.
“Joel wanted me to ask you to come.”
This gives you pause and your brows rise to your hairline.
“Joel invited me to have dinner with you both?”
“Yeah,” Ellie nods resolutely. “You know Joel. He’s a grumpy asshole and he’s shit at communicating. But he told me to invite you, so can you make it?”
Is it possible that this is Joel extending an olive branch? Maybe he feels bad knowing how bizarrely he’s treated you this week. Maybe he’ll even explain why he’s suddenly been so frosty.
You consider this, eyes stuck on Chestnut’s mane as your fingers twirl in it. You can feel Ellie’s hopeful expression facing you and so you sigh quietly before flashing her a tentative smile.
“Chocolate cake okay?”
///
Town meetings take place inside the old church at the edge of town. The chapel itself is filled with creaking pews and tall stained glass windows.
People use it on Sundays, those that still believe in something in this empty world. You don't attend; you stopped believing a long time ago. During town meetings though the religious iconography is removed and placed off to the side.
Down the steps is the large recreation space used for dances and parties and the like. You've never gone to any, finding the idea too intimating since you didn't know anyone. The space is mostly filled, as all town meetings are. It's recommended that one person from each family attend to keep appraised of what's happening in the community.
This evening you and Jennifer slip into the end of a pew near the back, the back of your knees braced against the chilled wood.
"Oh there's Luke," Jennifer whispers, hitting your shoulder with hers gently. "Must've come with the guys."
You follow her eye line to see Luke sitting with some of the guys you recognize from breakfasts with Jennifer. He's laughing with them, chatting casually. He looks handsome tonight, his hair brushed back and his muscled arms crossed over his chest. You can't help but notice the way his mouth curves, looking so inviting.
You surprise yourself with how attracted you are to him this evening. You can't explain it, but you wish his hands were on you. Wish he was taking you to bed.
You worry that Joel's actions the other night have opened something in you, something that craves a man between your legs, a tongue tracing the buds of your nipples, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh.
You squirm slightly in your seat before focusing your attention elsewhere when a flash of red hair catches your eyes and you stand, making your way across the aisle.
“Hi Arthur," you greet with a smile. He's sitting with a tall woman with very red hair and is covered in tattoos. Delicate black lined things that wrap around her one arm and across her neck. She's like walking artwork that you can't stop staring at.
"Oh it’s you!” Arthur beams up at you from where he sits. “This is my wife Penny I was telling you about."
The woman turns her bulging eyes at you, yellowed at the corners. She smiles and gives you a crooked smile.
"Pleased to meet you," she says with a sharp drawl. "My husband says you’re to thank for the soap?”
“No no,” you laugh. “I just showed him where to find it.”
“And she didn’t bludgeon me even when she had the chance,” Arthur adds. The three of you chuckle together and you can’t help but watch the images on Penny’s lean neck jump when she laughs.
"Those tattoos are beautiful," you tell her, momentarily hypnotized.
"Arthur did them for me back in the QZ," Penny says with a shy grin. "Stick and poke if you can believe it. Self taught."
"Really? That's really impressive, Arthur."
Arthur ducks his head, looking momentarily shy. He pushes his glasses up his long nose bashfully.
"He makes everything he touches pretty," Penny says proudly. "S'the thing I love most about him."
"That's such a beautiful idea," you say without thinking. You bid them farewell before taking your seat next to Jennifer who’s deep in conversation with one of the women you’ve seen in the dining hall.
You scan the chapel and see that Maria sits in the front row, her baby strapped to her front. People talk to her but she looks strangely overwhelmed. Maria has never been like that, always been strong and confident. You try to catch her eye, to give her a reassuring smile but she doesn't turn in your direction.
Tommy pushes into the chapel by eight and ambles to the front of the room. He gives Maria a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before stepping behind the podium and waving at the gathered collective. When they see him the voices dim and he shoots a grateful look at the crowd.
"Hi y'all, thanks for comin' out on this cold night when I know you’d rather be at the Bison." He pauses as light chuckles fill the room. "We got a few things happenin' this month and I wanted y'all to be aware."
There's a shuffling behind you, a scrape of boot against wood grain. The pew creaks gently as a figure is seated down, his very presence setting your pulse skyrocketing.
Joel.
You'd know it just by the cadence of his walk; that light drag at the end of each step. The scent of leather from his jacket and almond from the soap he uses. The way the air seems to warm and grow heavy where he sits.
A part of you wants to turn your head, to confirm it's who you think. But the other wants nothing more than for Joel to stay away until the dinner with Ellie. After the way he's been treating you this week you don't want to be anywhere near him and his volatility without her as a buffer.
You feel the ends of your hair catch against the pew and you shift, running your hand absently through your crown to loosen it as you turn your focus back to Tommy at the front of the chapel.
"Well to start us off, we got some new blood here tonight and I wanna introduce 'em," Tommy says giving a small smile to the left side of the room. "This is Arthur and Penny. They come from Virginia. They're gonna be helping out in the school and with sanitation. Welcome to Jackson city."
Arthur and Penny stand up in their pew. The two of them give shy waves as the group claps, some calling out well wishes of welcome as Arthur goes pink in the cheeks.
"They're the sweetest couple," you comment.
"I love her tattoos," Jennifer replies as she claps. "So beautiful."
The couple sits and the clapping ebbs. Tommy looks down at his piece of paper of notes hurriedly scrawled.
"Now I'm gonna turn things over to Jacob Linden," he says before stepping down from the podium and taking his place next to Maria. You watch as his arm goes around her, holding her to him.
Jacob Linden is a sweet man of about sixty with narrow grey eyes and pale blonde hair. He always wears blue jeans and a sweater, even in the heat of the summer.
His partner passed years before he got to Jackson City and he wears a small locket with his photograph in it to remember him. He touches it now, a little nervously as he steps up to the podium.
"One of the ideas I've been kicking around is having a bi-weekly music night," the man says almost shyly as he looks around at all the faces. "A time for the town to come gather and listen to people play. Maybe in the dining hall after meals?"
There's murmurs of interest around the room. You and Jennifer exchange smiles at the idea, knowing very well that you'll attend. Jennifer is always going on about how there's nothing to do in the evenings in town except drink.
"I'm wondering if there are any musicians who'd like to join in?" Jacob asks tentatively. "We'll take turns deciding what tunes to play and you'll have all the coffee and tea you can drink."
You're surprised when amongst a few others, Luke shoots his hand up. Jennifer must be taken aback as well because she leans over to you, her voice warm in your ear.
"I didn't know he played."
"Me neither."
"Shhhh."
You both flinch at the volume of Joel's shushing. Several nearby people glance over their shoulders in your direction and you feel your cheeks pink. Jennifer shoots you an admonished look and you hold in your eye roll to the best of your abilities before turning your attention back to Tommy at the front of the church.
"Now, next up, I'm sure you've heard the rumors of Raiders up on the patrol routes."
Gentle whispers move around the room like hissing campfires being extinguished.
"So I need y'all to be even more vigilant than usual," Tommy explains. "That means you see anything and I mean anything strange, you come and tell me or Maria, Hank or Joel. And you can spread that around."
You hear him shift on the bench behind you. It's like your ears are so attuned to him that even as Tommy goes over the safety procedures all you can focus on is the shift of Joel's weight in the pew, the scrape of his boots on the ground, the rough way he clears his throat.
You don't know why but you're pissed off. Maybe you're anxious about the raiders, nervous about patrols tomorrow, whatever it is, you feel like a bow pulled extremely taut and Joel’s presence plucks irritatingly at the string.
"Do you think Luke wants to grab a drink after this?" Jennifer breaks into your thoughts, head tilted towards your shoulder. “I wanna ask him about his playing.”
“Me too, I was-”
Before you can say anything more you hear Joel give that same annoying noise and it feels like it's aimed directly into the back of your head.
"Shhhh."
For some reason this is your limit. The grating sound has you twisting around in your seat and fixing him with a glare. He sits with his face arranged in a look of casual indifference; you only know that he's paying attention to you by the steady gaze of his dark eyes.
"If you can't hear, sit closer next time," you hiss. "Not our fault you're half deaf."
You don't miss the sharp intake of breath from Jennifer or the narrowing of Joel’s gaze on your face.
Before he can say anything back to you, you slide from the pew towards the back of the church. You need a minute to calm down because irritation is boiling your blood. You know you’re going to say something rude if you stick around.
You give polite smiles at the few people you pass on your way out, your feet taking you to where it's quiet in the alcove. You think this is where they must have prepared communion or something similar, but now it just houses extra chairs and tables. The window is barely seen over the dented wood tables with their rusty metal legs.
You close the door after you, trying to quell the furious beating of your heart.
What the fuck is his problem? Is he so regretful of what happened that night that he’s doubling down on being a prick? And why the fuck is he having you over for dinner if he obviously despises everything you do?
There's a scrape of feet behind you and the air attains that same heavy, warm feeling. You turn, not surprised to see a furious looking Joel closing the door behind him. His lips are twisted into a thin curve of displeasure.
Fuck this.
You go to walk by him when he jerks out an arm, slapping his palm against the wall in front of you and effectively cutting you off from your exit. He stares you down as he cranes his neck towards you, forcing you to keep his gaze.
"Where do you get off talkin' to me like that?" Joel says between gritted teeth. He looms over you, everything about him saying submit. And normally this would work, normally you would cower but tonight you're at your limit.
"I'll talk to you any damn way I want," you say, cheeks a blotchy red.
“You sure fuckin’ won’t.”
“I sure fucking will,” you snap back, keeping your voice low enough not to carry into the chapel.
Joel gets up in your face, his nose practically touching yours.
"If you wanna run your goddam mouth, I'm gonna fill it."
It flies out of Joel’s mouth before he's had time to realize what he's said. He regrets it the minute it hits the air. It's there in the telltale opening of his lids just a fraction too wide, is in the pink crawling up his neck.
But you’re completely over it, over Joel, over the entire situation. He makes you cum how many times? Let’s you open up to him? And now he’s acting as if you’ve done him a cruelty?
Fuck him.
"With what, Joel? Your cock?”
Joel’s eyes fly open wide.
“I don't want anything to do with you or your cock ever again," you bite off. "You're selfish and arrogant-"
"Enough."
Joel’s jaw is ticking something worrisome, his hands in loose fists at his sides. But he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. He’s just a man like all the rest of them.
"What?” You sneer broadly. “Worried you can only keep it up if the woman’s on her knees doing all the work or half asleep, Joel?”
"Shut the fuck up."
You've never spoken to anyone like this in your entire life, but letting Joel have it right here in this moment feels good.
No, it feels better than good, it feels amazing.
Years of repressed anger and frustration are bubbling to surface and you feel heady, almost powerful from it. It feels better than sex or lust or forgiveness. It flows freely from you like a song, brutally cutting notes that slice into Joel and he winces.
"It's the truth," you laugh cruelly. "I mean when's the last time you fucked properly without having t-"
You break off as Joel's hands slap on either side of the striped wallpaper beside your arms, coming to box you in against the wall. His face is so thunderous that any laughter in your expression withers away like fruit on a vine.
There’s the sound of muffled laughter outside of the room in the chapel. Tommy is charming the audience, but all you can focus on is the man in front of you. Of his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Of his steely gaze and wide palms as one slides off the wall and comes to grip your hip.
And before you can properly think, Joel is crowding you against the wall, his pelvis pressing harshly into yours. You stare up at him, body trembling but you’re concerned because it’s not in fear.
Your nipples tighten, your pupils blow wide and all you can focus on is the heavy bulge that he presses between your thighs.
“You think I can’t make you come like a little slut for me right here and now?”
Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, his gaze on your mouth before flicking to meet your eyes. He continues to pin you there, mouth slightly ajar as he begins to unbutton your jeans, his dark eyes never leaving yours.
His fingers rest on the zipper, pausing only to watch your expression. When moments pass you realize he's waiting for you to tell him to stop, trying to call your bluff. But instead you tilt your head back in silent challenge.
You'd expected fury in the face of your combative non-verbal reply but are met with something altogether different from Joel.
Lust.
You see only a flicker of it in Joel's gaze, the darkening of his eyes before his face lowers to yours. His fingers lower the zipper of your jeans and now your bravado leaves you as you tilt away from him, your eyes fluttering. You feel his warm breath on the side of your face, slow and heavy. He waits there, fingers stilled on the zipper’s tongue.
You don’t move, your cheeks flaming as you realize what’s about to happen. You don’t know how to act or what to do.
“Why you actin' all shy now?" Joel mocks against your earlobe. "You think I didn't hear you in the bathroom playin' with yourself all those times on patrol? Think I don’t know how bad you wanna come right now?"
Your face feels so hot you feel it would sizzle if a droplet of water landed on it. Joel has known all this time? Every time you thought you were had privacy he's known? Has likely heard the whimpering cries you give out when you climax. For all you knew he could have been standing outside the door listening. Why does that thought make your stomach swoop?
"I don't-" you start but the words are sticky on your tongue.
But now the zipper is lowered and his fingers move swiftly down the front of your panties, hitting the slick of your cunt almost immediately and curling. You give a huff of surprise, finding your thighs widening without thought to take more of him. He slides his fingers to the knuckle, groaning when he sees it’s making your eyelids flutter.
"Maybe I don't have to try that hard after all," Joel croons. "Looks like you've been waiting for me."
“Have not,” you deny weakly, jaw clenched and glare fixed on your face.
“Then I should stop,” Joel mocks as his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of your squelching cunt. “Right?”
You say nothing, finding it near impossible not to touch him. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, fingertips leaving half-moon crescents in his skin through the fabric. Your face is buried in his neck, trying to stifle your moans.
You feel Joel’s smug smile against your temple as his thick finger curl within your velvet slot, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his pumps. He groans softly when you arch back, hand at his collar for purchase.
“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Joel chants, his warm breath buffeting your face.
He tilts his head, tongue going to the side of his mouth in thought. You wonder what he sees when he stares down at you, pink cheeks and glassy eyes? The sheer desperation in your glazed expression? You feel your release being coaxed forth, sweet and syrupy but something holds you back.
You feel that ripple of pleasure begin but you nervously tense everywhere and Joel’s face flies towards yours.
"I know what you feel like when you're close," Joel rasps, his full lips crushed against your ear, breath hot. "Don't fight it."
You feel your pulse ticking wildly in your neck and you wonder if Joel can sense it. But you need something from him, something that you didn’t realize. You turn your gaze to his, imploring.
"Tell me to come," you whisper, hips rutting against his hand. "Please Joel, tell m-me-"
You break off with a sharp gasp and his wide hand immediately goes to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds from escaping into the chapel while the other works between your legs in that same steady way.
"You're gonna come for me," Joel rasps against your ear. "Right here, with the whole town on the other side of this wall."
Your eyes roll back in your head at the command, pleasure flooding you everywhere. Joel's fingers are sliding in and out of you, curling to hit that sweet hidden spot your own fingers just can't reach, thumb rubbing your clit.
"You're gonna come on my fingers right here," he continues, breath hot in your ear when he sees your reaction. "Cuz I said so."
You can't speak since his hand is still sealed over your mouth but you can nod shallowly, hips rolling as you begin to climb that pleasured peak that has your body tensing. He feels it, his dark eyes moving from your face to where his fingers enter you over and over, curling and coaxing.
Your hands fist in his flannel when you feel that white stripe of pleasure overtake you. And despite how inappropriate this is you feel yourself falling off the edge.
"Go on then," Joel groans huskily. "Be a good girl and do it."
At those words all that tension that's been building in your lower belly suddenly releases, sending you jerking against Joel, gasping against his palm.
"Mhm," Joel murmurs approvingly. His praise sets you off, your next orgasm overtaking the first, bleeding into one another and your legs tremble. He holds you in place with his hips, his fingers moving slickly between your thighs.
Joel's broad hand moves from your mouth to cradle the back of your head, forcing your mouth press against the skin of his neck, muffling your cries. You continue to twitch, your whimpers seeping into his skin like ink on paper.
"Uh huh, just like that," Joel murmurs, his fingers keeping their steady pace as your pelvis ruts against his hand faster and faster. "Just like that.”
Just like that. Just like that.
Nothing else exists except for his voice and your pleasure. Not the townspeople, not the warning of Raiders that set you off, not the fear of the unknown. Just Joel's warm, steady voice telling you to come.
“I know you can gimme another one.”
Just like that night of the snow in, he consumes you leaving you whimpering his name into his neck, fingers gripping his flannel for dear life as he coaxes your next orgasm from you.
"Give it to me," he demands, groaning as you arch into him. "S’mine."
Your entire body tenses at that husky order and your release comes over you in waves. Your eyes roll back, and you cry out, your mouth sealed against Joel’s taut neck. You can hear him far away, murmuring that’s right and good fuckin’ girl.
You feel your pussy pulse around his fingers, milking them. Arousal drips down his wrist, his fingers not ceasing their steady continuous rhythm until you give one final shake, exhaling heavily against his palm.
Finally you go limp and his fingers slow and finally slide from between your legs. You realize that you're still fisting his flannel, your mouth still open against his warm neck. You raise your head, eyes heavy and glazed. You do it just in time to see Joel slide the fingers coated in your glossy arousal between his lips and suck, his eyes fluttering closed.
Your knees buckle.
He catches you, a flash of amusement in his honeyed voice.
"Steady," he mutters against your cheek. "Steady."
You stare up at him, your breathing still deep and uneven as he holds you against him. You tilt your head back slightly so you can better view him. Joel looks completely fucked out, cheeks flushed, his dark curls falling into his eyes that sweep your face, lingering on your parted lips. Like magnets you feel as he drifts towards you, his mouth so close to yours you can feel the warmth of his breath on your tongue.
Suddenly the sound of creaking pews, chatter and footsteps sound out.
The meeting is over.
Joel's hands immediately fly from your body at the sound and he steps back, straightening to his full height. The darkness is back in his eyes and that displeased countenance he wears like a mask firmly settles over his features.
“Don’t wanna keep you from gettin’ drinks with your boyfriend,” he rumbles darkly.
He strides away from you quickly, his boots scuffing along the floorboards until he's outside the room, the door closing behind him with a snick. You assume he’s rejoined the rest of the group as they exit to avoid suspicion, but you can’t do the same because your legs feel like rubber.
You stay leaning against the wall, face flushed and pulse ticking. Your breathing is shaky as you look around the room, the same and yet changed.
What the fuck just happened?
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#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller smut#smut#fanfiction#fanfic#pedro pascal#dad joel miller#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel miller#dark!joel#so much to lose#slow burn
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bottom rafe bottom rafe bottom rafe bottom rafe bottom rafe bottom-
summary: reader is overstimulating Rafe, basically porn without plot
warnings: handjob, oral (male receiving), praise kink, p in v (unprotected)
word count: 873
author's note: I'm so sorry that it took me so long to write this 😭😭😭 I just woke up and got the urge for it idk. I hope you like it tho.
“You're being so good to me,” you coo and bat your lashes at the boy underneath you. You'd’ve never imagined that of all people, Rafe would be a bottom but the way he is babbling incoherently is making your arousal puddle in your tiny panties.
“Can't do no more- oh god-” he pants as you keep on jerking him off and approaching his third orgasm that night.
“You can give me one more, baby,” you pout before leaning down to kiss his pink tip, tasting the cum from his previous releases. Your tongue remains there, licking and slightly pressing against his slit until you hear his head fall back into the pillows and long white spurts of his cum land on your face, but mostly inside your mouth.
Rafe is panting and even if you wanted to give in, you promised him to not do it. You promised to only stop once he's done to your liking, or if he utters the safe word, but you know he won't do that because he always has the need to prove himself to you.
“No more, please,” he begs, and you smile up at him, your hand is still wrapped around his length, softly squeezing and slowly pumping.
You give him a sweet and innocent smile, “but, baby, you said, until your balls are empty.” You cup his balls with your free hand, rolling them in your fingers and squeezing just enough to hear him whimper. “These don't feel empty to me, yet.”
“Just one, please,” Rafe babbles and you purse your lips.
“We'll see about that.” There's a spark in your eyes, one that he doesn't miss, and it nearly makes him cum again. He's completely overstimulated and tired, and sore, which he had never imagined possible.
And when your head dives down to lick a stride up his massive cock, he can't help but moan. He's fully at your mercy, and you love every single second of it. Teasing his tip with your tongue, sucking on it as if it was a popsicle before taking him fully. Letting him hit the back of your throat a few times, making him curse and whine with it.
“Y/n, I'm gonna- please,” Rafe is almost pleading, but he would be dumb to say the one word that would make you stop. Especially when you start to take him even deeper, deep throating him until your nose presses against his pelvis. This is what he trained you for, and it's the best gift you could've given him.
You slither your tongue along the base of his cock as you bop your head, and you can't stop your hips from grinding on his leg, desperately seeking your own release.
It doesn't take much longer for Rafe to cum, his dick twitching inside your mouth and your eyes fixed on him. His face contorts with pleasure, his abs flex and his legs tremble beneath you as he fills your throat with his hot seed.
But you don't even think about stopping. Swallowing hard around him, you keep on sucking him off, taking every last drop of his cum from him before letting your teeth lightly grace over him as you pull him out of you.
“Look at you, all fucked out,” you tease him and softly slap his dick against your cheek.
“Can't- please, baby,” he mumbles, but you know he can, and you know he will.
“Promise, just one more,” you say and sit up. “I feel so very empty, baby,” you coo and he mewls a little but nods. You get up and free yourself of the tiny piece of fabric that had stopped you from fucking him before.
A loud moan escapes the both of you when you sink down on his semi. You love having Rafe under you, to be able to control him completely. But you love it even more to feel him get hard inside you, the way his dick twitches and the low whimpers that fall from his pretty lips.
“You're such a good boy, Rafe,” you praise him as you start rolling your hips, feeling the stretch his cock gives you, makes you see stars every single time, but you continue nevertheless.
“Love you so much, baby,” he muses, and you lift yourself up, slowly and deliciously before ramming down. You know he can't keep it together for long when you do this, but that was the goal.
“Fuck- keep going- love you,” he babbles as you bounce on him and just minutes later he spills into you, groaning as he finishes, and you lose yourself in it. Clenching around him and screaming his name as you come undone and fall to his chest.
“Do I have to say it?” Rafe asks through heavy pants, his hand stroking over your back.
“Five is a good score,” you giggle breathlessly.
“Next time, it's your turn,” Rafe sighs, and you can feel him drift off into sleep, while his dick is still buried deep inside you.
please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho
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#obx#rafe cameron x you#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fanfic#~blurb#~prompt#my writing#~ask
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Hello! If you're thinking about writing a Soobin fic, how about a Soobin x fem!reader in which they become fwb after finding out reader's bf cheated on her, so she wanna get revenge and he's such a good friend he can't help but offering himself... you can leave their relationship like that (secret fwb/affair) or maybe they become something more in the end...
Tell me what you think and feel free to change or add anything to the plot! :)
sweet revenge- c. soobin
summary: after your boyfriend cheats on you, your best friend is there to pick up the pieces.
reader: afab/fem reader!
warnings: kind of dom!soobin x sub!reader, soobin is in love with his bestie, oral (f receiving), kissing,explicit smut minors dni
a/n: tysm for requesting!! i love fwb trope a little too much.. also for the record i am the biggest sub!soobin enthusiast but i had to make him dominant here sorry :(
-
slamming the door to your apartment behind you, you immediately let out a cry of frustration.
twenty minutes prior to this, you had walked in on your boyfriend of almost a year cheating on you. you always had a hunch with how distant he became but you never thought you'd actually witness it first hand.
breaking you out of your thoughts was a sweet voice, the voice of your best friend to be exact.
"y/n? is everything okay" the voice asks.
fuck. you completely forgot you and your best friend soobin were having a movie marathon tonight.
you grow even more frustrated and rather embarrassed and slowly sink down to the floor finally letting your tears run free.
soobin immediately rushes over to you, long arms engulfing you in a tight squeeze.
you try to blurt out an explanation but your thoughts were too jumbled.
"shhh, it's okay y/n. calm down and tell me when your ready" soobin says softly.
after about five minutes of sitting in your best friends warm embrace, you finally find the strength to speak again.
"he cheated on me soobie" you pout and tears slowly fall down your face again.
soobin immediately holds you tighter, cursing under his breath at the boy he never liked in the first place.
"it's his loss" soobin immediately cuts in. "you're the sweetest girl i've ever met".
it wasn't unusual for your best friend to compliment you, you grew up next door neighbors and have been inseparable for as long as you could remember. even though you were used to the compliments, it didn't stop your heart from fluttering at his words.
after a few more minutes of silence, soobin noticed your breathing going back to normal and tears no longer dripping down your face.
he took your hand and led you to the bedroom that he had set up for your monthly movie night.
you notice how much effort he put into it and find yourself pouting again, ready to apologize before he cuts you off.
"don't y/n. we do this once a month it's okay to miss out on our fifth avengers rewatch" he says smiling.
you giggle at that, your best friend immediately cheering you up after such a shitty night.
god. you think to yourself. i should've just dated him.
before your thoughts could get any more bizarre, you take a seat next to soobin on your bed.
he immediately engulfs you in his arms again, kissing the top of your head and sighing contently.
after a few moments, you glance over at soobin who looks awfully nervous about something. before you could ask him yourself, soobin speaks up.
"you know... if you ever want to get back at him or something, i'd be more than happy to help" he gently says.
you furrow your eyebrows at his comment, not fully understanding what that meant.
"you mean like keying his car or something?" you confusedly giggle.
soobin chuckles at your cuteness.
"well that or, i don't know, maybe he should feel the same pain he caused you" he says sounding more confident now.
your eyes widen a bit when you fully understand what your friend was suggesting.
you weren't gonna lie to yourself, you knew your best friend was attractive. you just never really thought of him as anything other than your friend before. but for some reason, you were enticed by his idea.
"but...w-wouldn't that ruin our friendship?" you ask nervously.
"of course not. i'm your best friend and i'd do anything for you. let me do this for you" soobin rushes to say.
you weigh the pros and cons in your head, trying to logically think of what to do before that anger from earlier comes back. you wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt you, and your attractive best friend was offering to help you with just that. how could you possibly say no?
instead of verbally answering soobin, you gently press your lips against his plump ones.
he looks taken aback for a split second before he recovers himself and kisses back more passionately.
"tell me if you're uncomfortable at any point and i'll stop, okay?" he says seriously.
you nod, fully trusting him to do whatever he wanted to you anyway.
soobin moves down from your lips to your neck, stopping here and there to leave hickeys that you knew would be noticeable tomorrow.
you moan softly at the feeling of his lips against your neck, making him swallow a groan in his throat.
"you sound so pretty, baby" soobin comments casually making you a flustered mess.
"soobin, please" you beg him.
he knew what you wanted and he wanted it too. badly.
he moves down lower on the bed until he's face to face with your drenched panties.
"how are you already so wet?" he moans running his fingers up and down the wet spot before moving your panties to the side.
without warning, he presses his tongue flat against your core making you scream out in shock and pleasure.
"tastes so fucking good, better than i ever imagined" soobin says too entranced to notice his slip up.
you frown confusedly for a second before his tongue circles around your clit and the only thing you can think of right now is his mouth.
"soobin i'm gonna c-cum soon. really want your cock inside me" you say very obviously deep into your sub headspace.
soobin pulls his mouth off of your clit with a loud popping noise making you whimper at the loss of contact.
"since you asked so nicely" soobin says smiling and kissing your lips again.
he releases his (massive) cock out of his boxers and it was already dripping with precum.
soobin wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance, gently pushing in inch by inch.
you knew that right now wasn't the time to be comparing cock sizes, but he was so much bigger than your ex and felt so much better. were you really missing out on this feeling this entire time?
after a minute he finally bottoms out, both of you letting out soft moans at the feeling.
he looks into your eyes, silently asking for approval to start moving. you softly smile at his cuteness and nod your head at him.
immediately soobin picks up the pace and your smile is replaced with your mouth dropping open.
"oh my god soobin, you're so big. feels so good" you gasp.
soobin let's out a chuckle at this, knowing your ex must've been less than half of his size.
"yeah baby? does that feel nice?" soobin says trying to contain his own sounds of pleasure.
you nod your head up and down quickly, not being able to form a proper response right now.
soobin knew that you were already pretty close since he ate you out before this and he hurriedly moves his thumb to circle your clit as he fucks you.
"s-soobin. cumming" is all you could say as your orgasm rips through you, making your entire body shake.
soobin has never been more turned on in his life seeing you like this and quickly follows after you with a deep groan.
he releases onto your stomach, cum splattering onto your mouth and chin in the process.
you immediately lick it up while staring deep into his eyes and he shakes his head in disbelief.
"fuck that was amazing" he says slowing down and eventually taking his cock out of you.
you had completely forgotten about why you were so heartbroken and upset before and once you remembered, you really couldn't care less.
the only thought in your mind was soobin.
you knew your friendship would be changed drastically after this, especially after coming to terms with the fact that you might have been in love with your best friend this entire time.
little did you know soobin was laying next to you thinking the exact same thing.
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just an idea - a situation where you have never referred to severus by name (only professor snape), and him going feral for you when you do say it in a one on one setting, if you catch my vibe 🙈
Watch Your Mouth
Snape x original female character
18+ smuuuuuuuutty
3.7+ words
Thank you to whoever requested this, I hope you enjoy it! 🫶
The marking of his students’ papers was growing monotonous and never-ending for the Potion’s Master. Even now cursing himself for the way he would always insist on himself to go through each and every paragraph of potion ingredients with a fine tooth comb. He muttered to himself as his eyes skimmed the text, then his eyebrow arched as he found himself impressed with a particular piece of work. He completed his first pile of books and then moved onto the next, huffing as he pushed one pile away and brought one closer.
A knock sounded upon his classroom door whilst he opened the first student’s book and his eyes briefly glanced over to it.
If they really want me, they’ll knock again, he thought to himself.
They did.
He exhaled slowly, almost irritably, and looked up properly this time, speaking loud enough so that his voice would carry to the door, “Come in,” He then mumbled under his breath, “If you really must.”
“Sorry to disturb you, Professor,” The voice spoke as a tall, dark haired woman entered the room without a moment of hesitation, “Oh, marking in your dinner hour?”
“My students appear to apply fifty fifty to either of the following; they simply lack common sense and therefore I need to doublecheck their pathetic attempts at stringing a sentence together or they host a little too much knowledge in that their writings are so… pointlessly long when they really could have summed it up in one or two paragraphs,” Snape spoke in a very matter-of-fact tone, “Either way meaning that I have to spend endless hours doing this.” He gestured toward the several piles of student books.
“And I assume your face tells them all that without you having to open your mouth.” She bit her lip to hide a grin.
Snape remained silent, jotting down something with his quill as he glanced back and forth over the written text in front of him.
“Nice candles in this dark dungeon, Professor,” She commented as she glanced around at the many lit candles scattered about the room, “Have you got enough of them?”
“They are to ward off unwanted visitors.” Severus replied bluntly.
“Oh, you don't need candles to do that.” She mumbled under her breath, her eyes still looking around the room.
“Was there something you needed from me, Miss Eleanor, or have you just come here to simply distract me from my work?” Snape asked in a flat tone, growing irritated by watching Eleanor wandering around his dungeon classroom.
“I just thought I'd drop by…” She was now behind him, “Since you have barely acknowledged my existence since… that night.”
“Forgive me if I have been a little invested in finding out exactly what level my fifth years are at prior to them taking their O.W.L.s.” He fought not to break character, though her words did cause a slight stir in him.
“You say the word and I will leave you be,” She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Relax, Professor.” She said with a gentle squeeze over his cloak, knowing full well he was the last person to relax in a situation like this, especially not on command.
Snape huffed quietly under his breath and pushed the books to one side, staying quiet for a few long moments until he felt Eleanor’s hand leave his shoulder, “Alright!” He spoke rather louder than intended, “Alright, I am sure this marking can… wait.” He turned his head to look up at her stood at the side of him.
“Wait for what?” She played dumb.
“What ever it is that you came here for.” He spoke in an oddly timid tone, almost as if there was a hint of fear within it.
“And what do you think I came here for?” She bit her lip, now standing with her hands on her hips.
“Do not play games with me,” Snape warned dominantly as he stood up, facing her, “I cannot stress how much I urge you to not-”
“Not play games with Professor Snape, hm?” She finished his sentence for him, her head now tilted upward as he towered over her.
“Let… me… finish,” He emphasised each word more than the last, gritting his teeth.
“Oh, I know how you like to finish, Professor…” Her lips curled into a smirk, “In my mouth.”
Snape’s throat suddenly became very dry and he hoped his face didn't look as warm as it felt. His hands both balled into fists and he struggled with how to respond, blinking hard as his mind helplessly transported itself back to that night. When he dared to look at her again, this wasn't helped by her saying,
“I can still feel the marks of your fingers on the back of my neck…” As she reached over one of her shoulders and lightly rubbed her fingertips back and forth over the red raised skin on her neck that his frantic fingers had caused whilst trying to hold her head in place that night.
“I… did not…” He cleared his throat sheepishly, trying to push down the knowing that her words’ effect would very soon show itself in his trousers, “D-Did not invite you in here to… to make mockery of me… in my own classroom…” It was as if trying to string a sentence together was suddenly a huge task.
“And, yet, you do not ask me to leave… Severus.” She spoke in a tauntingly seductive tone.
Though the way she had spoken would've made anything sound appealing, it was her calling him by his name that caught him off guard. Not once had she ever addressed him as anything other than ‘Professor Snape’ or just simply ‘Professor’, not even during that night. He didn't know if it was the shock of her calling him by his name and the knowing that she would be slightly afraid of how he would react to not being addressed by his usual title, or whether it was the intimacy of her now speaking to him on first name basis — something only those who he really let in would do in confidence.
His lips were still parted in brief shock as their eyes met again and he felt his heartbeat throb in his throat, urging him to respond to her new daring confidence of calling him by his name for the first time. He raised one of his large hands and cupped her cheek in it, both of them now as eager as each other for their lips to be pressed together.
“Do not think I forget how you pleaded,” She breathed against his lips, now standing on her tiptoes and placing her hands against his chest to secure herself in order to deliver a more firm kiss to his lips, “How you begged, Severus.”
“Watch your mouth.” Severus snarled against her lips, kissing her harder.
“What, watch my mouth now?” She asked in between kisses, “Or when it's filled with your cock?”
Severus felt a shiver down his spine and into the pit of his stomach. His cock jolted in his trousers, earning a shaky breath from his lips. Both of their eyes opened briefly, but the look on Severus’ face took Eleanor’s breath from her completely; she had never seen such want mixed with such a furious expression. Before she even had chance to question what was on his mind, it was soon answered for her when his lips crashed back down on hers at the same time his hands gripped her hips.
“Oh…” She gasped but it was barely audible, hearing a load of clattering on the floor whilst eagerly kissing him back and then quite literally allowing him to sweep her off her feet and place her on his desk.
Once upon it, arms snaked around his neck, it became rather apparent that he had swept all of his marked and unmarked books to the floor in one desperate motion. His hands switched to her thighs and he lifted them up, gesturing for her to hook them around his waist as they devoured one another’s lips.
“Mm.. are you sure you don’t want me on my knees again, Severus?” She spoke quickly in between kisses, her fingers tangled in his black hair whilst his were frantically trying to grab at the buttons of his trousers.
“No,” He answered almost immediately, popping the button and pulling down the zipper of his trousers desperately and inhaling shakily against her lips, “I’m going to fuck- you- senseless,” He emphasised each word with a harder kiss to her lips each time and then speaking lowly against them, “I suppose you’ve earned it.”
“Oh, earned it, have I?” Eleanor grinned, lightly grazing her fingernails against the nape of his neck and kissing him with parted lips as he began to whimper into her mouth, “Is this what a girl has to do to ‘earn’ Severus Snape’s cock?” She dug her nails in a little harder, “Just suck him off a few times?”
“That’s certainly a good start, Princess.” Severus growled against her lips, reaching under the hem of her skirt and tearing her underwear down her legs as their tongues tangled.
“I’m no fucking Princess, Severus.” Eleanor tugged at his bottom lip and dipped her hands into the front of his open trousers, repeatedly caressing her fingertips back and forth over his hardened length straining against the material of his boxers.
Severus hissed from the feeling and narrowed his eyebrows, already feeling precum seeping into the material as Eleanor practically jerked him off through them with the pressure she was now applying with her palm. If this had been the first time they had ever gotten intimate with each other, that would have been enough to get him off completely, and he hated that she was aware of that, too. Now he had built somewhat of a resilience to her touch, mainly her lips, causing him to last more than all of three pathetic seconds. Still, he didn't quite fancy his chances with the aroused state she had managed to get him in, in impressive timing.
“Enough.” He spoke lowly, pushing his own hand now between her legs, “In my classroom, you are whatever I say you are.”
Eleanor’s hand returned to her side and her legs parted more the higher his hand traveled, eventually gasping when she felt his fingertips lightly brush against her. She instinctively leaned up to press another kiss to his lips, purring against them as he continued to circle his fingertips.
“That’s right…” He whispered against her lips, “Just because I haven’t fucked you yet, doesn't mean this doesn't belong to me.”
“Fuck… me, Severus.” She gasped shakily, wrapping her legs around him and trying to bring him closer with her heels against his bottom. One of his fingers pushed inside her and curled each time she pleaded for him, making him smirk against her lips when she began to moan.
Without barely a second thought, he removed his hand completely and pushed her legs further apart, fumbling in the crotch of his underwear before thrusting himself forward in one, heavy motion. Eleanor gasped in pleasure and Severus gritted his teeth, exhaling shakily as he repositioned his hands on her thighs. Their eyes met for a brief moment before their lips smacked back together, desperately kissing one another as his desk began to move beneath them from his movements.
“Fuck, how do you feel even bigger than you do in my mouth…” She breathed against his lips, tangling her fingers in his hair.
Severus didn't answer. Instead, he bit down on her bottom lip harshly and earned a small squeal, speeding up his thrusts as he gripped onto her thighs harder. He pulled her a little further off the edge of the desk and moaned against her lips from the feeling of her legs tightening around him.
“Wh… where are we going?!” She gasped when she felt Severus lift her, now holding her around him as he spun them both around, “What’s this, a change of scenery from your desk to your board?” She asked through a muffled laugh as her back thudded against the display board fixed to the wall at the side of his desk.
“If you’re not a Princess, then don't expect to be fucking treat like one.” He grunted, pinning her against the board with his hips as his arms secured themselves around her.
“Mm.. yes, Professor.” Eleanor grinned and snaked her arms around his neck.
Her lips gradually parted as Severus’ relentless hips continued to slam upward against hers, her head falling slightly and her lips landing upon his neck. She suckled on the skin briefly before breaking the contact to gasp in pleasure from the impressive motions of Severus’ somewhat questionably inexperienced hips.
“Christ, if I’d have known you’d be this good to fuck, I'd have done it weeks ago…” Severus grumbled, feeling his cock pulsating in delight with each movement.
“Too much time spent with your cock in my mouth, hm?” She teased him, lifting her head so she could kiss his lips.
“I…” Severus swallowed hard, the images of her knelt in front of him now flooding his brain.
“This mouth?” She kissed him again, “How does it feel to kiss the mouth that has contained your cock so many times, hm?”
“Sh—Shut up.” He grunted.
“Do my lips taste of—”
“I said…” Severus butted in, inhaling sharply though clenched teeth. Though, he did think about it, only for a short while before their lips were pressed against one another again, “Shut. Up.”
Eleanor began to rock her hips down against his, creating a slight banging noise against the wall as the board behind her began to hit against it with each movement. The beads of sweat began to gather upon Severus’ forehead as they continued to kiss and moan in sync, surprising Eleanor at how quickly her orgasm began to approach. Unaware of how close Severus was, she squeezed her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his bottom and urging for him to keep going, as if her world would stop if he did.
“O-Oh, Prof…” Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she squeezed them shut, “Severus!” She half cried out in pleasure as her climax fell victim to his thrusts before he clasped a hand across her mouth in an attempt to quieten her, “Sev, Sev, Sev…”
“Mm… yes?” He asked wearily, pressing their lips together but growing dizzy from his own orgasm fast approaching and Eleanor continuing to address and moan at him by his first name certainly not helping.
“Do you enjoy the taste of your own cock against my lips?” She asked, smirking tauntingly against his lips.
Severus broke the kiss immediately and pulled back, now pressing his lips so tightly together that they turned white. He stopped moving his hips, careless of whether he was cutting the ride of her orgasm short, and unhooked her legs from around his waist, making her feet land back on the floor.
“On your knees,” He glared darkly, “Now.”
“Severus…” Eleanor inhaled shakily, her eyes daring to look up into his black ones.
“Knees.” He terrifyingly emphasised it this time, grumbling under his breath, “I want to cum.”
Eleanor nodded quickly and began to kneel in front of him, almost afraid that she would reach her orgasm again just from the way he was speaking to her. She fluttered her eyelashes innocently and parted her lips, flattening her tongue for him as their eyes met. Severus stepped closer to her and cleared his throat, glancing down at his angrily red length still glistening with the remanence of Eleanor’s orgasm, also a droplet of precum threatening to drip from the tip and land upon her tongue.
“Good girl,” Severus exhaled deeply once Eleanor had leaned forward to push the tip of his cock into her mouth, gently suckling on the head tenderly whilst making sure to massage her tongue against the underside.
“Mm, mm…” She made soft noises each time more pushed into her mouth, feeling his hands beginning to entangle themselves in her hair.
Severus’ head gradually tilted back more and more as his length slipped further into her mouth and he gripped her hair slightly tighter when the tip of his length touched the back of her throat. Eleanor raised one of her hands and wrapped it around the base of his cock, starting to bob her head back and forth over him and following the movements of her head with her fist.
“Now…” Severus exhaled shakily, trying to talk through the moan taunting his lips, “I ask you a similar question, you little brat…” He felt his breath hitch from her actions, “Do you enjoy the taste of my cock with you splattered all over it?”
Before Eleanor even had a chance to reply, he swatted her hand away from him and firmed his grip on her head. Eleanor gazed up at him with a willing expression and tightened her lips around him, the head of his length now lingering in her mouth as she teasingly traced the tip of her tongue back and forth over the leaking slit. That bolt of pleasure was enough for Severus to begin thrusting himself back and forth into her mouth, throwing his head back with painfully quiet shouts of bliss; afraid he would bring too much attention to his classroom if he did so, but unsure how long he could keep himself quiet. One of his hands slipped to the back of her neck and his fingertips began to re-raise the reddened lines on the back of her neck again.
“Fuck, fucking… fuck,” He grunted, his hair covering his face now as it whipped in time with his thrusts, “Agh!”
Eleanor’s eyes began to water from the force of his hips and the constant bounce of the tip against the back of her throat each time. Thankfully, she was used to his liking of her mouth, so his size wasn't that much of a surprise.
His hands began to tremble, hers now pressed against his thighs to keep herself still, and he felt the all-too-familiar warmth in his stomach rapidly begin to rise. His moans caught in his throat and he suddenly stopped his hips, leaving only the head of his cock in her mouth again and weakly gesturing down to her;
“Fu… fucking make me cum…” He could barely speak, his toes already curling in his shoes in anticipation.
Eleanor immediately obeyed his command as if it was second nature at this point and began to suck on the head whilst her hand frantically pumped up and down his entire length. It wasn't long before his cries of, “Oh, oh, oh-!” quickly developed into sticky warmth landing on her now flat tongue. She gazed up at him with heavy eyes and watched as his face screwed up in pleasure, hands shaking madly in her hair as he struggled to grip onto anything from the ecstasy now coursing through him.
“E-Eleanor, ugh!” He whimpered, now stumbling back slightly and catching himself with his hands weakly gripping the edge of his desk.
“Mmmh…” Eleanor gradually slowed down the movements of her fist but continued to wiggle her tongue against the sensitive ridge, making him twitch madly from the sensitivity of it.
“I-If I open my eyes and find that you have not had the decency to swallow what you caused, I shall have to put a stop to these… encounters.” He spoke still out of breath, leaning back against the desk as his heavy eyes opened.
He was met with the sight of Eleanor still on her knees and licking her lips before they settled into a proud grin, their eyes meeting. The sight alone sent a shiver down Severus’ spine, and he feared his cock would never soften if that image was forever in his mind.
“I hope this has allowed the encounters to continue, then.” She bit her lip, getting to her feet.
“It does make my dinner hour go rather quickly, and my students’ markings may suffer, but…” He sighed softly, watching as she stood.
Eleanor began to nonchalantly tuck him back into his underwear and fasten up his trousers, arching a brow as she looked up at him again, “But?”
“I suppose I can make an acceptation for something like this to take place again.” He replied in a calm tone, trying to ignore the feeling of her hands upon him still and trying to distract himself by looking at the time, “But, I am afraid I am going to have to ask yourself to leave my classroom… for now, at least.”
“Don’t strain yourself, Professor…” Eleanor jokingly rolled her eyes and fixed her dress properly, walking over to the door, “It is not good for a man of your age.” She giggled.
“Actually…” Severus spoke, his footsteps evidently close behind her and making her silently fear a loud verbal repercussion of her daring words. She stopped at the door and turned around to face him, raising her eyebrows, “Drop ‘Professor’. I liked it when you called me ‘Severus’.” He admitted.
“Oh?” Eleanor smirked, “I couldn't tell.” She spoke sarcastically.
“I would tell you to watch your mouth, Miss Eleanor, but I am actually rather fond of doing that myself.” He swallowed hard, his lip twitching.
“Mm…” She grinned, placing her hand on the door handle, “Have a good rest of your day.”
“And you, too.” Severus nodded.
“In fact, one more thing…” Eleanor quickly turned around and bent down, picking up the torn underwear that had been carelessly tossed to the floor from before and then standing up straight again. Severus’ eyes narrowed and his breathing suddenly quivered when he felt her finger push into the waistband of his trousers, then underwear, pulling it away from his skin slightly and tucking her underwear into the front of them, “This way, I can always be wrapped around your cock… Severus.” She spoke in a seductively smooth tone, quickly pecking his lips.
Severus barely had time to take a breath before she had left his classroom, let alone form a response. Instead, he watched her leave from the doorway; once again on his own, once again counting down the seconds until their next encounter, and once again visibly aroused.
---
Thank you for reading! ♥️
Tags: 🫶
@acupnoodle @megladon045 @overgrownbat @hamiltonstann @icytrickster17 @honeyshampoo @bibliosophie @snifellus @liv2post @eyesinmymindinmay @pinterestwhore145 @dracolilhoe @anxietydevelopement @nidamae-approvedhpfanfics @hauntinq-6 @dontrunannabelle @callm3c0nfus3d @slytherinqueen4life @ilovesevsnape @wh0reforthemarauders @sorryimdyingrn @nooneeveryonenoone @mrs-snape5984 @vulnus-sanare @missgurlthang @thesecretsofseverussnape @evil-eyebrow @peppiloll @hazedwords @darlingvica @indigosparkle444 @sevprince-91 @dreamshopesfantasies @ficswjackson @secretpandaconnoisseur @dark-t1des @nyx-greenwood99 @severinaprince @serpentsbone @sil-writes-fiction-too @dark-tides-dungeon @marisimps @caprica99 @hisleastfavbrit
#snape smut#severus snape fanfiction#snape fic#snape fanfiction#snape love#professor snape#snape#severus snape#pro snape#snapedom#snape fandom#snape community#snape x oc#severus snape fluff#severus x oc#pro severus#severus snape fandom#severus snape fic#severus snape smut#alan rickman#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fandom#harry potter#harry potter smut#half blood prince#slytherin
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7 Summers at the Sea | bts | series masterlist
Spending the summer by the sea might bring with it more than just the sweet summer breeze of the salty ocean.
→ AUs: mermaid!au (they are mermen!), fantasy, magical
→ Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, drama, smut and fluff
→ Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.)
→ Taglist: do you want to be added to the taglist? Just drop a comment or send an ask (remember to tell me if you want to be tagged in all, one or more members).
→ Read on AO3
→ Author’s note: hi!!!! I love mermaid stories, and I don’t think there’s enough out there, so here’s me creating my own 🧜 This is a collection of mermaid stories for each member of bangtan! They are one-shots and stand-alone, but operate in the same universe ✨
🌊Namjoon
You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue calcite. Searching for the missing piece, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a deep dive in a hidden cave.
→ Deep Dive [TBA]
🌊Seokjin
Life as a mermaid is wonderful, especially when your merman boyfriend, Seokjin, treats you just right. But you’re beginning to recall memories that you don’t think are yours from life on land— from a past life maybe? When you do realize that the memories are in fact your own, the world comes tumbling down around you, questioning your very existence. Are you even a real mermaid?
→ When it Sinks In [TBA]
🌊Yoongi
TBA
→ The End Will Come [TBA]
🌊Hoseok
TBA→ Forelsket [TBA]
🌊Jimin
You don’t really enjoy your work on a trawler, but it pays the rent. When you hear some ruckus out of the deck, you go out to investigate, only to be met by an unreal sight: a blonde merman with a sparkly golden tail caught in the net, struggling to get free.
→ To Catch a Merman [TBA]
🌊Taehyung
TBA
→ Moonglade [TBA]
🌊Jungkook
When your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook.
→ Till We Meet Again [11.4k]
I don’t plan to have them all ready this summer, lol 😂 But they are all in the works, with my other 100+ wips (I really don’t have that many, I’m just exaggerating).
The list will be updated as I post them ✨
Also, please, do let me know if you’re excited— I’m struggling with posting and sometimes I feel like there’s no point in posting, because people don’t engage (= I’m losing motivation is what I’m saving).
Are you ready to take a swim? 🌊🧜
#bts x reader#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts smut fic#bts fanfiction#bts fics#bts fan fic#bts fanfction#bts fantasy au#bts x you#bangtan smut#bangtan x reader#bangtan x you#bangtan fanfic#bangtan fic#jimin smut#jungkook smut#namjoon smut#hoseok smut#yoongi smut#seokjin smut#taehyung smut#bts merman#bts mermaid#fic: 7 summers at the sea
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MOTHER HEN: PART EIGHT
parings: hawks x mother!reader
wordcount: 3.4k
warnings: descriptions of panic attack
note: I was laughing maliciously while writing this I hope yall know
summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.
two weeks.
two weeks without a single word from hawks.
whatever, no time to think about him.
not when poor Fumikage has exams, sweet thing needs help!
“Fumikage, twelve times nine- cmon…”
Fumikage stared blankly at the paper, he may not look it but..he does not know his times tables.
“I-I don’t know.” He continues to stare at the paper filled with different questions you’ve written down
“Twelve times nine.”
“You repeating it isn’t going to help me, mother.” His eyes flickering towards you and the paper.
“Just guess!” You exclaim.
“110!” He exclaims back quickly.
You smack his head gently, “so close- so far…”
Fumikages head whips up, “I was wrong?!”
“By like two numbers, it’s 108.” You pat his head gently.
Fumikages head droops slowly in defeat, “I’m failing.”
You chuckle softly and Fumikages small bit of depression, truly you doubt the entire times table will be on the exam.
You tap Fumikages chin, “keep your head up, you’re not failing anything.”
Fumikages head drops into your lap, signifying that he’s waving the white flag on studying for today.
You pet his feathers gently, your son’s been through a villain attack so you suppose he can rest!
Fumikage did mention a training camp if he passed both exams, thought he wasn’t able to tell you the location since he himself didn’t even know.
You personally wanted to bring him some food when he got home sick- Fumikage could never go over to the houses his few friends were at.
he missed his mama too much, that’s what he said.
Thought your heart was it dismay, you could feel like something was off but you couldn’t quite place it? it was deep in your gut.
if you focused too much on it then it would become nauseating.
But it was just a feeling, not truly affecting your daily life!
If you remembered correctly, Fumikages exams were tomorrow- then the training camp?
well you were quite prepared, you already predicted that Fumikage would pass with flying colors- which he did- so you gave him the most delicious meal your could think of.
With a mouth watering apple pie for dessert.
Sometimes Fumikage confused you, and bird liking apples feels wrong..but Fumikage is also just human with a bird for a face.
Your son’s confusing.
Fumikage is obsessed with apples, when he used to sleep in your bedroom you could swear it smelled like a tangy, ripe apple.
then we he left, so did the smell.
and the apple scented products didn’t help, kids said he smelled fruity so he went for more woodsy scents.
never got the apple out though.
You can take the apple out of the boy but not the boy out of the apple you suppose?
You watch joyfully as Fumikage huffs down all the food you prepared, mostly for him but it could feed a family of three or four.
Fumikages a growing boy- you’re not judging!
“You excited for camp?” You ask with excitement lining your words.
Fumikage muffled out a quick “very” almost choking on his food.
“Don’t talk while eating, you’ll choke.” You point at him.
Fumikage glares at you softly, but fixed his little attitude quickly. Whipping mouth, then pointing towards the pie.
You chuckle softly, cutting the pie dutifully into a thick piece of warm apple pie.
Fumikage holds the plate like it’s a million dollar vase, like it’s valuable.
Then he basically eats it in three bites, damned bird beak.
You can tell on his face he enjoyed it, reminded you of his father but only for a second.
He always said that your cooking made his heart swell.
well he’s not here and hasn’t been for 16 years, no point dwelling on the past.
Which is what hawks is doing at the moment, with Mirko more specifically.
Mirko rests her head the bench, arms behind her head while kicking her legs lazily to a slow tempo.
Hawks is hunched over, his hand covering his mouth while mumbling.
Mirko sighs, “you know I can’t hear you right? Stop covering your mouth.”
Hawks straightens up, leaning back on the bench with a huff.
“I mean- why would I get angry at her for kissing mean?!” His voice growing louder.
Mirkos head whips over to look at hawks, “she what..?”
“Relax, it was only on the forehead.”
Mirko deflates, pouting.
“So, let me get this straight before I yell at you.” Mirko starts slow and calculated.
“You wake up from your little nightmare in her house, then she comforts you like a “baby” in your opinion- kissss your forehead, you yell at her for confusing your small brain and then storm out?”
Hawks stays silent for a moment, staring at Mirko.
“M-my brain isn’t small.” He stutters out.
Mirko shrugs her shoulders, “don’t into that stuttering habit again, commission hates it.”
Hawks sighs softly, nodding.
“Still- my brain isn’t small, I was just confused.” Hawks retorts.
Mirko sighs heavily, agitated that she has to spend her dinner break listening to hawks, “Why are you confused..?”
Hawks plucks out a loose feather from his wings, twirling it in his fingers gently.
“I don’t know..I wanted her to do that but I still got angry.”
Hawks relaxes into the bench, staring up at the stars.
“I didn’t expect her to do it I guess? I worked so hard on trying to get her to like me and when she did that- I didn’t know what to think. Kinda like I reached my goal, but I didn’t reach it the way I wanted to.”
Mirko hums, her feet tapping softly to a faster tempo than before.
“So, your just upset cause you didn’t get the kiss you wanted?”
Hawks closes his eyes tightly, “it’s not that..i guess I didn’t want it?”
Mirko kicks his leg, “You did want it- you practically vent to me everyday on how you want to pounce and kiss on her.”
Hawks scoots farther away from Mirko, “I don’t know then, I dont even now why she kissed me anyways.”
Mirko knocks his ankle again, “She has a whole kid, her motherly instincts probably just kicked in when she saw a sad little birdy.”
Hawks hums, placing his hand over his face blocking the moonlight from seeping in.
Even though hawks was devastated on the fact that the both of you have basically cut contact, Fumikage was ecstatic.
And he even gets to go to a training camp to make his quirk better, with all his friends?
he’s living the absolute dream at the moment.
Until you rudely throw a remote at him.
You hop over and onto the couch, “Your pick.”
Fumikage relaxes into the blankets you threw onto him, what’s with you and throwing things.
Fumikage always enjoyed picking out the movie, always finding gems in the dirt.
Fumikage continues to scroll through all the options, sadly not finding anything that caught his eye.
He huffs, “there’s nothing good.”
“Not true, you just have terrible taste.”
Fumikage slowly looks over towards you with a “are you serious” face, which only makes you burst into a fit of giggles.
“You’re not funny.”
You gasp dramatically, “you’d say that to your own mother?!”
You kick his arm playfully, your laughter dying down at his hardcore facial expression that he’s sporting at the moment.
Almost like he’s planning something in that head of his..
“What’s on your mind Fumi?”
“Where’s that weighted blanket?” He cocks his head to the side, which is not a thing he does usually.
You play dumb, “What blanket?”
“The one you got me so I’d stop sleeping in your room.”
Truthfully, you have no idea where Fumikage is even going with this.
“Sold it.”
“Liar.” He retorts.
you gasp again, “don’t call me a liar!”
Fumikage hums, all you do is just confirm his suspicions.
Next time he sees hawks he’s getting that blanket back.
Hawks doesn’t need any piece of you, plus Fumikage actually did in-fact use that blanket..
Only when he went to his friends though.
And maybe when you worked nights.
not his fault he always put it back where he left it, he has manners unlike another bird he knows.
What should you even do in this situation?
change the subject obviously.
“You going to that training camp tomorrow aren’t ya?”
Fumikage nods, pride swelling into his chest.
“It’s quite exciting.” He responds monotone.
“Yea I can tell by your voice.”
Fumikages face droops slightly, “if I remember, it’s starts early in the morning.”
“Your trying to get out of hanging out with me?”
Fumikages eyes shoot wide open, “no- I-i just meant that I’d have to be there early!”
You hum, “then go to bed, don’t want you all groggy and mean to your classmates.”
“Is that what your co-workers say about you?”
“Bed, now.” You point towards his bedroom door.
Fumikage chuckles out a small “fine”, making his way to the bedroom.
“Night mom.” He calls from the bedroom.
You hum, “Night Fumi.”
You didn’t give me his nightly ruffle and kiss, you doubt Fumikage would notice though.
You wouldn’t be able to see him in the morning either, work starts just an hour before Fumikage would wake up.
You also try your hand at finding a decent movie, though your efforts were for nothing.
The feeling in your stomach wouldn’t settle.
it just got worse until it made you sick from doing nothing.
You stand up, walking over to the bathroom, trying to find some medicine that would deafen the effects.
Probably just an upset stomach, you thought.
The feeling settled, slowly may you add, as you walked over to your nest.
Letting yourself fall into the mess of blankets and small plush’s, including that damned hawks one.
your hands felt- sweaty? clammy more like, you felt nervous for something but it never came.
Reluctantly, you grab onto the soft plush.
It was nice to occupy your hands.
the feeling didn’t leave, only softened.
That’s all you needed though.
After you woke up and left for work Fumikage texted you, just checking on you of course.
He inherited your anxiousness.
Though you continue to work through the day, hoping that Fumikage had fun on his small little trip.
You got less texts and phone calls but the explanation was that they were wringing him dry.
intense U.A…that could be an email.
On the third day of Fumikages training camp, you got not texts or calls.
And when you got home from work, maybe around 11:30? The nausea came back full force.
It was a gut feeling, you tried to calm yourself down but you ended up texting Fumikage a quick message to see if he was okay.
He didn’t respond.
he was probably asleep! That was the logical way of thinking.
most logical.
you turn on the news, mostly to distract your brain from Turing to the worst possibility’s.
Fumikage was fine, no one knows where he is.
neither do you.
You sit down onto the couch, nervously biting your nails.
It doesn’t say anything about U.A. which Is a good sign.
Only says something about a spotted forest fire that they’re trying to deal with, weird that the flames are blue though.
Even more news stations can be seen in the background, they never care about forest fires? It’s not like All Might of Endeavour will be there either, so why do they care so much?
The longer you watch the news, the more information released, it seems like the aftermath of an attack but it apparently has the possibility to still be continuing.
Fumikage still hasn’t texted.
You heart doesn’t drop until they say “U.A.” And “villain attack” in the same sentence.
It’s a fucking fire, and there’s students.
is Fumikage okay?
did something happen to him?
is that why he hasn’t responded?
you can feel your breath quicken, bringing too much air yet none at all at the same time.
The scream that comes from you is guttural.
Your neighbors probably think you’re being murdered, you can’t stop though.
Imagine if you didn’t get off of work.
Would you had to see Fumikages body on the stretcher?
The nausea comes back again, you can feel yourself getting lightheaded.
And sudden knock on the door knocks you from your thoughts, only for a moment.
Quickly, you walk over to the door.
It’s police. They came to tell you Fumikages dead because U.A. Is an incompetent school-
“Y/N” hawks voice calls gently.
You don’t know what to feel, why is he here?”
“W-why-“ “I heard on the news.”
You look terrible, horror is written all over your face.
Hawks holds your shoulders, “He’s okay.”
good thing for that, you practically fall into him.
Sobs rack your throat, you can’t stop crying even though you finally know Fumikage is fine.
Hawks closes the door behind him, slowly pushing you towards the couch.
trying to make you comfortable.
He holds onto you as you cry your heart out, he can feel his ache.
He was notified on the radio before the news was, villains attacked the secret training camp.
He flew like a bat out of hell to make it to your house, he thought about going through your balcony but that would’ve scared you.
He holds onto you, rubbing your back and trying to tell you to just breathe.
You hold onto him tightly, until your knuckles are white.
He brushes your hair gently, taking off his gloves beforehand.
“Y/N, calm down.” His voice is stern but gentle.
You only respond with more sobs.
“Everything’s okay, I promise you.” His voice almost sounds like he’s begging you to feel better.
To feel like it’s not your fault.
You take a big breath, trying to control yourself.
“W-where is he?” You ask slowly through hiccups and sniffles.
Hawks continues to hold you, “most likely at the hospital getting checked for any injuries.”
He can feel your breathing speed up, “he’s fine, he’s a strong kid.”
You push your head farther into him, trying to find comfort in him.
“Why’d you come.”
“…I don’t know.” His voice tender.
You hit his stomach, “I’m not forgiving you for ignoring me.”
He chuckles nervously, “I know.”
“I despise you.”
Hawks sighs, “..I know.”
You hug onto him a little tighter than before, exhaustion coming down onto your body.
You can’t drive to the hospital like this.
“Hawks.” You mumble out from his soft jacket.
“Yeah?”
“Please go get my son.” You beg him.
Hawks nods softly, placing his gloves back on and gently settling your back onto the soft pillows.
“I was planning on it.” He sends you a small goofy smile.
you can’t return it, only just a huff of amusement leaves you.
Hawks makes his way out the door and over to the a hospital that Fumikage would most likely be at.
Hawks guess was correct since he was able to Fumikage next to the vending machines.
Fumikage glances over to hawks, then realizing that it’s hawks he stares dead at him.
“Hi Tokoyami.” Hawks calls cheerfully.
Fumikage tilts his head up, “Why are you here?”
“Your momma asked me to come and get you.”
“Liar, you just gonna kidnap me and bargain my mother for her love to ensure my safe return.” Fumikage says with an 100% serious face.
Is this what you have to deal with everyday?
Hawks smiles, “No, quite the imagination you got.”
Fumikage doesn’t return it, only grimacing.
hawks sighs, “look, your moms worried sick- just let me take you home.”
The vending machine makes a soft clutter as Fumikage speaks, “How’d she find out?”
“The news?”
Fumikage makes a small tsking noise, then dropping to the opening of the vending machine.
“Get me my drink, then you can take me home.”
Hawks laughs, clutching his stomach softly.
This kid is seriously trying to make some trade deal.
Hawks walks over to the vending machine, hitting it in the middle then shaking it.
A loud clunk comes from the opening, fumikage reaches his hand into it only to have two drinks.
He grabs both, a free drink is a free drink.
Then looking at the second one, “my mother, she’s okay?”
“Slightly disturbed, but alright.”
Fumikages words suddenly quiet down, “dkd she cry?”
He talks his foot nervously as hawks nods, then Fumikage hands him the second drink.
Hawks raises his eyebrows in surprise, “what’s this for?”
Fumikage looks away, “I’m aware that your…infatuated with my mother, and I’m assuming that you comforted her when I was unable to. This is a token of my gratitude, Hawks.”
Hawks smiles, snapping open the drinks.
Two birds with one stone, Mirko. He got to technically get good with you and your son!
Fumikage doesn’t make eye contact with hawks again, maybe it hurt his pride to thank someone he apparently despises so much.
Hawks walks out of the hospital with Fumikage, who really only had scratches apparently.
A lot of the other kids had a lot worse, one even being kidnapped.
Hawks wrap his arms around Fumikages waist, lifting the two of them into the air and making their way back to your home.
The flight was quiet, not awkward like last time.
It was enjoyable in hawks opinion.
Walking through the door, Fumikage stops just to stare at you.
Your lips wobble as you open your arms up to him, inviting him into your warm embrace.
Fumikage runs into your arms, shaking.
Hawks didn’t even notice Fumikage was affected by the attack.
Your holding Fumikage so tightly, it makes hawks heart feel..empty?
Seeing something he wished he had, not you holding onto him but his own mother.
Fumikage starts to stutter, trying to not let the tears affect his speech, “mother- im so sorry!”
You mumble to Fumikage that he did everything he could’ve possibly done, that he has nothing to apologize for.
“I-i let dark shadow out of control.”
you hug him tighter, you don’t really understand how it feels to be Fumikage, how it feels to have someone else attached to you.
You can only whisper reassurance into him ears, kissing his forehead softly.
You look over to see hawks standing there awkwardly, so out of place.
The only place you know where to put him is with you.
You reach out your hand to him, he grabs it.
You whisper quietly, “thank you.”
Hawks only tightens his grip on your hand, wanting to feel the pressure of your bare hand against his but he’s unable to due to the thick gloves he wears.
Fumikages cries grow softer until it’s quiet, seemingly fallen asleep.
You smile, happy that he’s home.
But you have another business to attend to so you shift out of his hold, laying him down onto the couch.
You look at hawks, “We should talk.”
He nods sheepishly, following you to wherever you’re heading.
You open the door, sitting on the steps and patting the spot next to you.
He sits down next to you, letting out a small breath he’d been holding in.
He speaks first, “I’m sorry for being angry with you.”
You hum, almost like you’re urging him to continue speaking.
“You confuse me, and I regret..w-walking out like that..” he stutters.
His wings flutter softly, ears growing red as he covers the lower half of his face.
he mumbles something incoherent.
You giggle softly, “What did you say?”
“I-i said I enjoyed…your a-affection.”
You hum, “thank you for the apology, and compliments.”
hawks nods, his ears growing redder.
You pinch his ears softly, “Fumikage wants his blanket back.”
“It’s mine now.” Hawks says sternly.
You laugh and stand up, waiting for hawks to do the same.
“You should get some rest at home.”
Hawks nods, standing up and making his way down the stairs.
Until you grab his shoulder softly, “hold on.”
Hawks looks over to look confused slightly.
You push up his visor towards his forehead, kissing the space between his eyebrows gently.
Hawks wings puff up and almost spread to their full length before he stops them.
“There, your reward.” You say nervously.
Hawks nods, seemingly speechless by your actions.
Then making his way quickly down the stairs, bolting out of there like a mad man.
Taking off into flight, only slightly off balance and almost tripping.
Hawks quickly flies home, shedding himself of his clothes and throwing himself onto bed.
Grabbing your blanket and holding it close.
He starts to giggle and kick his feet like some school girl.
If only Mirko could see him now.
Actually- he can’t wait to tell Mirko.
TAG LIST: comment to be tagged!💕
@lost-in-horrorland @boopjuice @validveenus @qardasngan @arminsarlerts @star-the-rabid-dog @bunni-teeth81 @lightsgore @portgasdbruh @camejlo-35 @marsbars09 @tharae514 @yoongiwantsme @kimahrii @pink-jello-fish @l1vvvvv @miy-svz @bumblebeebutter @lacunaanonymoused @emmmeoo
AUTHORS NOTE:
I am genuinely so sorry that I can’t tag some of you guys, tumblr won’t even let me and I feel like I going crazy😭 I hope the people who I could tag were able to see this next part part and again I’m really sorry! But you better love me again after all that fluff😒
#anime#fanfics#hawks x reader#takami keigo#bnha hawks#keigo x you#mha takami keigo#spotify#hawks x y/n#mha#takami keigo x reader#keigo x y/n#bnha keigo#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami#keigo x reader#fumikage tokoyami#mha fumikage#mha mirko#my hero academy fanfiction#mha fanfiction#mha hawks
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YOU— YEAH YOU! DO THIS THING WITH ME!
THIS IS YOUR AGGRESSIVE SIGN TO CREAT EVERY DAY FOR ONE YEAR.
Okokokokok so the goal is essentially what I said above. Write/draw something every day for a year. I know that sounds like A LOT but even if you can spare 2 minutes in your day to quickly scrible something into your notes app that's perfect.
Why should you bother with this?
You will end up at 365 pieces by the end of the year
you will improve your skills
you are bound to find some gold
even if you miss 1/3 of the days you will still have 243 things!!!
helps you be more in tune with your feeling (especially if you treat it like a journal)
you can try out different styles in a judgement free zone
uhhhh you love me
you will learn how to be more creative
you will have content to post on your blog/publish/submit to contests
you will have something to keep you going/motivated
you won't be alone
AND LOTS OF OTHERS I DONT HAVE TIME FOR
So this is your sign to write with me
(don't worry about starting on the same day just start making stuff)
I will be posting the things I write on @rheas-poetry-motivation
JOIN ME 🫵
Tagging people for reach and cause i love my moots:
@mister-dirty-hands, @bamb1fawn, @outromoony, @themortalityofundyingstars, @garden-of-runar
@ancientpokemonrock, @ang3lic-t3ars, @justiceforplutoo, @albatris, @gayafaaryn
@lorelangdon, @imastoryteller, @chaoticcandle, @gildy-locks, @jamespotterbbg
@seekmemystar, @tequilaqueen, @picklerab23, @a-k-oblackhat, @leahnardo-da-veggie
#writing blog#creative writing#writerslife#young writer#writers#writerscommunity#writers on tumblr#writblr#writing advice#am writing#writers block#writing#writing humor#writeblr#writers and poets#artistsontumblr#artists on tumblr#digital artist#small artist#oc artist#poems on tumblr#poets on tumblr#poets corner#writing process#writer#on writing#creative writers#fanfic review#fanfiction#fanfiction tips
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Ghost X Plus size reader
You've always been known as the "big girl" your whole life. No matter how many diets, how many sports you played, how baggy your clothes were, everyone could still tell how fat you were. You gave up on dating after the third time you got cheated on (all different guys) and just accepted that you would never be anyone's type.
Your best friend just broke up with her boyfriend who was no good for her and wanted to celebrate finally being free by going to a fancy bar to "find her a sugar daddy". You are definitely a home-body and can be pretty antisocial. She worked her charms and dragged you out of the house, even convincing you to wear a pretty revealing outfit (at least to you).
Your hair up in a low slicked back bun with dangling silver earrings and a matching necklace. You're wearing a matching two piece with the floor length high waisted skirt having a big slit down the side to show off your stretch marks and cellulite. The top coming just below your breast with your entire cleavage on display through the small panel of mesh barely connecting the two sides. The one good thing about being big is never having to worry about being flat because if anything you're worried one of the girls are gonna pop out at some point tonight. The whole thing is a dark red that compliments your skin well, which means nothing to you because you feel so insecure about the whole thing.
The problem is your best friend is a short and skinny girl who always has to fight guys off of her, you never even get acknowledged with her around. Seeing her looking perfect in her tiny dress makes you feel even worse and having to hold back tears while looking in the mirror to put your final touches of makeup on.
When you do finally get there it is much fancier than you thought it would be, it's dim lighting with gold accents on the walls. You both head over to the bar that looks to be pure marble reflecting off the jewelry of the women sitting near it. Before you even reach the bar, a man has already stopped your friend asking if she is alone tonight and would like to join him and his friends. She says yes only if you can come too, and you can tell by the look on his face he is second guessing his invitation. You don't wanna deal with the awkwardness of this situation anymore and tell her to just go by herself, she pesters you some more but you get her to stop when you make up some lie about them not really being your type (which isn't entirely wrong, but you can't really be that picky when no one wants you).
You huff when you turn around to sit at the bar and ask the bartender for a drink "something strong" is all you say before taking out your phone to call an Uber back home. This was a mistake, why did I even entertain the idea of coming here? You think while waiting for your drink.
A tall man sits next to you and puts his elbows on the bar taking up a ton of space. You get a good whiff of his cologne and you can tell it's expensive, but you don't even bother looking up to see who it is. It's not like anything is gonna come of it.
"Fuck..."
You hear in a low tone, so quiet you almost missed it. You finally decide to look at the man sitting next to you only to catch him already looking at you, but not your face. His eyes are hard locked onto your thighs that are now almost entirely out of the slit in your skirt due to you just sitting down. He is for some reason wearing a mask that covers his whole head, only showing his eyes with a skull painted on it. Not knowing what to do as you've never been stared at before you just got back to looking at the bartender and waiting for your drink.
Damn it must be busy how long does it take to make a drink? You say to yourself before quickly lancing back at the man to see if he has stopped looking at you. Only to see him now looking at your breasts that are glistening in the light and looking like they are going to bust your top open any second. You kind of like this new attention until you see him adjust himself in his pants, then it becomes too real. You finally get your drink and the man next to you orders one for himself and gets it immediately.
"Tch, pretty privilege" you say a little louder than you would have liked before sipping your drink.
"Watch it love, wouldn't want those pretty thighs of yours to get bruised." He says without even looking at you.
You look at him eyes wide at his blunt comment about your body, but this time it was in a good way. He called you pretty. You've almost never hear that outside of your family or friends just trying to hype you up. Your cheeks immediately get hot and turn red while you try to look away like his comment didn't just make your whole year. It quiet between the two of you for a while before you look back in his direction to see him not even trying to hide the fact he is looking at your thighs again. You whole body starts burning up and you look back at him and he is now looking you dead in the eye. His deep brown eyes piercing into you showing nothing but need in them. It scares you as you've never seen that look directed towards you and quickly turn your head in the other direction trying to hide your face, buy turn your body a little more towards him so he can get a better view of your thighs.
You hear a deep chuckle only making you even more nervous. You finish the rest of your drink (that was definitely way too strong but this shits expensive) and are already feeling its effects on you. Body getting hot, eyes looking more tired, getting a little light headed, but most importantly... more confident.
Without looking in his direction you slowly move your hand down your body and hook the side of your skirt slit with your index finger. There is a small pause to try and calm your heart beat, then you move your skirt out of the way to show both of your legs entirely. Still not looking at him you hear his breath hitch and become very heavy.
You've never made a man breath heavy just from looking at you, and its really getting to you. You can feel warmth begin to pool in your lower stomach making you feel even hotter. You spread your legs just a little bit, only enough for him to see the top of your black lace panties. His heavy breathing abruptly stops and you fear you went too far. Maybe you were reading his signals wrong, how could this hot guy want anything to do with you. You look down into your lap in disappointment from getting your hopes up about to run out in embarrassment until you see his rough, veiny hand. He hesitates for a moment before finally placing his hand on your inner thigh, squeezing it hard for a second before softly rubbing its up and down.
"You'r gonna have to finish what ya started, Love" He says while leaning in close to your ear.
Your best friend had gotten up to grab a round of drinks for the guys she was sitting with, and watched the whole thing unfold...
#cod mw2#cod x reader#military#18+ content#smut#ghost#simon ghost riley#plus side girls#task force 141#thickwomen
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𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖊.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭!𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 — 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝐼𝐼⊹ ₊ ݁.
❛ You lied to me! I did. You poisoned me! I did. You said you loved me! I do. ❜
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱. ⊹ ₊ ݁. regency!au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, tension, mutual pining, angst, smut will happen later, age difference, forced marriage, gothic setting.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ Part 1 / Part 2 . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The room was a flurry of activity as you stood before your mirror, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your reflection. Your maid, Eliza, bustled around, fastening the intricate buttons of your gown and adjusting the delicate lace that adorned your sleeves. The dress was a light lilac shade, a colour that highlighted your eyes and complemented your skin, making you feel both elegant and beautiful.
Eliza stepped back, surveying her work with a critical eye. "You look stunning, Miss Y/n," she said with a smile, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on the gown. "Lord Ancunin won't be able to take his eyes off you."
You blushed at the mention of Astarion, the enigmatic viscount who had saved you in the dark streets of Baldur's Gate and had since captured your thoughts. "Thank you, Eliza," you murmured, adjusting a strand of hair that had escaped its pin. "I hope tonight goes well."
Eliza leaned in slightly, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. "Are you excited to see him tonight? Lord Ancunin, I mean?" Your cheeks warmed further. "I suppose I am," you admitted. "He has been quite kind."
Eliza chuckled softly. "Kind? More like charming. Everyone is talking about you two already. They say he hasn't shown this much interest in anyone since he arrived."
Your heart fluttered at her words, though you tried to maintain a composed exterior. "People do love to gossip," you replied, though the thought of being the centre of such talk made your pulse quicken.
Eliza's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Well, tonight will certainly give them something to talk about. Just be yourself, Miss Y/n. You have a way of captivating people."
You smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you, Eliza. I will try." With a final adjustment to your gown, Eliza stepped back, giving you an encouraging nod. "Now, go and make a lasting impression."
As you turned back to the mirror, the door creaked open, and your mother entered the room. Her gaze swept over you, her expression uncharacteristically soft. "You look lovely, absolutely stunning, Y/n," she said, her voice lacking its usual cold edge. "Remember to carry yourself with grace and poise tonight. It's important to make a good impression."
You felt a mix of pride and anxiety at your mother's rare approval. "Thank you, Mother," you replied, forcing a smile. "I will do my best."
She handed you a folded piece of paper, her eyes glinting with determination. "Remember, a lady must always be composed and elegant. Smile, but not too much. Speak, but listen more—men love when they are the ones leading the conversation, especially the rich ones. And most importantly, make sure to dance with as many suitable gentlemen as possible. I made you a list already. This ball is a crucial opportunity for us."
You unfolded the list, scanning the names with a growing sense of dread. The name of Astarion was nowhere to be seen. You tried to hide your disappointment, forcing a smile as you nodded. "I understand."
Your mother's eyes softened for a brief moment, and she gently cupped your cheek. "I know you do. I just want what's best for you, my dear." With a final adjustment to your gown, Lady Thornfield stepped back, her usual composed demeanour returning. "Now, go and make us proud."
You took a deep breath, the excitement and anxiety of the evening swirling within you. You knew the importance of the ball—not just as a social event, but as a chance to secure your family's future. As you descended the grand staircase, you resolved to face the night with grace and confidence, hoping that amid the glittering chandeliers and swirling gowns, you might find the path to your own happiness.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The carriage ride to the ball seemed to stretch on forever, the oppressive tightness of your corset growing more uncomfortable with each passing moment. You held your breath as the carriage finally drew to a halt in front of the grandiose mansion, its windows aglow with the warm light of chandeliers. The sound of music and laughter drifted out, mingling with the crisp night air.
Your mother stepped out first, her posture as regal as ever, before turning to offer you a hand. "Remember, Y/n, tonight is about making the right connections," she reminded you, her eyes sharp with purpose.
As you stepped out of the carriage, the tightness of your corset seemed to constrict even more. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The mansion before you was even more magnificent than you had imagined, with towering columns and grand archways adorned with flowers. The entrance was a bustle of elegantly dressed guests, their laughter and conversation filling the air.
Lady Thornfield wasted no time, her demeanour transforming into one of social grace as she greeted acquaintances she had made in the short span of your stay in Baldur’s Gate. You followed closely behind, feeling like a prized possession on display.
"Ah, Lady Thornfield, how wonderful to see you," a portly gentleman exclaimed, bowing slightly as he kissed your mother's gloved hand. "And this must be your lovely daughter."
You offered a polite smile as the gentleman's gaze lingered on you. "A pleasure to meet you, sir," you said, curtsying as was expected.
"The pleasure is all mine," he replied, his eyes appraising you with a familiarity that made your skin crawl. "I must say, you are even more enchanting than the rumours suggested."
"Thank you, sir," you replied, trying to mask your discomfort. "It is a lovely evening, is it not?"
"Indeed it is," he said, his eyes never leaving you. "I hope we will have the chance to speak further later."
As you moved further into the room, you were greeted by a series of gentlemen, each one more eager than the last to gain your favour. Their eyes followed you, making you feel like a coveted prize in a trophy collection.
"Miss Y/n, may I have this dance?" a young man asked, extending his hand toward you. He had a charming smile, but there was something calculating in his eyes.
You glanced at your mother, who gave a barely perceptible nod of approval. "Of course," you replied, placing your hand in his.
As you were led to the dance floor, the young man introduced himself. "I am Sir Reginald Hartwell," he said with a slight bow. "Your beauty outshines even the most radiant of jewels tonight."
"Thank you, Sir Reginald," you replied, trying to keep your tone light and pleasant. "You are very kind."
The dance began, and as you moved through the steps, Sir Reginald kept up a steady stream of conversation, mostly about his own accomplishments and the size of his estate. You nodded and smiled in the right places, but your mind was elsewhere, scanning the room for a certain pale gentleman.
"Tell me, Miss Y/n," Sir Reginald said, leaning in slightly, "what are your interests? Surely a lady as captivating as yourself has many."
You hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I enjoy reading and spending time in nature," you said simply.
"Ah, a lady of refined tastes," he said with a smile. "Perhaps we could discuss literature sometime. I have quite an extensive library."
"That sounds lovely," you replied, though you couldn't muster much enthusiasm. As the dance came to an end, you curtsied and thanked him for the dance, relieved to have a moment to yourself.
As you moved back towards your mother, another gentleman intercepted you. "Miss Y/n, a moment of your time, if you please?" His voice was smooth, his manner confident.
"Of course," you said, forcing another smile. "And you are?"
"Lord Percival Hastings," he said, taking your hand and bowing over it. "I must say, you are the talk of the evening. Everyone is eager to make your acquaintance."
"That is very flattering, Lord Hastings," you replied, trying to hide your growing fatigue.
As he engaged you in conversation, you found yourself answering the same questions over and over—about your family, your interests, your thoughts on Baldur's Gate. It was exhausting, and you felt like you were being assessed, weighed, and measured against some invisible standard.
And just as you were thinking that there was no use staying at this ball, suddenly, there was a burst of noise—a mix of female giggling and excited chatter—that caught everyone's attention. You turned towards the source, curiosity piqued. The crowd seemed to part slightly, and then, finally, you saw him.
Astarion.
He looked even more handsome than you remembered, his presence commanding the room effortlessly. His curly hair was perfectly in place, the soft ringlets framing his chiselled and precious features. His wine eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the room with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
But it was his outfit that truly took your breath away.
The fabric was rich and luxurious, and the shade of lilac was unmistakably the exact same as your dress. It was as if the two of you were coordinated, a silent, unspoken connection that set you apart from the rest of the crowd. The realisation sent a thrill through you.
Astarion caught sight of you, and for a brief moment, his eyes softened ever so slightly. However, his attention was quickly diverted by one of the girls at his arm, who was giggling and asking where he had found such a beautiful outfit for the evening.
"Oh, this old thing?" he replied vaguely, with a charming smile that seemed to mesmerise her. "Just a little something I had made. I'm glad you like it." Mothers and daughters surrounded him like bees to the most beautiful flower, each vying for his attention. The mothers presented their daughters with hopeful eyes, subtly nudging them forward, each one hoping to catch his favour.
"Lord Ancunin, have you met my daughter? She would be delighted to have a dance with you tonight," one mother said, her voice filled with eagerness. "And this is my daughter," another chimed in, gently pushing her blushing daughter forward. "She's been looking forward to this ball for weeks."
Astarion smiled graciously, his eyes flitting between the eager faces around him. "Ladies, it would be my absolute pleasure to mingle with such charming company tonight," he replied, his tone smooth and diplomatic. "However, I must leave my dance card open for now. There are so many wonderful guests to meet."
His words elicited more giggles and whispers of excitement. You watched the scene unfold from a distance, a mixture of admiration and a twinge of disappointment swirling within you. Despite the crowd surrounding him, you couldn't help but feel that your moment with him had been lost.
As Astarion gracefully navigated the attentions of the mothers and their daughters, his charm and elegance made him the centre of attention. It was clear that he was the evening's most sought-after guest, a fact that only heightened the anticipation and excitement of the night.
Your mother appeared beside you, her presence marked by the slight rustling of her gown and the familiar scent of her perfume. She glanced towards Astarion, who was still surrounded by a throng of admirers, and sighed with thinly veiled disapproval.
"Apparently, the man who covets our lands is quite popular," she remarked, her tone sharp. "It seems he enjoys the attention far too much for a gentleman of his supposed standing."
You could sense her irritation, the way her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed the scene. It was clear she didn't appreciate Astarion's behaviour, his charm working a bit too well on the crowd for her liking.
"Mother, he’s just being polite," you offered, trying to defuse the situation. "Apparently he's also new in town, after all. It's only natural that people are curious about him."
Your mother's gaze shifted to you, her expression softening momentarily. "Perhaps, but politeness can easily be mistaken for something else in these circles. Remember, Y/n, you are here to secure our family's future, not to indulge in frivolous distractions— like him. "
You nodded, feeling the weight of her expectations once more. "I understand, Mother."
Your mother remained beside you, her gaze still fixed on Astarion as he charmed the crowd. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned closer, her voice low and edged with disapproval. "In any case, he is too old to have children," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "He won't be a good suitor for you, Y/n. We need someone who can secure our family's future, someone who can give you heirs."
You felt a pang of disappointment at her words. Despite the undeniable charm and the connection you felt with Astarion, your mother's pragmatic concerns cast a shadow over your hopes. You glanced at him again, his elegant figure standing out even amidst the crowd.
"Mother, we don't know how old he truly is," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And he seems to have many qualities that could make him a good match."
Your mother shook her head slightly, her expression firm. "Appearances can be deceiving, my dear. Charm and elegance are not enough to build a secure future. We need someone younger, someone more suitable for a lasting union— a good man, unlike him."
You glanced at your mother, trying to keep your tone measured. "But, you said I would most likely marry the one who will own the lands. If Lord Ancunin is the one making the best offer, shouldn't we consider him?"
Your mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression a mix of annoyance and contemplation. "The deal with Lord Ancunin has not yet been concluded," she replied firmly. "And before any decisions are made, I've asked some qualified people to look into his background. We must ensure he is truly suitable."
You swallowed, trying to hide your frustration.
Her gaze softened just a bit, though her resolve remained. "I only want what's best for you, my dear. We cannot be too careful, especially with someone as enigmatic as Lord Ancunin."
You nodded, though a part of you resisted her logic. "I'll keep your advice in mind."
As the evening stretched even longer, it became clear that the ball wasn't unfolding the way you had hoped. The tension in the air was palpable; Astarion had yet to choose a lady to dance with, and his indecision seemed to heighten the anticipation and anxiety among the guests.
You could hear snippets of conversations around you, some filled with excitement and others with thinly veiled jealousy. One particular group of girls caught your attention. They were clustered together, their eyes darting towards Astarion as they spoke in hushed tones.
"My father has already arranged several dinners with him," she said, her voice carrying a note of pride. "Lord Ancunin and I have gotten along quite well. I'm certain he'll choose me for the first dance. It’s only a matter of time."
"Really?" another girl replied, her tone a mix of admiration and envy. "That's wonderful."
The first girl, her head held high, smiled confidently. "Of course, that’s only natural. Father said Lord Ancunin spoke highly of our estate and seemed quite taken with our traditions. Who knows, perhaps this will be the start of something special."
Your heart sank slightly at her words. The idea of Astarion already being courted by another family, especially one with such connections, felt like a blow. The evening was not turning out as you had envisioned. Instead of the excitement and romance you had hoped for, there was a growing sense of unease and uncertainty.
You glanced over at Astarion. He was still surrounded by admirers, his expression courteous but inscrutable. His eyes flicked around the room, never settling on any one person for too long. You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, and whether you had made any impression on him at all.
As the tension in the room reached its peak, Astarion began to excuse himself from the cluster of admirers surrounding him. You watched as the girl next to you eagerly stepped forward, already beginning to accept his offer with gracious enthusiasm.
But then, to your surprise, Astarion's attention shifted. His gaze found yours, and his lips curved into a slight smile as he turned towards you, his movements graceful and deliberate. The room seemed to fall into a hushed silence as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours.
With a deep, sweeping bow, Astarion extended his hand towards you, his voice smooth and low. "Miss Y/n, would you do me the honour of a dance?"
Your heart leaped in your chest at his words, a rush of excitement and relief flooding through you. Despite the uncertainty and the whispers of doubt that had clouded the evening, here was Astarion, choosing you above all others. It was a moment that felt like a small victory.
You smiled in response, unable to hide the warmth in your eyes. "I would be delighted, Lord Ancunin."
His lips curved into a charming smile. "Please, darling, I already asked you to call me Astarion."
He led you to the centre of the ballroom, where the orchestra began to play a lilting waltz. As he took you into his arms, you felt a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. His hand was warm and steady against your back, guiding you effortlessly across the dance floor.
"Miss Y/n," he began, his voice like silk. He took your hand, the other on your hip as his eyes never left yours. "You look absolutely stunning tonight. The colour suits you perfectly."
"Thank you, Astarion," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The proximity of him, the shared colour of your outfits—it all felt like a dream. "I must say, you look quite dashing yourself. It seems we have a similar taste in colours.."
He chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "It appears so. Perhaps it is fate, or merely a fortunate coincidence. Either way, I am honoured to be in such perfect harmony with you."
The music swelled around you, and the lights of the chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the ballroom. "You've become quite popular," you said, a playful note in your voice, trying to downplay your earlier jealousy.
"I didn't realise I would have to compete with so many admirers. I've become quite the target," you said, your voice shaky. "I wonder how many of these admirers would fight to have a dance with you."
Astarion laughed, the sound deep and wicked. "They're all fools, my dear. For they're fighting for what they can't have. This night, my attention..." He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers tightened on your hip, "...belongs to you, Y/n— I apologise if I didn’t have the chance to prove it to you when I arrived."
As you danced, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you and the music.
Astarion purred as he intertwined your fingers, tugging you closer. His hot breath ghosted across your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand gripped your hip, fingers digging in as he moved you to the rhythm of the music. Astarion's voice was low and velvety as he whispered in your ear, his breath sending a delicious shiver down your spine. "After all, I did promise you a dance last time we met."
You gasped, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. The intensity in Astarion's grip and the raw hunger in his voice left you breathless. "You did, Astarion." The way he led you across the floor was confident and rough in a way that was intoxicating. "But this dance... this is far more… passionate than I expected."
Astarion's eyes held yours, the depths of his gaze dark and alluring. "I've been waiting to have you all night, Y/n," he growled, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. "I find I'm craving your warmth, your touch."
You shivered, the heat from Astarion's body enveloping you. The way he spoke, the way his lips grazed your ear... it was all overwhelming. "Astarion, I... I'm not sure I can handle much more."
He chuckled, low and wicked. "Is that so? Well, I'm not one to back down from a challenge. Let's see how much more you can take." Ever so subtly, Astarion's hand trailed lower, fingers brushing along your spine before cupping your breast. A gasp escaped your lips, as his thumb found its way on your nipple adding pressure.
The dance floor swirled around you, the other guests mere shadows in the periphery. The music, the lights, the scent of Astarion's cologne—everything was heightened, more intense than you could recall. It felt so scandalous and forbidden to be touched by him like that, but it felt so good, intoxicating even.
"I've noticed you watching me," you confessed, your breath hitching.
"Is it because you want to see me squirm under the weight of the admirers?" He quipped back, Astarion's smile was wicked. "Oh, my dear Y/n. I've been watching you because all I can think about is how I'd peel off that beautiful gown and have you writhing beneath me— if you'll have me.”
The admission sent a jolt of arousal through you, mingling with the butterflies in your stomach. As if reading your mind, Astarion pulled you closer, his body pressed flush against yours. His hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging in as he moved with reckless abandon.
As the dance came to an end, Astarion placed a lingering kiss on the back of your hand before releasing you from his hold. His eyes shone with an intensity that promised a secret, scandalous adventure. "I'm going to court you, Y/n," he whispered, his voice low and smooth. "I want every breath you take to be filled with anticipation for me. Every step you take, I want you to crave my touch."
You were left breathless by his words, the weight of their implication sinking deep into your bones. Astarion's confession sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a fire within that you hadn't realised was there. "I..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.
"I don't know what to say."
Astarion's gaze held yours, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "Say that you'll let me court you," he urged, almost pleading with you, his voice a seductive melody that sent shivers down your spine. There was a daring edge to his words, a promise of adventure and passion that stirred something wild within you. In that moment, you felt a surge of reckless abandon, a desire to throw caution to the wind and follow wherever Astarion led.
"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the music. "Yes, I'll let you court me."
Astarion's smile was like a bolt of lightning, electrifying and exhilarating all at once. He took your hand in his, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Good girl, I wasn't expecting less," he whispered.
At that moment, Astarion's courtship filled you with a sense of exhilaration unlike anything you had ever known before— You knew that your life would never be the same again.
The night stretched on, each dance with Astarion feeling like a fleeting moment of bliss in an otherwise chaotic world. As the music swelled around you, you found yourself drawn deeper into conversation with him, the hours slipping away unnoticed.
"You have a talent for dancing," Astarion remarked, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he twirled you gracefully across the ballroom floor.
You couldn't help but laugh, the joy of the moment bubbling up inside you. "I suppose years of practice finally paid off," you teased, the warmth of his hand against yours sending a thrill of excitement through you.
Astarion's smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Or perhaps it's just my impeccable lead," he countered, his voice low and teasing.
You rolled your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll give you credit where credit is due," you conceded, the lighthearted banter between you easing any lingering nerves.
As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn deeper into conversation with Astarion, each exchange revealing a new layer of his charm and wit. Topics ranged from the mundane to the profound, and you were captivated by his intelligence and insight.
But just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the spell of the evening, your mother's voice cut through the music like a sharp blade, bringing an abrupt end to your conversation.
"Y/n, it's time to go," she said, her tone firm but tinged with impatience.
You exchanged a disappointed glance with Astarion, the magic of the moment dissipating in an instant. "Must we leave so soon, Mother? The night is still young."
Your mother's lips formed a thin line as she surveyed the scene before her, her eyes lingering on Astarion with a scrutinising gaze. "We have an early start tomorrow, and it wouldn't do for you to be seen lingering too long with only one gentleman."
You sighed inwardly, knowing better than to argue with her. With a reluctant nod, you turned back to Astarion, a flicker of apology in your eyes. "I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling a pang of regret at the sudden end to your evening together.
Astarion offered you a reassuring smile, his gaze soft and understanding. "There will be other nights, Y/n. And I'll be waiting for you." With that, he bowed to you, placing a chaste kiss to your ring finger.
His words sent a rush of warmth through you, easing the disappointment of the moment. With a final, lingering glance at Astarion, you allowed your mother to lead you away, the memory of the night's enchantment lingering in your mind like a sweet, intoxicating dream.
❛ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ❜
#astarion x reader#astarion#astarion ancunin#balgur's gate 3#alternate universe#crimson peak#regency#astarion x tav#cazador szarr
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Summer Lovin'
Steve Harrington x Reader (smut)
Word Count: 2,429
The blazing heat of the Hawkins' summer sun becomes too much for Steve to bear, especially when he's got you in his pool looking like every inch of his filthiest fantasies come to life.
Warnings:Smut, Steve fantasising about the reader, masturbation, hand-jobs, confessions of love, little bit of cutesy romantic fluff (I couldn't help it sorry!!) Don't hesitate to let me know if I've missed something that you want tagged!
Steve Harrington Masterlist // Masterlist
It wasn’t unusual for everyone to be gathered at the Harrington’s sprawling house, to take advantage of the sizable pool in their back garden when the midday sun of an Indiana summer became too much to bear. You and Robin wasted no time in jumping straight in, whilst Eddie laid back with his dark shades covering his eyes as he lazily floated on inflatable sun-lounger, completely unbothered by yours and Robin’s antics. The younger kids all took it in turns to dive into the pool to see who could make the biggest splash. Yes, with George and Bridget Harrington away, no-one was here to stop their only son inviting whoever he wanted to his house. Without the disapproving glare and sneer of his judgy parents, looking down at him for the company he chose to keep, Steve was free.
But what he forgot to factor in was that in inviting you over for a pool party, he would be forced to look at you in your swim-suit, and suddenly the little crush on his childhood best friend that he had been nursing for the better part of his pre-teen years and beyond, was a lot harder to ignore than it ever had been before.
It was wrong of him to want you as badly as he did. Wrong of him to think of you in his most solitary moments of pleasure, you were his best friend for crying out loud! The person who had been there for him through everything, thick and thin. And yet he couldn’t help himself as he secretly watched you from behind his dark sunglasses from the comfort of his stretched out sun-lounger. Watching as you innocently splashed around in his pool with Robin. From the way the water droplets rolled over your sun-warmed skin, to how your matching floral two-piece bikini hugged your curves so perfectly, even down to the ever so enticing way that ties of your bikini’s strings were practically calling out to him, daring him to be the one to untangle the knot, to reveal every inch of soft skin.
His ears are treated to the high-pitched squeals of laughter that if he thought about it enough could almost imagine that they were squeals of pleasure, keening whines that would tumble from your kiss-bitten lips, and there isn’t one part of him that doesn’t wish that it was him that could be the one to pull those sounds from you.
He prayed to whatever gods that were listening that the bulge of the semi he was beginning to sport was not as painfully obvious as what he felt it was. Strategically placing the long-ignored book he had been reading over the crotch of his swimming trunks, better to be safe than sorry right?
For lack of a better word Steve Harrington was well and truly fucked.
“Hey Dingus! What are you doing all the way over there? It’s your pool, why don’t you get in?” Robin shouts.
“I'm alright Rob,” he shouts back before speaking up once more. “Actually I'm going to head in, I think we're running low on drinks, don’t wait up for me okay?” He says, nodding his head towards the cooler box of beers sitting on the garden table.
They weren't running low on drinks, far from it actually, if the fully stacked cooler was anything to judge by, but Steve had to get away. Perhaps he could slip inside, race to his bedroom, get himself off quickly and be back before anyone would be any the wiser.
All he knew was that his growing erection was about to be a much larger problem if he didn't act soon.
“Did Steve seem off to you, or is it just me?” you ask, turning to Robin.
“No, he was definitely acting weird. Who knows what goes on in that boy’s mind.” She chuckles with a dismissive shake of her head.
“I think I’m just going to go check up on him, see if he’s okay.” you say to Robin, pushing up on the pool’s edge before grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself off and heading inside in search of your best friend.
Steve hot-foots it up to his room where he slams the door behind himself with a hurried huff of breath.
Reaching down, Steve pulls the waistband of his swim trunks down just enough to free his straining erection from its confines. He brings his open palm up to his lips before spitting crudely in his hand, and reaching down to glide his spit-slick fist over himself in a costing stroke over the length of him. A shuddering moan falls from his lips as his hair falls down over his eyes, squeezing himself with a light pressure when he reaches the sensitive head of his cock.
With his cock in his hand, Steve’s thoughts, as they often did in these moments, turned to you. He thought about you and how pretty you looked in your bikini, the way the wet fabric clung to every soft curve, the way your tits were pushed together so enticingly, and how the golden glow of the hot august sun shone down on your skin. He couldn’t help but think about how you and how perfect you would look on your knees for him, eagerly awaiting the feel of his pre-cum glazed tip tracing your lips.
You wander around the Harrington’s spacious kitchen, only to find it empty. Weird Steve said he was getting drinks, he should be here. Your feet carry you further into the house, quickly poking your head into the living room door, only to find it empty.
Steve must have gone upstairs, so you follow suit, but as you reach the last few steps you can’t help but hear a strange noise coming from Steve’s room. You make it outside his room, knuckles poised over the door ready to knock when you realise all too quickly that’s the deep groaning noises of pleasure coming from the other side of the door. You weren’t stupid, you knew what went on in the privacy of a boy’s bedroom, and you were about to pull away, to allow Steve the privacy he so clearly needed, but that’s when you heard it. A growled moan of your name.
Maybe you were hearing things, maybe it was a figment of your imagination, maybe some hopelessly horny part of you was hoping to hear your name falling from Steve’s lips, but then you hear it again.
“Yeah, you'd take me so good wouldn't you, Honey. Always teasing me, you'd be so good for me, just wish you were my girl” his voice stutters out with another moan of your name.
You push on the door, finding it unlocked as it slowly swings open and your eyes are treated to the most spectacular view of Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, his thighs spread wide and tensing whilst his fist strokes over his thick cock.
The creaking squeak of the door gives you away, causing Steve’s head to whip up and he hastily tries to pull his shorts back up, hoping to god that if he closed his eyes that this would all just be a surreal dream.
And yet when he peeks his eyes open from underneath the shaggy mess of his hair, there you are, a towel wrapped around your body, your boobs pushed up by the tightly pulled starchy fabric.
“I-uh…fuck…I can explain..I think?” Steve stumbled, as flustered words fell from his lips in an attempt to save face.
And with an equally embarrassed expression on your face, your words bubble from you as you try to explain yourself.
“You ran off and I wanted to make sure you were okay and I couldn’t find you, but then I heard you calling my name and I’m sorry I barged in on you, I really shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like this” you nervously babble.
“I just needed to clear my head…amongst other things, obviously. You just looked so pretty and I couldn’t help it.” Steve begins “I tried to think of other things, I swear, but you were all I could think about, you’re what I always think about.” and before he even realises it, Steve feels his closest guarded secret unburden from his heart.
“Y-you…you think about me?” you stutter.
Well, if secrets are being spilled, it’s better to come out with the full truth, no holes barred.
Bridging the space between you and Steve, you sit down next to him on the edge of the bed.
“I mean I guess there’s no use in hiding it anymore, but yeah, I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time. I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us.” His voice is suddenly small and dejected, as if he’d already shook hands and made peace with the imminent rejection he was sure to come his way.
“Well I guess I feel a little less guilty about my secret now.” you utter, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Because I feel the same way about you. Have done for a while, considering we're being honest.”
and oh suddenly like a switch has flipped in his mind Steve looks at you, really looks at you in all your easy and effortless beauty and he can't help the smile the spreads across his rosy cheeks.
“Would I be a total dork if I asked you to kiss you right now?” He flushes.
“Lucky for you, I happen to like dorks.” You smile inching your way closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies, pressing your lips against his.
This kiss starts out innocent enough, with gentle explorative pecks, but it soon becomes apparent that it's not enough for either of you, as his tongue slips between your lips and you're moaning into his mouth. The towel wrapped around your body slipping to reveal yourself to him as his hands roam every soft curve available to him. The lingering sweet scent of your coconut sun lotion filling his senses.
It's only when you're pressed up against him so closely that you're reminded of how you came to be in your current situation. His still half-hard cock pokes into your thigh as you're making out with him. An instant press of his arousal.
You reluctantly pull away from his lips, smiling to yourself when Steve chases your lips for one final taste, before his lust-hazed eyes peek open.
“You want me to help you out with that, Stevie?” You offer seductively.
Steve feels his stomach flutter with butterflies. Stevie. It was a nickname you had called him for many years, but suddenly now it all felt different. It carried a different weight now. It was suddenly much more affectionate than it had ever been before.
“Help me out with…oh…oh..” Steve flushes even more when catches on to what you were saying. “You don't have to, I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn't want to.” you say with a cheeky smile playing at your lips.
Steve shyly nods his head and mutters a soft ‘please’ and that is all the confirmation you need before you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and dragging them down his sturdy thighs.
With his cock free from his confines, you crudely let a string of saliva drool from your lips into your palm to slick your hand up before you reach down to tug your fist over his length.
“Is this okay?” you ask him, continuing to softly stroke up and down.
Steve is a picture of debauched pleasure, with his flushed face, and chest rising and falling with shuddering breaths. His hair sticks to his sweat-beaded forehead as you continue to work him over.
“Y-yeah..this is good..m-more than good” he stumbles over his words. “Feels fucking amazing.”
“Good…” you coo “I want you to feel good, Stevie.” you smile sweetly, the crude, wet sound of your slick fist gliding up his cock, and his whimpering moans echo out in the otherwise quiet bedroom.
“I’m not gonna…fuck...not gonna last long…” Steve groans, the sound nothing more than a low rumble. His breaths are quicker, as he fights against wanting to buck his hips to meet your touch.
You smile deviously as twist your fist on the upstroke, lightly squeezing his glistening pink head before coasting back down his cock, grazing your thumb along the pulsing vein that runs the length of him.
“Honey, Please…” Steve wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for at this point, all he knew was that the way that you were teasing him had him just about to explode, teetering on the edge of pleasure, ready to fall over and give in to you.
“It’s okay Stevie…” you whisper, as you press your body close to his, leaving a soft kiss on his lips. “..Want you to come for me.”
And that is Steve’s undoing, your sweet whispered words of encouragement are enough to have him spilling rope after rope of cum over your knuckles.
As he comes back down from his high, Steve fusses over the mess he’d made. Suddenly embarrassed about how badly he needed this.
But you kiss away his worries with a smile, before looking into his eyes and licking up the pearlescent drops glazing your skin.
“Fuck..you can’t just do that..” he huffs with a tired smile. “You’re going to get me going again.”
You shake your head at him with a soft laugh.
“Come on, let’s head back down before things start to look suspicious.” you say standing up and making your way towards his door.
“Wait, what about you?” his honeyed hazel eyes sparkle with desire as he looks at you. “Let me make you feel good.”
You make your way back across the room where Steve is still sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning down to him to place a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.
“I’ll let you make it up to me and then some later, I promise, right now I just wanna go enjoy the rest of my summer.” you tug him by the hand with a giggle.
Whatever had just happened between you and Steve was a new and exciting development in your relationship, and although neither of you quite knew what you were to each other yet, it didn’t matter. You had all summer to figure it out, and for now you were quite content to just have fun.
@paybacksawitch @penguinsandpotterheads @mrsjellymunson @aphrogeneias @onegirlmanytales @wroteclassicaly @rebelfell
#Steve Harrington x reader#Steve Harrington x reader smut#Steve Harrington x female reader#Steve Harrington x female reader smut#stranger things fanfiction
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No cause there is genuinely something heartbreakingly tender about how Louis decides to let go of Ghostat after choosing to not burn Armand’s photo after REALLY looking at it.
There’s a gorgeous metaphor there that by focusing on what’s no longer there he’s missing Armand’s vulnerability. Hence him telling the art critic earlier in the episode that his interpretation of Armand based on the photo was wrong.
That is until Armand takes him to the art museum and opens up about his trauma and how he hates his job and how he doesn’t know who he is truly outside of these things because they are all he has known. Then later on when Louis is facing the photo again he can see fully what this relationship is to Armand.
The entire episode Armand wants to know what they are but Louis having been traumatized by his last relationship of course is not going to jump right back into a committed relationship with a powerful vampire with sooo much power.
But Armand freely offers the vulnerability that Louis had to fight tooth and nail out of Lestat.
Lestat doesn’t tell Louis about his trauma from his creation as a vampire until it’s something that’s in the way of him being allowed back into Louis’ life. By Armand proving that he is different from Lestat, that he wants this relationship, that he would choose Louis over power. It leaves the ball in Louis court to choose if he wants this as well.
The bench scene is perfect in every sense of the word. The heartbreaking goodbye to ghostat being a representation of Louis letting go of his grief over all of Lestat’s best qualities and the things he misses about their relationship. By doing this and grieving that he’s allowing himself to commit to his relationship with Armand by later on the bench acknowledging Armand’s vulnerability from earlier in the episode by calling him Arun and Armand answering by referring to Louis with a title of power and respect.
He even is vulnerable back by saying he’s not an artist.
But Louis was wrong.
Because he is. He has the eye.
The reason why the photo is his best piece is not just because he caught a moment of what lies under Armand’s coven leader persona but also because it captured Louis’ grief in it as well. It’s a work of art because he truly captured all three subjects, the mind of the artist behind the lens, the vunerable paramour and the absent vocal point.
Louis deepest struggle is vulnerability it’s why he couldn’t tell Lestat he loved him. It’s why he reacts with anger when he’s critiqued by the art critic.
It’s why the interview failed in the 70s it will most likely be why he attacked Daniel after Daniel said “you don’t even understand the meaning of your own story.”
Louis could be a great artist if he allowed his own vulnerability to show.
The interview can be a success if he allows his vulnerability to show.
#amc iwtv#iwtv spoilers#interview with the vampire#louis de pointe du lac#the vampire armand#lestat de lioncourt#loumand#louis x armand#loustat#louis x lestat
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