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[earthlyangelbby]

In Bloom SFW for now ;) its def going somewhere 5.4k College Student-Teacher!Eddie x Innocent Plus Sized!Reader This is like an introductory chapter its fluffy!! and very yearny. Part 2

Summary: College Student-Teacher!Eddie x Innocent Plus Sized!Reader who is overcoming the strict hyper religious upbringing in a college states away where you're finally away from your strict family. Eddie is teaching a one on one classes during the school week for an hour at a time to earn credit toward his Guitar Teaching Mastery. You get sign up to be a "student" for his program. You earn extra credit toward your degree for participating.

TW: Mentions of religious trauma (brief), Hints at body image issues, and so much fluff and tension!!!!!!!

You hesitate at the door, gripping your bag. Signing up for an extra credit class was one thing, but a one-on-one lesson with a male teacher? Your parents would lose their minds if they knew. You tug at your brown skirt that barely skims your knees and adjust your white blouse, feeling scandalous compared to the ankle-length dresses you grew up wearing.

Inside, you're surprised to find a young man tossing a hacky sack into the air. With wild hair, ripped jeans, and tattoos running up his forearm.

When he notices you, he smiles. "Hey there."

"Um, this is the guitar lesson with Mr. Munson, right? I thought it was supposed to be one-on-one?"

He extends his hand. "It is. I'm Mr. Munson. Well, Eddie. Just call me Eddie."

You shake his hand hesitantly, noticing the calluses on his fingers.

He doesn't look like a student teacher at all.

You grimace, "Eddie. Sorry, you... Don't look like a teacher."

"You mean teachers don't dress this good?" he jokes, feigning offense.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that—"

He cuts you off with a chuckle. "Relax, Sweetheart. I'm just messing with you."

Eddie smirks while nodding, tapping his fingers against the chair. "Alright, let's see... I think I can guess where you're from."

You raise a brow. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking... somewhere peaches grow." He nods to himself. "If I'm right, I'm gonna call you peach."

Your face scrunches up. "Uh, no. I'm from where tulip poplars grow." You pause, watching for recognition. "Same state as the home of country music."

Eddie narrows his eyes before a slow grin spreads across his face. "Tennessee?"

You nod.

He studies you for a moment, then smiles. "Tulip. That's it. You're Tulip now."

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Oh, really? Just like that?"

"Yep. It suits you." Eddie's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling.

"So," Eddie starts, tilting his head, "do you play anything already, or are we starting from scratch?"

You nod. "Piano, a little. I can read music, and I sing, but I don't think that's necessary for guitar."

Eddie's eyes light up. "Piano? Fancy. And you sing? That's almost too tempting."

You laugh softly. "It is?"

Eddie smirks while nodding, and he taps his fingers against the chair. "Alright, let's move on to what kind of music you're into."

When he asks about your music taste, you hesitate. "Well... I only just started listening to non-worship music this past summer. My aunt let me borrow some cassettes."

"Yeah? What'd you get?"

"Madonna, Blondie, Whitney Houston, Led Zeppelin. Those were the ones she had."

At the mention of Led Zeppelin, Eddie sits up straighter. "Oh, hell yeah. Now that I can work with."

When he learns you grew up only listening to worship music, he's fascinated. You explain how you're figuring things out, mentioning the church haunted house that depicted teens who drank or had sex going to hell after car crashes.

"Damn, that's messed up," Eddie says, laughing. "I bet your mom called dancing evil, too?"

You can't help but touch his arm briefly as you laugh and agree.

After the lesson, Eddie offers to walk you back to your dorm since it's getting dark. "I think I'm gonna make this a regular thing," he says. "Walking you back after lessons."

Before heading to your dorm, he makes a detour to his van and gives you a Walkman with three cassette tapes. "Here's your homework, Tulip. Consider this lesson one in your 'Breaking Out of Being Sheltered' course."

Over the next few weeks, a rhythm develops. Eddie's touches linger when he repositions your grip on the guitar or corrects your posture. "You're still too tense, Tulip," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "You gotta loosen up."

His cassette tapes became a ritual; each lesson starts with discussing what you liked. You tell him Pink Floyd feels hypnotic and that you've been humming Led Zeppelin's "Going to California" all week.

The moments between you shift subtly, his arm over the back of your chair, his fingers skimming down your forearm, his hand settling briefly on your knee when you get frustrated.

His teasing becomes more intentional. When you fumble a chord, he nudges your knee with his own. "C'mon, Tulip, don't tell me you're getting nervous on me now."

"I'm not nervous," you insist, despite your heated face.

"Uh-huh," he drawls. "You sure? 'Cause you look like you're thinking real hard about something that ain't the guitar."

He always walks you back to your dorm, lingering at your door frame. "Gotta say, Tulip, I never thought guitar lessons would be this much fun," he says one night, smirking.

"Because I'm such a great student?"

"Nah," he replies. "It's 'cause I get to mess with you." His grin falters for a moment. "Haven't had much reason to smile lately, before these lessons started."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Later , your roommate Paisley interrogates you. "You're telling me he walks you back to the dorm every single time and you're not dating or at least hooking up?"

"We are not dating," you mumble. “Or hooking up!”

"Does he still adjust your hands on the guitar like you're made of glass?"

You nod.

"And does he still put his hand on your knee when you get nervous?"

You remember the warmth of his palm through your tights just two nights ago.

"This is excruciating," Paisley groans. "You two are living in a slow-burn romance novel." She flops onto her bed, hugging her sociology textbook to her chest. " You're killing me with this pace babe."

"I'm sorry!" you say, and it comes out much more defensive than you wanted. "He's my teac-"

She sits up suddenly, cutting you off. "And don't give me that 'he's my teacher' line again. He's a grad student, for God's sake, and it's just an extracurricular guitar class."

You sit bug-eyed as she is way too invested in your love life.

She pulls out a flower patterned purple sundress from your drawer. "Wear this. It's Friday. No curfew. Eight lessons in, he should be asking you out by now."

"He's already in this," she says gently. "He just hasn't said it yet."

As Paisley heads out, she announces, "I'm locking the door when I leave. I'm giving y'all the shove you need. If he wants to stand around talking all night again, he's gonna have to take you somewhere."

"Fine," you huff out with an eye roll, sort of enjoying the sister-like relationship you have with Paisley.

You look at yourself in the mirror, it's just a regular summer dress, but you feel like enough.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You ease the music room door open and slip inside.

Eddie's already there, bent over his guitar, one boot hooked on the rung of the chair, hair half-tied up in that careless way that shouldn't work on anyone but somehow does on him. He looks up when he hears the creak of the hinges.

"Hey, Tulip," he says, voice easy. Then his eyes catch on your dress, and something shifts in his expression, just slightly.

You glance down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious. It's not a fancy dress, not even new, just cotton, soft from wear, with small purple flowers scattered across it. Paisley pulled it from your drawer that morning. 

Eddie nods slowly. "That dress suits you."

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. "Oh. Um. Uhh. Thank you."

He grins a little wider, like he sees more than you meant to give away. "Those little purple flowers are pretty. Kind of... soft-looking. Like you."

You duck your head, busying yourself with pulling your guitar from its case. "It's just something I had."

"Well, it's working for you," he says, almost offhand, but there's something warm in his tone. He lets the moment linger for a beat, then claps his hands once. "Alright, let's see if you remember G major or if we're starting from square one."

You manage a smile, sitting down across from him. "I practiced."

"Show me."

You settle in, trying to focus on the fretboard instead of how aware you are of his knee just inches from yours. He watches your fingers closely, leaning forward to adjust your hand, painfully slow, fingers guiding yours like he's done a dozen times now. Still, the warmth of his touch makes your breath catch.

"Loosen up here," he murmurs, brushing your wrist, then your shoulder. "You're still holding tension like you're about to duel the guitar to the death."

"I don't mean to," you say, trying to laugh it off. "It's just... harder than piano."

"You'll get it." His voice is softer now, more sure. "You already are."

The lesson moves forward. Slow and steady. He corrects your posture with a quiet "There you go," taps his boot in time while you play, his focus so intent it makes your stomach flutter. The quiet between you is easy now, broken only by chords and occasional teasing.

You're adjusting the strap on your guitar when he leans back in his chair, stretches, then glances at you sideways.

"So... you got plans tonight?"

The question slips in casually, but your fingers freeze on the buckle.

"I uh- N-no," you say, carefully. "Nothing.. No plans."

He nods once, like he expected that. Then his tone goes lighter, almost like he's trying not to spook you. "You should come with me."

You blink. "Where?"

Eddie shrugs. "Nowhere fancy. Just… out. Not far. Let the night decide."

You hesitate, thumb brushing the edge of your dress.

"Nothing weird," he adds quickly. "Promise. No sketchy places."

You smile, small but genuine. "Alright. Let's go."

"Yeah?" His grin kicks up a notch. "Good. That's real good."

He stands, slinging his guitar onto his back. "C'mon, Tulip. Let's go see what kind of trouble we can find."

Eddie walks you to his van, hands stuffed in his pockets like he's trying to look casual about it, but he opens the passenger door for you like it's second nature. The door creaks when he swings it wide, and you hesitate only a second before climbing in, smoothing your dress as you settle into the cracked leather seat.

He runs around to the driver's side and climbs in, the engine rumbling to life beneath you. Music fuzzes in through the speakers something with a low bass and a slow pulse.  The night air slips through a crack in the window, carrying the scent of leaves and exhaust.

The drive is quiet at first. The roads get darker fast once you leave campus. Less and less streetlights, more tree-lined stretches with nothing but shadows and telephone poles. You stare out the window, watching them flick by.

Eddie glances at you as he turns the wheel with one hand. "You hungry?"

You nod. "Yeah. A little."

He smiles, like that's the answer he wanted. "Alright."

A few seconds pass. Then, "Are you afraid of the dark?"

You look over at him. His face is just visible in the low dash light. "No."

He whistles, impressed. "Braver than me."

You give a small smile and trace a finger along your knee. "It's just dark."

Eddie chuckles. "That's what all the horror movie girls say right before they get axed in the woods."

You roll your eyes, but your grin sticks.

He taps the wheel. "How late do you stay up?"

"Usually around eleven," you say, then glance at him. "Why?"

Eddie hums. "What if we stayed out a little later tonight?"

You blink, but your heart skips a little. "There's no curfew on Fridays."

"That's what I’m talking about sweetheart," he says, flashing you a grin. "Freedom."

He pulls into a gravel lot, the headlights sweeping across a squat little building glowing with faded neon. Sonic  flickers in red and yellow above a row of ordering windows, but there's no dining room, just a few covered spots where cars are parked, windows down, food trays balanced on half-open doors.

You lean forward slightly, peering through the windshield. "There's nowhere to sit."

Eddie kills the engine and throws an arm across the back of your seat to look at you properly. "Nope. That's the point. Just you, me, and whatever's on the radio."

He smirks. "Come on. You trust me, right?"

You hesitate for half a second, then nod.

"Good," he says, already reaching for the handle. "Let's eat then.."

You shift in your seat while Eddie leans out the window to place the order. You hadn't even really looked at the menu. You only shrug. "I'll eat whatever. Doesn't matter."

It comes out a little too fast, a little too flat, and you hate how practiced it sounds. You'd done that since you were a kid pretending you could take or leave food, like indifference could somehow shrink you. Make you easier to overlook. More acceptable.

Eddie doesn't press. Just grins. "Dangerous words to say to a guy like me. I could order liver and onions." But he doesn’t. 

"Two double cheeseburger combos," he says, then adds, "and a large fry to split. Oh! and uhh two cherry Coke floats."

You glance at him when he pulls back in. "I've never had one of those."

He raises his eyebrows. "You're in for it. Float initiation, Tulip."

Within minutes, a teenager in a greasy apron skates up and hooks the tray onto Eddie's window. Burgers, fries in a paper boat, two cherry Coke floats crowned with melting towers of whipped cream.

Eddie rubs his hands together like he's about to perform a magic trick. "God, this place is a total grease bucket. Everything tastes like it got dunked in butter and heaven."

You laugh quietly, watching him tear into his burger with enthusiasm, like it's the best thing he's eaten in his life.

He's already halfway done when he glances over at you and narrows his eyes. "Why aren't you eating?"

You shrug again, lips barely brushing the straw of your float. "I will. Just… not starving."

Eddie doesn't buy it. "You haven't touched a single fry."

Before you can respond, he plucks two from the boat, holds them up to your lips. "Open."

Your brows rise. "Seriously?"

He nods, expression completely serious, like this is a sacred ritual. "C'mon. It's not real until you get salt under your fingernails."

You hesitate just for a breath, then open your mouth. He slides the fries in, victorious.

"See? Life-changing," he declares.

You chew, not meeting his eyes, but you smile anyway. The fries are crisp and salty and stupidly good.

When you glance over again, you notice a smear of ketchup high on his cheek and mustard clinging to the corner of his mouth.

"You've got… stuff on your face," you say, reaching vaguely in the air.

Eddie looks at you with faux seriousness. "If you didn't eat little baby bites like a bird, you would too."

You cover your mouth with a hand, trying not to snort.

"You calling me messy?" he asks, mouth still half full.

"You're wearing half your dinner."

"And yet," he says, taking another huge bite, "I feel no shame."

You shake your head, hiding your grin in your float. The cherry syrup fizzes on your tongue sweeter than you expected, weirdly perfect with the ice cream and the sharpness of the cola. You take another sip, just to hide the way your heart feels louder than usual.

The van smells like ketchup, salt, and the cherry syrup in your floats. You're still finishing the last bit of your burger when a low hum of distortion slides into the air. Its familiar and hazy. That unmistakable guitar riff. Crimson and Clover.

Eddie doesn't miss a beat. He straightens up in his seat, turns toward you with mock drama and a slow grin. And then holding his straw like a microphone he croons, in a purposefully gravelly Joan Jett voice:

"Ahhh… now I don't hardly know her…"

You giggle, but then he leans a little closer, one arm slung casually behind your seat, his voice dropping an octave not serious, not quite but not entirely teasing either.

"But I think I could love her…"

Your breath catches slightly. He's still smiling, still doing the bit, but his eyes hold your gaze for a beat too long. There's a flicker in them something that makes your stomach flutter and your fingers press into the waxy edge of your burger wrapper.

"Crimson and clooova…" he drawls, nodding slightly to the rhythm. You laugh again to fill the space, nudging his arm with your shoulder like you're brushing the moment away. "You're ridiculous."

He turns back to face the windshield, grinning. "Ridiculously talented. That's what you meant."

"You're not even in key."

"I'm in spirit," he says, flicking a fry at you.

You catch it midair, and his eyebrows shoot up like you've just pulled off a magic trick. "Okay, Tulip. If the music thing doesn't work out, you've got a future in fry stunts."

You don't say anything, just smile and take a sip of your float, heart still thudding a little too fast from the way he sang that line. Silly and sweet, but… almost like he meant it.

You finish up and Eddie clears the trash out of the van. “Next stop is somewhere dark” and he gives you a big smile as he pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The lock clicks open under Eddie's hand. He shoots you a conspiratorial grin, his silhouette cast in the amber glow spilling from a corner lamp. "Welcome to Retrogroove After Dark," he murmurs, holding the door wide. "Where the real music happens."

You hesitate on the threshold, fingers curling into the hem of your sundress. The air inside is cool after the warmth of the diner, and goosebumps bloom across your bare arms. You rub them absently, hoping he doesn't notice.

Five hours ago, you were fumbling through chord changes in your lesson. Two hours ago, he'd asked, casual as anything, if you wanted to grab dinner. One hour ago, you were parked watching him dip fries into his cherry Coke float in the front seat of his van.

Now you're sneaking into a record shop.

I shouldn't be here. A small voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like your mother reminds you that good girls don't sneak into darkened stores after closing with men who have tattoos.

Eddie closes the door behind you with a soft click, flipping the lock. "Tulip," he says with that lazy grin, "Mr. Patterson gave me keys. If he didn't want me using the shop after hours, he shouldn't have trusted a guy with a permanent record in detention."

"You don't have a permanent record," you say.

He raises a brow. "You don't know that."

You can't help the smile tugging at your lips as he crosses the room and flicks on another moody lamp, flooding a section of cassette racks with soft light. The rest of the store stays shadowed, intimate. Safe.

"This is your assignment," Eddie says, turning to you and pulling a blank cassette from his jacket pocket. He tosses it gently into your hands. "Five songs. Tell me a story."

You catch the cassette, surprised by how steady your hands aren't. "What kind of story?"

"That's up to you," he says, stepping closer. "Make it about who you are. Who you were. Who you want to be. Just… don't make it boring." His smile softens, eyes flicking across your face. "I don't think you're capable of that anyway."

You glance down, suddenly too warm despite the chill. "I should be studying."

"This is studying," Eddie insists, stepping around you to reach for a tape. His hand lands lightly on your waist as he passes, a casual touch that lingers a little longer than it should. "Music appreciation, church girl."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the way your breath hitches. He disappears down an aisle, voice echoing lightly between the shelves. "Winner gets bragging rights. And maybe a song dedication."

The two of you move through the store like magnets caught in orbit. He drifts from section to section, running his fingers over the cassettes like they're familiar lovers. You try to focus, but your eyes keep sliding back to him. When you finally reach the classic rock section, he's already crouched in front of the lower shelves, flipping through tapes.

"Led Zeppelin?" he asks without looking up. "Very 'girl on the edge of a personal awakening.' Respect."

You nudge him with your knee. "Shut up."

He smirks up at you. "Make me."

You step past him, the narrow aisle forcing you close. His hand grazes the back of your thigh. Maybe by accident, maybe not. Either way, it leaves a trail of heat in its wake.

He picks up a Joan Jett cassette, studying the cover. "Too obvious?"

"She's cool," you say. "But you already sang that to me tonight."

Eddie tilts his head. "That was tonight? Damn. Time flies when you're being a dumbass in a van."

You smirk. "You’re not a dumbass. Well….." as you laugh.

"You liked it," he says, holding your gaze a second too long. "You were smiling."

You were. You still are.

You drift again, fingers brushing along cassette spines. You find Creedence Clearwater Revival. Youfreeze, memories of your dad's garage, him humming along while pretending not to be listening. You trace the label with your thumb.

"Your dad's music, right?" Eddie's voice is soft again, closer than you realized. He's beside you now, his shoulder brushing yours, like he just appeared there without warning.

You nod, surprised he remembers.

He takes the tape gently from your hand, turning it over, then gives it back, his fingers brushing yours. The contact lingers, warm and deliberate.

"I like knowing your secrets," he says.

Your breath catches. You don't look away.

He eventually steps back, but the space between you feels altered now. Tighter. Charged even.

"Better hurry, Tulip," he says, forcing his tone back to light. "Clock's ticking."

You move slower after that, lingering near him more often than necessary. He reaches over you to pull a tape from the shelf, his chest brushing your back. You pass behind him deliberately, your hand gliding across the small of his back. Each little contact feels like a game neither of you is fully admitting you're playing.

When you both finish, arms full of tapes, he nods toward the back corner.

"This way," he says, voice low. "I know where the real magic happens."

He leads you past old amps and instrument stands to a corner where a pair of worn bean bags sit beneath another warm, humming lamp. There's a stereo between them and stacks of cracked jewel cases nearby.

Eddie flops into one of the chairs like he owns the place, patting the spot beside him. "C'mon, Tulip. Time to reveal your soul."

You ease into the bean bag beside him, sinking lower than you meant to. Your shoulder bumps his. Neither of you moves.

"You ever seen one made in real time?" he asks, loading the blank into the dual deck with exaggerated care.

You shake your head. "I thought it just... copied over. Like magic."

He shoots you a grin. "That's one way to put it. Mixtape alchemy. You gotta have the right ingredients in the right order or it won't hit right. It's more like a spell than science."

You smile, watching his fingers move confidently over the buttons. "So you're a wizard now?"

He smirks. "I prefer sorcerer. Or warlock. Eddie the Enchanter has a nice ring."

You roll your eyes, but your chest feels warm. The tape begins to roll.

Soul revealing time:

1. Going to California – Led Zeppelin (You)

Because I like stories about chasing dreams.

A hazy guitar line trickles out, golden and wistful. You glance at him, nervous. "I just... liked the feeling. Like she's chasing something, even if she doesn't know what." You glance down at your hands. "I never really had dreams before. Not my own, anyway. Just the ones my parents had for me."

Eddie doesn't tease. He just nods, one knee bouncing slightly, like he gets it.

2. Crimson and Clover – Joan Jett (Eddie)

Soft like Tulip.

When this one starts, Eddie does his little bit again—sings a few words into his straw with exaggerated passion, eyes on you, grin lazy. "Crimson and clooover..."

You snort. "You're such a dork."

"Dork with taste," he retorts.

But you notice the way his voice softens just a bit at the chorus. Like he's remembering the moment earlier. Like it wasn't just a bit.

3. Midnight Special – Creedence (You)

Reminds me of quiet nights and secretly listening to music with dad.

You say it softly, and Eddie doesn't laugh or ask anything. He just leans back a little further, nodding to the beat, and lets it play out.

"You've got that CCR soul," he murmurs. "Didn't know you had it in you."

4. Just What I Needed – The Cars (Eddie)

You’ve got that energy I can't resist.

The intro hits, Eddie's grin is instant. He nods along, then glances your way. "Okay, tell me this doesn't just strut."

You smile, tilting your head. "It does. It's confident. Like it knows it's cool."

He points at you. "Exactly. Total power move. But under all that? Kind of a softie."

"Like someone I know?" you tease.

Eddie just smirks, leaning back so his knee brushes yours. "Maybe."

5. Rhiannon – Fleetwood Mac (You)

Something mysterious about it... fits the mood.

You lean your head back and close your eyes as it starts. "It sounds like wind. Or dreams."

Eddie watches you with something unreadable in his face. "You'd be dangerous with a tambourine."

You peek one eye open. "Yeah?"

He smirks. "Definitely."

6. Wild Side – Mötley Crüe (Eddie)

Because Tulip’s got a little wild in her.

The riff kicks in hard, and you sit up a little. You don't recognize it at first. Fast, brash, a little blasphemous. The lyrics are... something. Something that makes your ears go pink the longer it plays. Eddie watches the realization bloom across your face.

He tries to look innocent but fails completely. "Had to," he says, voice warm. "You've got the wild side now."

You scoff softly. "Do I?"

He leans just a little closer, eyes gleaming. "Mhm. My girl with a wild side. Not just a little church girl anymore."

The words settle over you like a spark catching kindling. Your face burns, but you don't pull away. Not even a little.

"You make it sound like I'm a whole new person," you mutter, trying to hide your smile.

Eddie's smile sharpens. "You're just getting started."

7. Bad Boy Boogie –  AC/DC

It's perfect for a bit of mischief. Like Eddie.

By now, your knees are resting against each other. Just barely touching, warm through the denim. Eddie's pinky brushes yours every so often and doesn't move.

"This one's catchy," he says, then glances sideways at you. "Am I the bad boy?"

You smirk. "You put this one on the purple tape. It's catchy but... yeah. You're the only bad boy I know."

He chuckles, pleased, and the sound settles warm in your chest.

You nudge him with your knee. "You're saying I'm predictable?"

"I'm saying you've got good taste in trouble."

8. I Think We're Alone Now – Tiffany (Eddie)

Sometimes, the best moments are just between us.

You recognize this one right away, and for a second it's like being in your room again with a cassette Eddie left you, playing it late at night, your heart beating too fast.

He watches you closely. "This one's just fun."

You know it's more than that, but you don't say it.

9. Rebel Rebel – David Bowie (You)

Because Eddie being a little rebellious is fun.

When you cue it up, you try not to smirk. "This one reminded me of you."

Eddie raises a brow. "Oh yeah?"

You nod, faux-serious. "You've got that Bowie kind of strut."

He puts a hand to his heart. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

10. Thank You – Led Zeppelin (Eddie)

Just a little appreciation for good company.

He doesn't say anything when he hits play. He just leans back, closer this time, shoulder brushing yours. You let it happen.

And maybe it's the warmth, or the music, or just Eddie being Eddie. But it's hard not to imagine what it'd be like if he did move closer still. If you did.

But neither of you do.

Not yet.

The tape clicks off, and Eddie finally breaks the quiet. "That," he says, "is a masterpiece."

You look at him, smile softly and small and way too hopeful. "Yeah. Kinda is."

Eddie pops the finished tape out of the deck and slides it into a case with the kind of care people usually reserve for something priceless. Before he hands it to you, he scrawls something across the label in black ink.

You lean in to read it and laugh softly.

Tulip & Eddie's First Mixtape

Complete with a wonky little smiley face drawn next to it.

"Very official," you say, trying to sound nonchalant, even though your heart's doing a weird little somersault.

Eddie grins and taps the label with his pen. "Gotta mark the moment. First of many, hopefully."

You pretend not to hear that last part, but your cheeks go warm.

He glances at the clock on the stereo and whistles. "Christ. one-thirty?"

"What?" You sit up. "No way."

He holds his hands up. "Time flies when you're building audio masterpieces."

You're still blinking at the clock, like that could possibly be right, when Eddie starts sliding the cassettes into the "go-back" bin, patting them like old friends. Outside, the night is quiet and thick with summer air. Eddie unlocks the van and swings the passenger door open for you with a dramatic flourish. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

You snort and climb in. "You're so extra."

He shrugs as he circles to the driver's side. "Extra charming."

As the van rumbles to life, the newly made mixtape hums through the speakers. Led Zeppelin filters through the warm dark as street lights blur by the windows. The drive is filled with dumb jokes and half-sung lyrics, the kind of light, effortless chatter that feels like it could stretch on forever.

You're still laughing about Eddie's terrible David Bowie impression when he pulls up to the dorms. Before you can even reach for the handle, he hops out and jogs around to open your door.

"How gentlemanly," you say, a little breathless.

He bows, low and goofy. "Only the best."

You step out, and he falls into step beside you. Your dorm hallway glows in the distance, and your footsteps echo softly on the walkway.

"Seriously," Eddie says after a moment. "Thanks for hanging out tonight. This was... the most fun I've had in a while."

You look at him and catch a softness there, less smirk, more real. "Me too," you say, quieter than you meant to.

By the time you reach your door, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. There's a long beat where neither of you moves. He's standing close, his eyes on yours. You feel your heart drumming up into your throat.

He's going to kiss me. Runs through your mind as you take in his pretty brown eyes.

But then he just smiles, a little awkwardly. "Goodnight, Tulip." Then he steps to the side and then he's walking away.

You swallow your disappointment and manage a nod. "uh- Night, Eddie."

You turn toward the door, heart stuttering, and then………..

"No. Wait," It sounds a bit desperate.

You freeze, spinning back just as Eddie jogs back to you. He's out of breath, grinning in that reckless way that always makes your knees a little weak.

"Almost forgot something."

And before you can say anything, he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. His hands find yours and squeeze. The kiss is gentle. Warm. His lips are slightly chapped but soft. Enough to make your chest ache.

He pulls back eyes on yours, hands still in yours as he rubs little circles, "Goodnight," he says again, voice soft this time. "For real this time."

"Goodnight." It comes out squeaky and you hate that. But he smiles and backs away slowly, walking backward for a few steps until your hands fall apart then he turns to walk away.

You immediately go inside and press your back to close the door. Breathless and soaking it in. 

Sorry I know I posted about this one in February and its May now. My life totally and completely changed and I haven't had that much time but I should have more now! I promise it'll get better!! this is just the very needed intro :) thanks for reading!! Taglist: @paleidiot @ali-r3n @ilovecowboysyouknowthat @spookybabey @exploding-bonbon @am0iur @taniamunson

@emxxblog @api0calisse @twihard08 @shadowhuntyi

[pelawennight]

🖤 SHADOWBOXING AND SARCASM

A Gotham Phantom One-Shot (Part 4)

by PelawenNight

🗒️ Summary:

Danny Fenton is trying to keep up with Cassandra Cain’s hand-to-hand combat training — no ghost powers allowed. What starts as a serious sparring session quickly devolves into playful banter, accidental ghostly mishaps, and a rare tender moment between them. Just when things start to settle, Cassandra’s brothers crash the “date” with a classic Bat-family “shovel talk.”

.........

The old Gotham University gym smelled like sweat, leather, and a faint trace of something old and dusty—like forgotten ghosts of previous athletes. Dust motes danced in the sparse shafts of sunlight filtering through grimy windows, illuminating the worn mats and scuffed punching bags. Danny Fenton bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, gloves half-laced, trying to look like he belonged in a hand-to-hand sparring session. He felt profoundly out of his element. His usual fights involved phasing through walls and firing ecto-blasts, not dodging actual, solid fists. He’d agreed to this because Cass had asked, and frankly, anything she asked, he’d probably do. But he was starting to question his life choices. This wasn't exactly the "normal college experience" he'd envisioned when he moved to Gotham. Then again, nothing in his life was ever truly normal.

Cassandra Cain stood opposite him, serene and unshaken. Her stance was flawless, her eyes calm but alert, ready to spring at any moment. She wore simple black athletic wear, a stark contrast to Danny's slightly too-big gym shorts and faded t-shirt. Every line of her body spoke of coiled power and effortless control. Danny, despite his nervousness and the impending physical humiliation, found himself admiring her. She was graceful, precise, and utterly captivating. He still couldn’t believe she was his girlfriend.

Danny swallowed, adjusting his ill-fitting boxing gloves. The air felt thick with unspoken potential. “Are you sure this isn’t a trap, Cass? This is exactly how horror movies start. Attractive girl lures dumb boy to an abandoned gym. Next thing you know, I’m the monster of the week, or worse, the first victim.” He tried for a lighthearted tone, a nervous tic. His heart was already doing a frantic jig against his ribs.

Cass smirked, a tiny, almost imperceptible curve of her lips that only Danny, after months of careful observation, could discern. She didn’t break eye contact. Instead, she gestured with one hand, slicing the air with effortless grace, an invitation. Come at me.

Danny sighed dramatically, trying to project exasperation rather than genuine trepidation. “Alright, alright, don’t mind if I do. Just try not to permanently rearrange my internal organs. I need those for, you know, living.” He charged forward, throwing a sloppy jab, more a hopeful lunge than an actual punch, that Cass easily sidestepped. He felt the faint whoosh of air as she moved, a phantom sensation that was almost as frustrating as the miss itself.

“Nice try,” she said quietly, her voice a soft murmur that was barely audible above Danny’s own heavy breathing.

He tried again. Punch. Dodge. Block. Danny’s form was… enthusiastic, but not exactly graceful. He moved with the raw, untamed energy of a brawler, relying on instinct and speed rather than technique. He was fast, surprisingly fast for a human, but Cass was faster. Much faster. She was a whisper of motion, always a step ahead, her movements economical and precise. He swung, she ducked. He feinted, she countered. He stumbled backward, rubbing his ribs where her foot had lightly, yet firmly, connected. It wasn't a hard kick, but it was perfectly placed, designed to remind him of his own clumsiness.

“Wow. Okay, that’s my spleen. I think it just sent a strongly worded letter to my brain,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Could you maybe say hi to it next time? Give it a heads-up?”

Cass didn’t laugh out loud, but the ghost of a smile, a genuine flicker of amusement, curved her lips. She moved around him, her dark eyes assessing, always assessing. He could feel her gaze, dissecting his every move, anticipating his next clumsy lunge.

“Do you come with subtitles?” Danny continued, trying to distract himself from the dull ache in his side and the crushing reality of his inadequacy. “Because I swear you moved and I didn’t see it. It’s like you blink-teleported or something. Are you secretly a speedster? Because that would explain a lot. And frankly, make me feel a little better about getting my butt kicked.”

Cass’s eyes flickered with amusement, but there was something else—an almost imperceptible softness in her gaze, a rare warmth that was reserved just for him. She liked his banter, his clumsy attempts, his sheer, unyielding spirit. She saw past the flailing limbs to the determination in his eyes.

Danny tried to hide his growing frustration behind a grin. He was a ghost king , for crying out loud. He could fly, turn invisible, phase through walls, shoot ecto-blasts. He fought interdimensional threats on a daily basis. But in a straight-up, human fistfight, he was getting thoroughly schooled by his ballerina girlfriend. “I’m clearly not built for this ‘non-ghost’ combat thing,” he mumbled, trying to sound self-deprecating rather than genuinely annoyed. “Maybe I should just stick to floating through walls and possessing inanimate objects. Much less painful.”

Cass paused for a beat, watching him. Her voice dropped to a softer tone, a rare moment of direct encouragement. “You’re better than you think.” She stepped closer, her hand moving to his shoulder, then gently guiding his elbow. “Elbow in. Hip turn. Follow through.” She demonstrated a simple jab, her movement fluid and powerful, yet slow enough for him to follow. “Power from ground. Not just arm.”

Danny nodded, trying to absorb the instruction, focusing intently on her movements. “Elbow in, hip turn, power from the… ground. Got it. Like… channeling my inner tectonic plate? Or maybe a really angry badger?” He tried the jab, focusing on her guidance. His elbow tucked in, his hip rotated, and he felt a surprising surge of power, though his follow-through was still a bit wobbly. He nearly overbalanced, but caught himself. “Whoa! Okay, that actually felt like something! Like I might actually hit something other than air next time!”

Cass gave a small, approving nod, a tiny flicker of pride in her eyes. “Good. Again.”

He tried again, and again, each time feeling a little more control, a little more connection between his feet and his fist. He was still clumsy, but there was a nascent strength emerging, a flicker of potential that even he could feel. He was actually learning .

Danny squared up again, a spark of determination igniting in his chest. This time he was going to land a hit. He dodged left, then right—then panicked as his body suddenly phased, slipping partially through Cass’s outstretched hand as she moved to block. His arm went transparent for a split second, passing through her, a cold, tingling sensation.

His eyes went wide, a cold dread washing over him. Oh no. Oh no no no. Not now. Not here. Not with Cass. He quickly pulled his arm back, trying to make it look like a clumsy stumble, shaking his hand as if he’d merely misjudged the distance. He forced a laugh that sounded a little too high-pitched. “Whoa! Clumsy me! Slippery hands, I guess! My grip just… gave out!” He forced another laugh, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. “Too much ramen, maybe? Or maybe I need to lay off the ecto-marshmallows. Uh, I mean, regular marshmallows. Yeah. Regular.” He winced internally. Smooth, Fenton. Real smooth.

Cass blinked slowly, her expression unreadable. Her eyes, however, lingered on his hand for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She noticed. Danny could feel it, even if she didn’t react. The faintest glint in her eyes said she’d definitely noticed the phase. And she wasn't going to let him off the hook for it. Not entirely.

Before he could panic further, she swiftly swept his leg and, in one fluid motion, had him on his back on the mat. Before he could even register the fall, she was straddling his hips, her knees lightly pinning his legs, her hands braced on either side of his head. Her body, warm and lithe, was pressed against his, the soft fabric of her athletic wear a thin barrier. Her dark eyes, usually so calm, held a spark of triumph, and a hint of something else entirely. The air between them crackled with a sudden, unexpected tension that had nothing to do with sparring.

Danny, gasping for breath, his mind reeling from the sudden intimacy and the surprise of the pin, groaned, “Okay, that was cheating. You blink-teleported. I swear you did. That’s the only explanation. You were there, then you were here . It’s a classic move, I’ve seen it in… uh… cartoons.” He tried to sound indignant, but mostly sounded winded and acutely aware of her weight on him.

Cass tilted her head, a familiar, knowing smirk playing on her lips. No words. But the faintest glint in her eyes said she’d definitely noticed the phase. And she wasn't going to let him off the hook for it. The unspoken challenge, and the undeniable romantic tension, hung in the air.

She leaned in slightly, her voice a low murmur, barely audible. "Again. Get up."

Danny groaned, the sound muffled by the mat. "Again? Cass, I think my soul just tried to leave my body. I'm pretty sure that counts as a win for you." He looked up at her, pleading. "Can't we just call it a draw? Or maybe I win for surviving?"

C ass's smirk widened. She didn't move. Her eyes held his, a silent, unwavering demand.

With a dramatic sigh that seemed to deflate his very being, Danny pushed against the mat. "Fine, fine! Tyrant. You're a tyrant, you know that? A beautiful, terrifying tyrant." He slowly, painfully, pushed himself up, still feeling the phantom pressure of her knees on his hips. He wobbled slightly as he regained his footing. "One more round. Then I'm officially declaring myself a pacifist."

Cass gave a small, satisfied nod. She dismounted him with effortless grace, stepping back into her ready stance. This final round was shorter, more brutal, a test of his endurance. Danny pushed himself, fueled by a mix of stubbornness and the desire to impress her, but his movements were sluggish, his defenses weak. Cass moved like a shadow, a blur of precision, landing a series of quick, light taps that left him breathless and thoroughly defeated.

Finally, she stopped, her chest barely heaving. Danny, on the other hand, was bent double, hands on his knees, gasping for air, sweat dripping onto the mat.

"Done," Cass stated, her voice calm, a hint of finality in it.

Danny straightened up slowly, rubbing his aching side. "Thank. Goodness. For. That." He managed to wheeze out.

Later, they sat on the bench, sweat-soaked and bruised. Danny, sweaty and flopped on the padded floor, groaned dramatically. “Okay. We get it. You’re perfect. You win. Again. My dignity has officially left the building.”

Cass, sitting cross-legged beside him with not a single strand of hair out of place, calmly handed him a water bottle. “You almost got me.”

Danny raised a brow, a skeptical look on his face. “Cass. You literally kicked the staff out of my hand, disarmed me, and then choked me with my own hoodie. I think ‘almost’ is a very generous interpretation of that sequence of events.”

“…Almost.”

He chuckled, letting his head thump back against the mat. “I think I sprained my dignity. And possibly a few other things. Maybe my will to live.” He took a long swig of water, then added with a dry chuckle, “Guess I should stop expecting to be good at everything the moment I try. My parents always said I was a natural at everything. Clearly, they were lying.”

“You are good enough for me,” Cass repeated, her voice softer this time, a quiet declaration that made Danny’s heart do a little flip-flop. She carefully dabbed at a scrape on Danny’s cheek with a cloth she’d pulled from her bag. Her touch was feather-light, almost imperceptible, but incredibly precise. A blush raised across Danny’s face at her casual words, a warmth that had nothing to do with exertion.

“How are you so good at this?” Danny asked quietly, genuinely curious. He looked at her, her calm demeanor, her effortless movements. “It’s like… you’re a professional. Like you do this for a living or something. Are you secretly a ninja? Because I’m starting to suspect you’re secretly a ninja.”

She shrugged, eyes distant for a moment. “Practice. Need it.”

Danny nodded. He knew she was a world-class ballet dancer, and that required immense discipline and physical prowess. But this felt different. More… dangerous. More intense. He let the thought go. He had his own secrets, after all, big glowing green ones. He couldn't exactly push for hers.

Before Cass could respond, the door creaked open, slowly, ominously.

Danny glanced over and froze. “Um. Cass. Why are there three dudes who look like they could be in a leather-jacketed boy band standing in the doorway? And why do they look like they’re about to drop a diss track on my life choices?”

Cass barely blinked, her gaze unwavering. “Brothers.”

“Oh cool,” Danny said, then did a double take, his eyes widening. “Wait, all three?! You have three brothers?!” He knew about Jason, of course, but three? He tried to remember if Cass had ever mentioned more. His mind was still a little fuzzy from the sparring.

Dick Grayson stepped forward first, the picture of charm in civilian wear. He had a sunny smile that absolutely didn’t reach his eyes, which were sharp and analytical, taking in every detail of Danny’s bruised, sweaty state. He crouched beside Danny, his gaze assessing.

“Hey there, Danny,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too friendly. “We heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with our baby sister. And apparently, she’s been trying to kill you.” He glanced at Cass, a playful accusation in his tone.

Danny sat up a little straighter, suddenly acutely aware of his sweat-soaked clothes, the faint bruise on his cheek, and the fact that he was currently sitting on a gym mat looking like he’d been run over by a truck. “Uh… yeah. She keeps trying to kill me. It’s going great. Five stars. Would recommend. Very… invigorating. Builds character, you know?”

Jason Todd leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression flat, but a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. He was observing Danny with an intensity that made the hairs on Danny’s neck prickle. “That a complaint, or a kink, Fenton?”

Danny blinked. “Too soon, man. Way too soon. We just met. And for the record, neither. It’s called ‘character building through extreme physical discomfort.’ Look it up.” He shot a glance at Cass, who remained impassive, though a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth suggested amusement.

Tim Drake , the only one holding a tablet, didn’t even look up from whatever he was typing, his fingers flying across the screen. He spoke with the detached air of a clinical researcher. “Statistically, anyone who dates Cass either disappears, changes their name, or transfers schools. Just letting you know. The data is fairly conclusive.”

Danny blinked again, a genuine chill running down his spine. “Wait, what? Is that a threat? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a threat. And also, rude. I’m right here. And I’m not changing my name. Fenton is a brand. A chaotic, slightly dangerous brand, but a brand nonetheless.” He looked from Tim’s impassive face to Dick’s too-wide smile. “And ‘disappears’? What does that even mean? Like, witness protection? Or… disappears disappears?”

Jason pushed off the wall, stepping closer, towering a bit over Danny. His voice dropped, a low, gravelly rumble that was meant to intimidate. His eyes, dark and piercing, fixed on Danny’s. “We’re just here to make sure you know the rules. You break her heart, ghost powers or not, we will find you.” The last part was delivered with a slow, deliberate emphasis, a predatory glint in his eyes, a clear warning.

Danny’s brow furrowed, but a mischievous glint entered his own blue eyes. He met Jason’s gaze, a faint, respectful smirk playing on his lips. He understood the ritual. He’d seen enough movies. This was the “shovel talk.” And honestly, it was kind of hilarious, in a terrifying sort of way. “Ghost—what now? Is that like a new band? Because I’m pretty sure I’m more of a rock-and-roll kind of guy, not… whatever ‘ghost powers’ implies.” He paused, then added, with a perfectly straight face, a hint of his inner troll shining through, “But hey, I appreciate the concern. It’s sweet, really. Very… protective big brother energy. I get it. My sister Jazz is the same way, only with more psychology terms and less leather. Though she does have a proton pack, so, you know, equal opportunity intimidation.”

Jason’s dangerous grin faltered, replaced by a look of bewildered annoyance. He ran a hand through his hair. “Figure of speech, kid. Just… a figure of speech. Don’t overthink it.”

Danny nodded sagely. “Right. Well, if I do break her heart – and let’s be clear, I have no intention of doing that, she’s amazing, and also terrifyingly good at hand-to-hand combat, so I’m pretty sure she’d break me – you’ll have to get in line behind my parents, three actual ghosts, a cafeteria ghost I accidentally banished, and my AP Calc teacher. It’s a pretty long queue, actually. So, you know, maybe bring a book. Or snacks.” He looked deadpan at Jason. “Good luck with that queue, buddy. It’s a real commitment.”

Tim, finally looking up from his tablet, blinked. “…He’s weird. I kinda like him. He knows how to deflect. And his self-preservation instincts are… surprisingly robust for someone so sarcastic.”

Danny sighed again, more dramatically this time, pushing himself off the mat. “I’m in college now, man. Can I not be bullied by my girlfriend’s entire family? I just wanted to learn how to throw a punch without dislocating a shoulder. Is that too much to ask?”

Dick grinned, a flash of genuine amusement in his eyes. “No. Welcome to the family, Danny.”

Cass appeared beside Danny, silent as death. The boys immediately stepped back like they'd been caught lighting fireworks inside the Batcave, their intimidating postures dissolving into awkward shuffling.

Cass looked at Danny, then at her brothers. “Done?”

Jason nodded solemnly, still looking slightly flustered by Danny’s last comment. “We said the thing.”

Tim added, “He survived it.”

Dick shrugged. “And he didn’t cry.”

Cass turned to Danny, a faint, soft smile on her lips. “Want ice cream?”

Danny stood, ignoring the lingering aches, and pointed at her brothers without looking away from her. “Yes. Let’s get ice cream. Away from these psychos. And maybe somewhere close? My entire body hurts.”

Cass nodded. “Okay.”

As she walked past her brothers, they all subtly moved aside. Danny followed, shooting a nervous glance at Jason. Jason just winked, a mixture of exasperation and grudging respect in his eyes.

Danny muttered under his breath, “Gotham’s so freaking weird.”

📝 Author’s Note:

I don’t own these characters—just borrowing them to play! This crossover is a love letter to both the Danny Phantom and Batman fandoms. Thanks for reading and letting me throw Danny into chaos with the Batfam 💥 If you enjoyed it, drop a comment or send an ask!

[thecutestgrotto]

Chrome NSFW Ahead

[ranchracoon]

"Devour" Ch. 21: We Got You

Master Post

Chapter 20

“Dani…are you sure about this?” You ask hesitantly.

“Of course! I cut my hair all the time!” She giggles.

“Your hair doesn’t grow!” You scowl.

“True…but I’ve read a lot of books on it! Plus, you practically buzz your hair off anyway so this won’t be any different.”

“We have to cut the mats off first, Daniela.” Intercepts Bela.

Your head lays against the warm tile of the bathtub, above you stands Daniela with a pair of scissors and a straight razor in her hands. After a begrudging sigh you nod your head to give her the go ahead and shut your eyes. Daniela squeals and plops behind your head, her hands comb through what hair she can by using the bath water to wet it. The scissors cut away the matted hair and thin it down to where it is easy to shave.

“Okay, I need you to stay absolutely still. I don’t want to cut you.” She warns.

“It’ll heal.” You quip.

“It’s the principal!”

She smacks your head lightly with the tips of her fingers before lifting your head. Your shoulders tense as the razor grazes over your scalp, she collects the hair on the side of the tub and goes agonizingly slow. When she finishes you hear the razor softly clatter off to the side and her cold hands brush through the short cut length that's left. The sides and back are shaved down to nubs, which leaves less than a fourth of an inch of hair length left, but she managed to save more hair on top so your hair isn’t completely shaved down. You open your eyes and lean your head back to look up at her, she smiles at you lovingly before bending over to give your head a kiss.

“Thank you princess.” You whisper.

“Mm I like it when you call me that.” She teases.

You chuckle and lift your head to look at Cassandra who runs her fingertips over your hand while resting her head on your shoulder. Bela steps into the water and carriedsa wash rag in her hand. She pours an intoxicating scent over it then approaches you and begins to scrub the months of grime off.

“I can wash myself Bela.”

“I don’t think so, you need to save your energy. It’s like trying to scrape off the dried blood down in the cellar. ” She groans.

“That could be it, or I think you’re using it as an excuse to touch my body because you like bathing me.” You tease.

Bela glares at you but says nothing and pours water over your head to rinse off the soap, Cassandra lifts her head away in time and laughs. With a smile you lean over and kiss her head, she wraps her arms around you and holds you tighter. Bela finishes scrubbing your face and upper body then washes herself as Daniela stripped and joined all of you. Daniela eyes you with a smirk as she floats over through the water and slips one knee between you and Cassandra, and the other on the other side of you to straddle your lap. Cassandra hisses at her making Daniela roll her eyes while her arms snake around your neck and kisses all over your face.

You wrap your free arm around her waist and keep her against your body. Bela scoots to your free side and cuddles up to you. You rest your head back again, tears spill over and down your cheeks. Their purrs vibrate your chest and despite their cold bodies, they radiate warmth and love over every inch of your being.

“What’s the matter?” Asks Daniela.

The other two look up at you, you hiccup and gasp softly as you tried to catch your breath. After failing miserably to hold your feelings back, the flood gates open. They shoot up, making the water from the tub overflow over the edges onto the floor. Daniela moves off your lap thinking she hurt you but you manage to chuckle through the tears.

“I’m so happy to be home. I missed you all so much that I keep thinking that this is all just a dream…” you choke out.

Bela reaches out and cups your face before she gently pulls you forward to kiss your lips. You sigh into it and push into the kiss. You both linger there for a moment until she moves away and brushes your tears away with her thumbs. Carefully she aids you in standing up so she can fully embrace you. Your body relaxes, using her as support as every inch of her body melts into yours.

“This isn’t a dream, little one. We’re right here and we love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Daniela, who is too impatient, throws herself at you the second Bela clears the way,. She traps your waist with her legs while you hold her up by gripping her thighs. She kisses you multiple times until you laugh, she goes over your face and neck and when she's satisfied with the amount of kisses you received, she let's go.

“I love you.” She beams.

“I love you too.”

Cassandra looks at the water while hugging herself, you approach her slowly and tilt your head down to meet her eyes. They're wet but no tears have fallen yet. She sways her hair to hide her face but you still see her lip quiver ever so slightly. You embrace her as tightly as you can muster, she muffled her sobs with your neck as her hands trace over the indents of your spine and ribs. Quietly you shush her and rub her back soothingly until she settles down, she grabs your face hard enough that her nails dig into your skin. She slams her lips against yours and keeps them there for an eternity. You don't ’t pull back, instead you lean into it and push against her. Your breaths quickened but you're interrupted by Bela tapping your shoulder. Turning your attention to her, Cassandra hides her face on the other side of yours.

“Easy tiger. Once you’re recovered we’ll each have our turn with you.” She winks.

Heat rushes your cheeks but you nod in agreement. After the bath you eat, they drink some cups of wine with a few meaty strips from your plate. With a full belly, you stretch out onto the bed that feels like a cloud from paradise. The exhaustion from the months and especially the last day has caught up to you and you no longer want to fight it. Daniela spoons your side, Bela spoons the other, and Cassandra carefully lays on top of you with her head tucked under your chin.

The next couple of weeks pass in a flash compared to the sluggish pace they had previously gone. You avoid Lady Dimitrescu at every cost, unsure if she's still upset with you or not. The second you hear her heels you dart off in the other direction until you find safety with one of your loves or inside one of their rooms. They have gotten back to their duties, but whenever one is free they follow you around like ducklings, you tease them but secretly love every second of it. One morning you and Daniela are in the library, you're working out under her watchful eye so you don’t overdo it. Thanks to your mutation, you're almost back to normal from consistently having meat, blood, and actual food rather than leftover scraps. However, your body mass and muscles may have returned, but your stamina and endurance are still shit. Climbing up a single flight of stairs tires you out.

Daniela rests on your back with her elbow on your head and her feet by yours as you do push ups and planks, she purposely made herself heavy enough for you to feel her but light enough she won’t cause much resistance. This is your routine: you haven’t gotten any word about returning to work, so you spend your spare time running away from Lady Dimitrescu and gaining back what you lost. Daniela sighs dramatically and flails on top of you with her arms outstretched on either side of your head as you continue to move.

“Something on your mind princess?” You ask.

“How much longer are you going to avoid Mother?”

“Forver if I can help it. I can only imagine how she’s feeling. She finds out I’m dating all three of you, then I go missing and break your hearts, then I attack her and then I go right back to dating her daughters. If I were her I would be pissed.” You reply.

She groans, “this castle is only so big. You cant hide from her forever. Yeah she's probably mad but, she won't hurt you. The longer you drag it out the worse it'll be.”

“See, you say that, then I end up disemboweled and strung up in the garden.” You retort.

She snorts and shifts in her swarm so she's on her belly on your back, she props her elbows on your shoulders and hums softly. She swings her feet back and forth as she comfortably touches you.

“That’s reserved for stupid man-things. I don’t actually know what she'll do to you. Maybe she'll come up with a whole new punishment. "

Your eyes widen and you drop to your stomach with an audible thud, Daniela yips and appears in front of you on the ground as she looks over your face. You release a heavy groan from the impact but slowly raise your head to look at her beautiful, golden, eyes staring right back at you.

“I…I’ll talk to your mother when I’m ready to face her again. I promise. I just want to enjoy my last moments on Earth."

Eventually the girls allow you back into your old room after some major sucking up and hefty promises. After you're certain Lady Dimitrescu is on the other side of the castle you sneak your way through the courtyard and up toward your room. Your room is how you expected it to look, everything covered in a thick layer of dust, even the spiderwebs on the ceiling have dust on them. When you open the closet your heart sinks when moths flutter out and you're left with the crumbs of your old uniforms. Luckily Cassandra had hoarded a few of your other outfits but you're a bit upset to say the least, you really liked those uniforms and Donna put a lot of effort into them.

You push the sleeves of your collared shirt up, and sneak down to the supply closet to gather some cleaning supplies. At least that is still the same. The mops still hang on the right, the brooms on the left, the buckets neatly stacked in the corner and the shelves lined with towels and cleaner. A few hours later Cassandra strolls by and startles you when she coughs to get your attention. You clutch the mop handle against your chest as you stare at her and clear your throat. Her golden glare sends a shiver down your spine, if you weren’t dating her she probably would have killed you just from her angered look alone.

“It’s not what it looks like.” You start.

“Oh it’s not?” She asks sarcastically.

She stalks inside the room, stepping over the bag of garbage and around the mop bucket before she halts in front of you. She leans forward and yanks the mop from your hands before effortlessly throwing it into the bucket of water. She crosses her arms and you gulp but maintain eye contact with her.

“Because to me, it looks like you’re cleaning when you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“Um…old habits die hard?” You shrug shoulders.

“Oh Mother Miranda it's a good thing you're cute." She rolls her eyes.

You chuckle and reach up to kiss her, she returns the kiss happily as she presses into you. You constrict your arms around her and hold her close to your body, breathing in her comforting scent. Suddenly she jerks away and you whimper, she giggles mischievously and bops your nose with her pointer finger.

“I missed you an awful lot Y/N. You have no idea how much I want to show you, but not now. Please don’t overdo it.” She warns before disappearing.

You huff and run your hand over your head to wipe the sweat away. Much later you finish cleaning your old room, it looks good as new, well…it looks good. You toss the bag of garbage into the bin outback near the kitchen, then pause on your way back. Instead of going back to your room you decide to take a detour through the kitchen. To your surprise there are a lot of servants running around in it. They have different uniforms than what you were familiar with and they don’t have the Dimitrescu crest on them. You expected there had to have been someone working down here, your girls bring you food every day and they certainly didn’t cook it. One servant approaches you with a genuine, kind smile.

“Happy to see you up and about my lady. What can I do for you?” She asks.

You shake your head and blink, surprised by the formality “oh nothing I was just curious to see who was down here, and thank them for making me meals. They were delicious. May I ask, who are all of you?”

The woman smiles broader, she looks around your age with vibrant green eyes and bronze hair, but the lines around her face give her a much older appearance. She wears a bright red blouse with a full white apron and a long green skirt that covers her ankles. All the other staff members have similar outfits with variations of pants vs skirts, button ups vs blouses, and some staff have full aprons while others only have waist aprons.

“Oh! Please excuse me for not introducing myself, my lady.” She bows, “I’m Lilla, the personal servant to the Baroness and we are her traveling staff. We were invited by Lady Dimitrescu after your unfortunate accident, and will be here until further notice.”

You stare at her perplexed, “I see. Why do you keep calling me ‘my lady’?” You ask.

Lilla opens her arms to move you out of the kitchen area as other members of the staff scurry past. Back in the dining room she flattens out her apron then looks back up at you. From the close proximity you catch an unusual smell, it doesn’t smell like anything you recognize. However a deeper part of you somehow knows it's not human.

“I apologize if I used the incorrect pronoun to address you by. Lady Dimitrescu informed us that you are to be treated and addressed with the same respect as her daughters. However, if you do not wish to be referred to as ‘lady’ then I would be happy to accommodate whichever title you deem fit.”

“No, that's fine but there's really no need for such formality. I would much prefer that you just use my name.” You answer.

Lilla nods and bows to you again, “ understood. Now, I don’t mean to come off as rude or offensive but I do need to help finish dinner.”

You say goodbye to Lilla then ponder yourself as you venture into the main hall. Clearly you have a lot to catch up on and a lot to get used to. More importantly, you need to know why Lilla and the others don't smell human. You pause in your tracks at the sound that you’ve successfully avoided since your return: those infernal heels. You peer down the stairwell toward the Hall of Four, standing in the doorway to her quarters is Lady Dimitrescu and the baroness. The Lady kneels to the same height as the baroness, giving her the briefest kiss upon her cheek. Upon standing you and the Lady lock eyes; your muscles tense, sweat instantly manifests, your legs feel glued to the floor.

Yet, she says nothing. Instead she gives a final look down to the baroness then disappears down the hallway. You unclench and start to breath again while watching the other woman walk away to the hallway that leads to the carriage gate. She briefly takes a look at you, and you her without exchanging a word. No point in delaying now that she saw you. You walk down the steps, open the door, through the hallway and stop in front of the door to her seating area. It feels like only yesterday you were hauling fire wood in the early hours of morning. You raise your first to knock but before it strikes you hear her voice coaxing you inside.

You click the handle and open the door, stepping through and closing it behind you with a soft click. She's sitting at the couch in front of you with her back facing you, she brings a glass to her lips and takes a slow sip from it. You eye the hole in the fireplace as a way of reassuring yourself it's still there at least should you need to escape.

"I'm not going to hurt you, but if you are ready to talk then sit down. If you're not then you may go. I won't push you to discuss anything you don't want to."

Cautiously you walk to the love seat across from her and sit down. She stars at you for a moment, her eyes examining your reaction, your body language, she probably even reads the micro changes in the air around you. After her staring contest she reaches for the side table where her cigarette holder and cigarette box lay. When she decides and put one in the holder, she brings up her lighter and lights it to life then takes a long, deep inhale. The smoke blows out her nose at a creeping pace, it travels from her nose and down her chin before evaporating into nothingness.

“Do you want to talk about the events that have transpired recently? Or the factory?" She asks softly.

You perk your head in confusion and surprise, the sound of her voice is genuine and riddled with concern. Your heart starts to race and you pick at your fingernails subconsciously, you have barely mentioned anything to anyone, even your girlfriends. It’s not that you don’t trust them, but you know they have their own feelings and issues to tackle without having yours added to them. Lady Dimitrescu tilts her head as she watches your anxiety rise to the surface, your breathing get faster, you become fidgety, and avoid looking in her eyes.

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready, but you should talk to someone about it.” She reassures.

“I…I know and I do want to talk about it but truthfully, I don’t remember much. I blacked out for most of it because I was starved, dehydrated, exhausted, and in constant pain.” The vulnerability manifests into tears, shakes, and quiet sobs.

“He, he chained me down to a chair and I remember being in excruciating pain from being electrocuted. I would shift in defense and I only remember bits and pieces after that. He used those hallucinogenic flowers that Donna grows, so it’s difficult to say what was real and what was fake. He did keep me in this locked room and chained to a wall. I tried to escape the first month. So many times. Each time he caught me faster and faster because I was growing weaker, eventually I became too weak to fight back and gave up. He would throw me scraps from his dinner to keep me alive and….” you choke back another sob, “made me drink out of a bowl like a dog.”

You don’t notice through the blur of your tears, but the sudden pressure around your body and the surrounding smell of smoke snaps you to attention. Lady Dimitrescu is hugging you, not only that, somehow she scooped you off your seat and is holding you tightly to her chest. The dam burst and everything flooded out. You bury your head against her shoulder and sob uncontrollably, your fingers clench onto whatever fabric is nearest and you shake violently. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t move the entire time, she keeps you close and breathes unnecessary breaths in rhythmic time until your breathing matches hers.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter as you pull away from her shoulder to see the tear and snot stain.

The Lady pulls a handkerchief from her bosom to wipe your swollen eyes then holds it against your nose.

“Blow your nose.” She orders.

Your cheeks flush from embarrassment, you feel like a child but do as she ordered and blow your nose into the handkerchief. She takes it away and puts it behind her next to her cigarettes then looks back at you. The look in her eyes you have only seen once before and it was toward her daughters. They are sympathetic, loving, and most importantly, they show a personal level of understanding.

“Never apologize for showing your emotions cel mic. I know you have been avoiding me because you thought I was angry. I admit I was at first, then I realized you had no control over your actions and once you regained control, you did what you always do: protect your family. I told you before, I will never punish loyalty.”

You sniff and nodd, “thank you My Lady.”

She stands to her full height and brushes a caring hand over your head, her fingers tangling through your hair. While she did you wipe the tears from your face and fully control your breathing.

“You told the head maid that I was to be treated as one of you. Does…does that mean you’re okay with me dating your daughters?” You ask hoarsly.

“If I wasn't, I would have killed you already. Do not think that it did not cross my mind though, I was furious to discover that you were in a relationship with not one, but all of my daughters. That was, until I saw how the news of your…departure affected them. I knew then that you meant more to them than what I thought. That being said..”

She bends down in front of you again, this time her eyes are their usual cold, calculating, and predatory manner.

“I do not want to see them heartbroken again.” She threatens.

Even though she is threatening you, it makes you feel a little better inside and somehow lighter. You even chuckle to which she raised an eyebrow.

“Is this your way of giving me your blessing?” You ask with a sheepish grin.

Lady Dimitrescu stands back upright, she looks you up and down and gives you a mischievous grin flashing her teeth as she does.

“I will call Mother Miranda tomorrow to inform her that we will be visiting so you may update her on your recovery.”

With that, she turns away from you and exits the seating area. You remain there until you can no longer hear her footsteps.

Continue Reading

[rosekasa]

good morning im thinking about the sailor moon kissing game comic again.....

[thecraftywitches]

Intuition and divination can do more than predict the future—they can help you recover what's been misplaced. This gentle guide walks you through using spiritual tools and your own senses to bring lost things back to you. Continue reading

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Coloured prefaces from The Apothecary Diaries

[alkallier]

The Galax-Sea belongs to the Captain

【Original Prompt】 「by @novelistwriter 」

【Prev】

[noodles-and-tea]

Last part whoo!!!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4

[crsssie]

down the neck - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff, glancing through the scope at the unsub.

"Well, I have to lay low too, no?" Spencer frowns.

"It doesn't matter." You squint, humming. "Hit the button and ask Hotch if I can shoot. Be fast."

"Hotch, we have a clear shot."

"I have a clear shot."

"Snippy—"

"Fire."

You click your tongue, pulling the trigger once to hit the unsub's hand and a second to snipe the gun out of range as Morgan flies into the place. You watch through the scope as Spencer looks through the binoculars, and you only start to sit up when you see Morgan pull the unsub out. Then, you actually sit up and start packing up.

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff.

"You weren't complaining when I—"

You hold a finger to your lips, pointing at your earpiece as Spencer blinks, laughing when you hear a cough in your ears from Hotch.

"Sorry."

"Need I remind you both of—"

"Nope." You puff out your cheeks, slinging the gun around to your back as Spencer raises a brow. "Actually, I think Reid needs a quick reminder. He'd love to go through another HR meeting about how we shouldn't be fraternizing with—"

"We're good, Hotch." Spencer cuts you off, rolling his eyes at you. "We'll see you back at the station."

"You're driving." You mumble, turning off your mic. "Two dollars and I'll drive. Four dollars and I'll make a stop at McDonalds."

"And for five?"

"I'll sneak in a kiss plus everything else."

"I think that can be arranged." He hums, pulling out a five as you press your lips to his, tongue swiping over your bottom lips as he chases when you pull away. You stick your tongue out teasingly as you take the five, craning your neck so that his lips would hit your neck instead. "Hey."

"I'll drop a ten if you—"

"Reid."

You laugh as Spencer jolts straight, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sound of Hotch.

"Turn off your mic next time."

"Roger that, sir."

You're too busy laughing the rest of the way back to be able to drive. (but spencer has no complaints when you hand him back the five with a chaste kiss to his lips).

[earthlyangelbby]

Chapter 2

5.8k

Eddie calls you up the morning after he took you out on the sweetest date. Was it a date? God you hope so. He asks if you're free to hang out and you are. After spending all night thinking about the forehead kiss you of course say yes. Where will the day lead to? A part of you wants it to lead to a real kiss. Will it?

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

You spent all night thinking about that little forehead kiss. That's why, when Eddie called at 10 a.m. sharp to ask if you were free today, you jumped at the chance and got ready faster than you ever have, even though he said he wouldn't be there until later. You picked out a white and blue striped dress with buttons all the way down. It used to be your mom's, from the '60s. You paired it with your little grandma loafers and that long army-green jacket. The weather is gross. Rain taps against the windows like impatient fingers, thunder grumbling somewhere in the distance, the sky swollen and gray. You wait near the front of the dorm building, umbrella in hand, though it's not doing much good. Everything feels a little damp. Your heart won't stop pounding.

When Eddie pulls up in the van, he jumps out and jogs toward you, hood up, curls plastered to his forehead. His grin is crooked and bright as he waves you over.

"Change of plans," he says, holding the passenger door open for you. "Rain kinda ruined what I had in mind."

You blink at him, rain running off your umbrella in streams. "Oh?"

"But we'll do it another time," he adds quickly. "Promise."

You climb in before your brain can catch up. Another time. That means he's already thinking about more than just today. The thought makes your chest tighten in the best possible way. You don't even ask what the original plan was.

The drive is quiet for a few minutes, just the low hum of music and the windshield wipers squeaking rhythmically. Then you pull up to a wide two-story house nestled between trees. It's not what you expected. At all.

"This is your place?" you ask as he parks in the long, cracked driveway.

He chuckles as he kills the engine. "Technically, no. It's Steve's. Well, it's Steve's dad's. But we all live here."

You raise a brow as you follow him to the covered porch. "We?"

Eddie pushes open the front door and steps inside, holding it for you. "Yeah. Me, Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Gareth."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You live with the Brady Bunch."

He snorts. "Pretty much. But less wholesome. And more pizza boxes."

You step into the massive entryway. The ceilings are high, and the furniture is mismatched but comfortable looking. It feels lived in, warm, despite the storm.

Eddie toes off his boots and shrugs out of his damp hoodie. "Steve's dad bought this place for him so he wouldn't have to work during school. Just be a landlord or whatever. But Steve's got this whole complicated thing with his dad, so instead of renting it out, he let us all move in. Mostly rent-free. We just split utilities and buy our own food."

You stand there dripping slightly, staring at the spacious living room and open staircase. It's so different from your cramped dorm it might as well be a castle.

"Seriously," you say, "this place is huge. I thought you lived alone."

"God, no," he says with a grin. "You think I'd voluntarily vacuum a staircase?"

You laugh, and it echoes warmly through the house.

Eddie gives you the tour, room by room, making little jokes as you go, pointing out where Robin once accidentally set a dish towel on fire and the dent in the hallway wall from a misguided indoor skateboard trick. He saves his room for last.

The door is covered in stickers, a chaotic collage of color and slogans, band names, and sarcastic sayings. One in particular catches your eye a bright yellow with bold black lettering: "GAS, GRASS, OR ASS."

You tilt your head. "What does that mean?"

Eddie laughs, actually snorts. "Oh god. That's uh, that's not mine. People just stick stuff on my door. It's been a thing since I moved in a couple of years ago."

"But what does it mean?" you ask again, more curious now.

He rubs the back of his neck, clearly amused. "It's from, like, the '70s. Hitchhikers. It means if you want a ride, you have to pay with gas, weed, or… y'know."

You scrunch your nose. "Ew."

Eddie grins. "Right?"

He opens the door and gestures for you to enter. You brace yourself for something chaotic and messy. Maybe a little gross. But it's… not.

It's so uniquely him.

The walls are covered in band posters, tacked up with thumbtacks and corners curling just slightly with time. Polaroids are scattered between them, Eddie on stage, laughing with friends, one with an older man who has the same wild smile. Three guitars hang on the wall with care, polished and clearly loved. Stacks of D&D books are arranged neatly on a shelf. Vinyls and cassette tapes are alphabetized in tidy rows.

You don't touch anything. Just look. You've always been a look-with-your-eyes kind of girl.

The only real mess is his desk. Papers and notebooks lie scattered across it in a beautiful sort of chaos. Doodles in the margins. A coffee mug full of pens. But what catches your eye is the stack peeking out from between the desk and the edge of his bed.

Penthouse. Jugs. Hustler.

Your cheeks go hot. You glance away quickly, pretending you didn't see, but the thought lingers. This is where he takes care of himself. The idea settles warm and strange in your belly.

You clear your throat and let your eyes move again, this time catching on a pair of handcuffs hanging from the headboard.

You cross the room and hook a finger under the chain, lifting them gently. "Are you really into authentic costuming?"

Eddie chokes on air. "Mostly just for fun," he says, his voice casual but with a glint in his eyes you can't quite place. He steps over and gently takes them from your hand, returning them to their place on the headboard.

Then he pats the bed beside him. "C'mere. You can see the whole shrine from here."

You sit, and when you do, your knees touch. It's electric.

But he just smiles, settling in beside you. "I had so much fun last night," he says, and the way he says it makes your cheeks hurt from the dorky grin you can't suppress.

You glance over at him, heart fluttering, and say softly, "I did too."

You look around his room again, letting yourself sink into the calm of it. "I like your room," you say. "It feels cozy."

"Robin says it looks like someone who pretends to be tough but journals about his feelings."

"Do you?"

Eddie's quiet for a beat. "Only when I've got too much in my head and no one to dump it on."

Your eyes flick to him. "I could be your journal sometimes."

He laughs under his breath. "God, that'd be dangerous."

You start twisting your ring. Eddie notices and says, "That's a cool ring. I like the pearl and how the metal bends around it. Let me guess, was it a graduation present?"

You stammer over the answer at first. "It's a purity ring. Or… that's why I have it. It's kinda just a ring now." Your chest feels hot.

Eddie's brows furrowed. "They actually made you take one of those pledge things?"

You breathe out a sigh. "Yeah. Four years in a row."

He laughs and shakes his head. "So like… are you breaking rules by hanging out with me?"

You shake your head. "I don't have to follow those rules if I don't want to."

You change the subject, nodding toward his hands. "I like your rings too." You reach out to touch one, and your fingers brush his. His hand is warm and calloused. Solid.

You blink. "Your hands are so big."

Eddie actually giggles. A real, bright, unguarded giggle. He holds up his hand and spreads his fingers. "Here, give me yours."

You press your palm against his, and it's like your whole hand disappears under his. He curls his fingertips down until they close lightly over yours.

"Your hands are so tiny," he murmurs.

You laugh, a little breathlessly. "Tiny isn't a word I usually hear when being described."

Eddie shakes his head slowly, eyes still on your hand in his. "Well… when your hand's in mine, it is."

Then he laces his fingers with yours and gives your hand a gentle squeeze, like he's anchoring something between you.

When you both let go, Eddie shifts, turning to face you fully. His expression is softer now, a little more serious under the fringe of damp curls still clinging to his forehead.

"Tell me something you've never told anyone before," he says quietly. "Not ever uttered out loud."

You blink at him, startled by the sudden gravity in his voice. But he's not teasing, he's really looking at you, waiting.

You hesitate, then glance down at your lap, heart starting to thump again. "I used to sneak my mom's romance novels," you admit, chewing your lip. "Read them under the covers in the summer with a flashlight."

That gets him. His lips twitch, eyes lighting up as he leans in a little, intrigued. "No shit? Bodice rippers? Like the old paperbacks with the half-naked guys on the covers?"

"Uh huh," you nod, face warming. "Full-on corsets and longing stares and dramatic declarations."

Eddie chuckles, full and pleased. "What'd you like about 'em?"

You bite your cheek. "I liked that the guys fell for the girls because they were interesting. Not just beautiful. Like, they actually wanted to hear what they had to say. And…" You clear your throat, smiling sheepishly. "Okay. I liked the steamy parts too."

Eddie wiggles his brows. "Ah-ha! So you are a secret romantic and a perv."

You swat at his arm, laughing. "Shut up."

"You liked it when the heroine got ravished in a carriage, didn't you?"

"Oh my god. Don't say ravished."

"Fine," he says, grinning. "Enthusiastically undressed in historically inaccurate locations."

You groan and bury your face in your hands. "Stop."

Eddie just laughs again, the sound warm and bright.

"Your turn," you say, peeking at him through your fingers.

"Fine," he says, puffing out his chest dramatically. "Yeah, I liked it when the heroine got ravished in a carriage. I did."

You scoff, staring at him. "Be real."

He exhales, quieter now. "Okay. I guess… I don't really take myself seriously."

You lower your hands. "Why not?"

He shrugs, eyes flicking to the floor, then back to you. "Because most people don't. So it's easier to beat 'em to the punch. Joke first, get ahead of it, y'know?"

You watch him for a long moment, and something in your chest pulls tight.

"I take you seriously," you say.

His dark brown eyes meet yours again, wide, unguarded, startled.

And for once, he doesn't have a quip ready.

His breath catches just a bit. He doesn't say anything right away, "That's dangerous, Tulip," he says again, but it's softer now. Honest.

You just smile at him. It's not a challenge, not even flirtation. Just a smile that says you're safe here.

There's a pause thick, but not uncomfortable.

"Have you ever done anything like in those romance books?" he asks, voice almost teasing but not quite.

You freeze for a second. The question floats there, daring you. Your face starts to burn. "No, not at all."

Eddie's eyebrow furrows. "Not even a spin-the-bottle or seven minutes in heaven type situation?"

You laugh, a little sheepish. "The game was always over before my turn in stuff like that."

He huffs a laugh. "I would've kissed you."

Your heart skips. It actually skips like a record does when you jostle the table. "Yeah, right."

"I would've," he says again, firmer this time, like he means it down to the bone.

You glance at him, brave enough to ask, "What about you? Ever done anything like in the romance novels?"

He's quiet for a moment. "Kinda," he says eventually. "Not the undying love confessional stuff. More like… random hook-ups. Out of boredom."

That catches you off guard. "Out of boredom?"

He shrugs. "Two idiots alone on a Saturday night, nothing on TV, maybe a little Jack Daniels. Sometimes boredom's enough to get people doing things that feel good, even if it doesn't mean anything."

There's something hollow in that answer that you don't know what to do with. Something you don't like. You're quiet for a few seconds, until–

"Have you…" He begins, then falters, eyes flicking into yours. "If not with someone… have you, like… done stuff? To yourself?"

Your breath catches. You didn't expect the question, not from him, not like that, gentle, not teasing. Like, he actually wants to know.

"I… yeah," you say, after a pause. Your voice wavers at first but steadies. "I have."

Eddie doesn't move. He doesn't smirk or joke. Just keeps looking up at you, waiting.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt. "I mean… I'm human. I have feelings like everyone else. Mine comes with more guilt."

That makes you wince a little. You weren't planning to say that part, but it slips out anyway.

Eddie's brows pinch, not with judgment, never that, but with something closer to sympathy. Understanding.

"You shouldn't feel guilty," he says softly, squeezing your knee. His palm is warm and steady, grounding. "Seriously."

You swallow the tight feeling in your throat, then try to lighten the mood. "Do you?" you ask, nudging him with your elbow.

"Do what?" Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow.

You smirk a little. "You know… do stuff. To yourself."

He blinks at you, then laughs, real and surprised. "Sweetheart, you can't just ask a guy that."

"You asked me first!" you say, mock-offended.

"I didn't say it that directly," he protests, shaking his head.

"You totally did," you tease.

Eddie groans, leaning back on his hands, laughing. "Jesus Christ."

You grin, cheeks warming, proud you made him squirm.

"Okay, fine," he says, sitting up straighter and meeting your eyes. "Yes, I do. I'm not a monk." He flashes a sly smile. "Happy now?"

You nod. "A little."

"You're evil," he says, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"And you're still in here with me," you say, nudging him again.

"Because it's cozy, warm, and dry here. You're dangerous," he murmurs, voice dropping, eyes locking on yours.

Eddie leans in a little, his voice low but playful. "Alright, what's the most trouble you ever got into?"

You let out a breath, stalling with a twist of your fingers in your lap. "I don't know if it counts as trouble trouble…"

"That sounds like something someone who definitely got in trouble would say."

You smile, sheepish. "Okay, fine. When I was in middle school, I used to sneak out at night sometimes. Not far, just a few blocks over to see my best friend. We'd meet at this old baseball field behind the school and just… talk."

Eddie raises his brows. "Scandalous. You little outlaw."

You laugh. "It wasn't that wild. We weren't drinking or vandalizing or anything. Just being kids. Once we skipped youth group to meet up instead. I lied and said I had a stomachache. Felt bad about it for days."

He grins. "You've got the soul of a nun, Tulip."

Your smile fades into something softer. "We actually made a plan to run away once. Packed peanut butter crackers, a flashlight, and even brought a bit of cash. We were gonna take her older brother's bike and just go."

Eddie's eyes light up. "Wait, really? What happened?"

You roll your eyes. "My mom overheard us talking on the kitchen phone. She picked up real quiet on the other end and listened in."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes. She was waiting on the porch when I tried to sneak out with my backpack. I thought I was about to be sent away."

Eddie laughs, but it's not mocking. "So you've got a little rebel in you after all."

You shrug. "A very small one. Mostly, I just wanted to feel like I had control over something."

His smile goes soft around the edges. "That counts."

You nudge him with your knee, grinning. "I'd ask what kind of trouble you've gotten into, but… I've kinda heard about you already. You're, like, this local legend."

Eddie smirks, head tilting. "Legend, huh? That sounds dangerous."

"It is," you tease. "I heard you bite."

He laughs, low and amused. "Only if asked nicely."

Your stomach flips.

Then his expression shifts, softening just a little. "Truth is… I almost got into real trouble once. Like, life-ruining. Because of my dad. He's… not exactly father of the year material."

You blink, the playful mood dimming for a second.

"Haven't talked to him since," he says, more to the space between you than to you. Then his eyes meet yours again, mischief creeping back in. "But hey. I've been walking the straight and narrow ever since."

You raise an eyebrow. "Have you, now?"

He grins. "I mean. I still smoke a little weed. Break the rules under the right circumstances."

You lean in, your voice dropping a touch. "What kind of circumstances?"

Eddie's gaze dips to your mouth before coming back up. "The kind where there's someone cute. Real tempting. Sitting way too close."

You pretend to gasp. "Is this you breaking the law right now?"

"I dunno," he says, inching a little closer. "Am I?"

Your chest feels tight but not in a bad way. Like fizzy soda and anticipation. You glance at his hand where it rests on the comforter between you… And then you do it.

You reach for it. Grab it.

It's warm. Rough. Familiar.

"Does this count as breaking the rules?" you ask, not even trying to hide your smile.

Eddie's eyes flick to your joined hands, then back up to your face.

His voice is low, amused, a little hoarse. "If it does, I'm gonna need someone to arrest me." You laugh, and you don't let go. He shrugs a little, trying to play it cool, but you catch the faint pink in his cheeks, and it feels like a secret just for you.

You blink, heart skittering. Your mind's still on what was said before. "Eddie. Can I ask you something about something you said earlier?"

"Yeah. Anything."

"When you're alone… ya know. Do you think about stuff? Like, scenarios? Or is it more just... mechanical?"

Eddie lets out a breathy laugh. "Jesus, Tulip." He runs a hand through his damp curls. "You really don't pull punches, huh?"

You shrug, but your cheeks are hot. "You said 'dangerous,' remember?"

That gets him, his mouth curls up slowly, crooked. "Yeah. I guess I did." He tilts his head, eyes roaming your face in a way that's almost thoughtful.

"Okay. Yeah. I think about stuff. Sometimes made-up. Sometimes stuff that's happened. Sometimes stuff I wish would happen."

You fidget with the hem of your sleeve, then risk a glance at him. "Do you ever think about… people you know?"

He doesn't answer right away. Just watches you. You think he's going to deflect, make a joke, but instead—

"Yeah," he says quietly.

Your breath catches, pulse thudding like a drumline in your ears.

"Oh."

"Yeah," he says again, and there's something heavier in it now, an unspoken underline.

Your brain goes fuzzy at the edges.

"Is that weird?" you ask, your voice smaller now.

"No." His answer is immediate. "God, no. It's not weird. It's normal. Especially when it's someone who… makes you feel good. Makes you feel seen." He hesitates, eyes trailing down your figure, then back up with something softer in his expression. "Especially when they're kinda stupid hot."

You glance at him sharply. He's not smiling anymore, not the goofy, teasing grin. This smile is softer, quieter. Reverent, almost.

He shifts again, cross-legged like you, knees brushing yours. The space between you is practically buzzing.

"You ever think about someone you know?" he asks, voice low. You swallow. You want to look away, but you don't.

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes flick to your lips, just for a second. "Do I know him?"

You smile, barely. "Maybe."

He lets out a shaky breath. "Fuck." It's not a curse. It's a prayer. The rain is still tapping against the windows, but you barely notice now. The thunder's gotten closer. So has he.

You tuck your hair behind your ear, heart hammering so loud you're sure he can hear it. "Eddie. I, um—" you start, then laugh nervously. "I'm really bad at this, but I kinda sorta maybe want you to kiss me? Like, a lot?"

You wince immediately. Smooth. Real smooth.

But Eddie stares at you like you just ripped the sky open. "God, Sweetheart," he murmurs, and there's a crooked smile spreading across his face. "I thought you'd never ask."

And still, he waits. Still, he gives you room to change your mind. But you don't. You lean in first, bumping noses slightly before finding the right angle.

And when his lips meet yours, soft and sure and real, it feels like every dog-eared paperback you ever hid under the covers has come to life in a way no story ever quite got right.

Because this time, you're the girl.

And he wants you.

Not because you're perfect.

But because you're you.

The kiss deepens, slow and heady, until you're easing back onto the bed beneath him. His hands start to roam, deliberate like he's trying to memorize every soft curve with his fingertips. The press of his weight on you feels grounding like gravity, like home.

Eddie tastes like cherry cola and summer heat. His scent is musky, earthy, something a little wild that sinks into your skin and clouds your head. One of his hands slides up your dress, fingers curling into the softness of your thighs. His rings leave cool, thrilling impressions as he grips you like he means it. The sensation is so new and so electric, it pulls a quiet moan from your throat, and Eddie hums in response, like he felt it too.

He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down your throat, lower, until he finds the nape of your neck. When his tongue meets your skin there, it sends a jolt through your whole body another moan spills from your lips. Hearing yourself enjoying him sends a thrill through you and a bit of embarrassment.

Thunder hits. It shakes the house, lightning flashing so bright it paints the room white for a heartbeat. In the silence that follows footsteps. Heavy and hurried, coming up the stairs.

"Eddie?" A voice calls out. "Dude, the power's about to—"

The door swings open without warning. Steve stands in the doorway, flashlight in hand, mouth dropping open when he sees you both.

"Oh. Oh." His eyes go wide, and he immediately backs up. "Sorry, man. I didn't—"

The lights flicker once, twice, and then the room plunges into darkness.

"—blow," Steve finishes lamely.

You gasp and immediately scramble to sit up, nearly knocking your forehead against Eddie's chin in your haste. Your face burns so hot you're surprised it doesn't light up the room. You tug your dress down frantically, mortified that Steve, a complete stranger, just caught you making out with Eddie Munson on his bed.

"Oh my god," you whisper, hands covering your face.

Eddie pulls away with a groan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for just a moment. You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and unsteady.

"Thanks for the heads up, Steve," he mutters, voice thick with frustration.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll just..." Steve gestures vaguely to the hallway, already retreating. "Sorry again."

When the door clicks shut, you and Eddie stay frozen for a moment, your hearts racing for entirely different reasons now. Even in the dark, you can't bring yourself to look at him, your embarrassment a palpable thing between you.

Eddie finally sits up fully, running a hand through his curls. In the dim light filtering through his curtains, you can see his silhouette, shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath.

"Well," he says softly, "that was..."

"Mortifying?" you offer, smoothing your dress with trembling hands, still not meeting his eyes.

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. "I was gonna say 'terrible timing,' but yeah, that works too."

You let out a nervous laugh, "So," you start, staring at your hands in your lap, "I guess we should go check on the power situation?"

Eddie hesitates. "I should, yeah." But he doesn't move. Instead, his hand finds yours in the dark, fingers intertwining gently. "But I don't want to leave you up here alone feeling embarrassed."

That makes your heart flutter despite your mortification. "I just—I don't usually... I mean, I've never actually..." You trail off, unable to find the right words.

"Hey," Eddie says softly, squeezing your hand. "It's okay. Steve has terrible timing, but he's cool. He's not gonna make a big deal out of it."

"It's not just that," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "I've never... done this before. Any of this. And then suddenly we're— someone walks in", you let out a shaky breath.

You feel him shift beside you, and then his arm wraps around your shoulders, not pulling you closer, just offering comfort.

"I'm really sorry about that," he says, and there's genuine regret in his voice. "Not about kissing you. That was—" He pauses, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. "That was pretty amazing. But I'm sorry about the interruption. And making you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say quickly. "The kiss was..." You feel your face heat up again. "It was nice."

Eddie laughs softly. "Nice? That's it? I'm wounded, Tulip."

You playfully swat at him in the darkness, some of your embarrassment easing. "Shut up. You know what I mean."

"I do." His voice is gentle now. "And for what it's worth, I think we should probably slow down anyway. Give you time to get your bearings."

Relief floods through you. "You don't mind?"

"Mind?" He sounds genuinely surprised. "No. Of course not."

There's something so careful in the way he says it, so genuine, that you find yourself leaning against him, head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Hey, nothing to thank me for. We've got time."

Time. The word settles around you like a blanket. Not a one time thing. Not just a heat of the moment mistake. Time implies future, continuation, more days like this one.

"I'd like that," you admit quietly.

Eddie's hand comes up to brush your hair back from your face, and he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. "Me too."

A loud crash from downstairs breaks the moment, followed by cursing and laughter.

"I guess we should go down," you say reluctantly. "Before someone else comes looking for us."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees with a sigh. He fumbles around on his nightstand until he finds a flashlight. "But before we face the Spanish Inquisition down there..."

The beam clicks on, and he points it downward, illuminating your joined hands rather than blinding either of you. In the soft glow, his expression is earnest, a little vulnerable.

"I just want you to know that was the best first kiss I've ever had," he says. "Even with Steve's impeccable timing."

Your embarrassment melts into something warmer. "Mine too." You bite your lip, then add shyly, "And, um, my first kiss, so... the bar wasn't super high or anything."

Eddie's smile turns soft. "Even better. Means I get to be the one to show you how good it can be." He gives your hand one last squeeze. "When you're ready."

The promise in his voice makes your skin tingle. "We should probably go downstairs," you say, though you don't make any move to get up.

"Probably," he agrees, equally reluctant. "Or..."

"Or?"

"Or we could hide up here until the power comes back on and pretend we're not home."

You laugh, the tension breaking. "Eddie! We can't just—"

"Fine, fine," he grumbles good-naturedly, standing and pulling you up with him. "But if Steve makes one smart comment, I'm pushing him into the coffee table."

As you follow him toward the door, he pauses, flashlight beam pointing at the floor. "Hey, Tulip?"

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know, your face is still really red." He grins, the flashlight catching the mischief in his eyes. "It's cute."

"Eddie!" you protest, smacking his arm lightly as your blush intensifies.

His laugh echoes in the darkened room as he opens the door. "Come on. Let's go face the music."

The living room flickers with soft candlelight, casting warm shadows across secondhand furniture and scattered throw blankets. A battery-powered radio hisses low static between crackly notes of some '70s slow jam. Outside, the storm rages on—rain rattling the windows, thunder rumbling in the distance like a warning shot.

You follow Eddie into the room, his flashlight guiding the way until Robin turns toward the sound of your footsteps.

"Oh my god," she blurts. "You're Tulip."

You freeze in the doorway, startled. "…Yeah?"

"I knew you were real." She elbows the boy next to her on the couch. "He talks about you all the time. Guitar lessons, mixtapes, mysterious girl he disappears to see twice a week."

Eddie lets out a groaning, "Rooobiiin…"

"She's right," the boy adds with a grin. "I'm Gareth. Don't worry, we've all heard about you."

You blink, heart pounding, unsure if you want to melt into the floor or laugh.

From the kitchen, a soft voice cuts in. "It's really nice to meet you, Tulip." A girl with neat hair and a flickering candle in a jelly jar steps into view. "I'm Nancy."

"Hi," you manage, voice small but steady.

Then Steve pokes his head around the doorway near the radio. "Okay, wait. This is Tulip? Like the actual Tulip? From the cassette tapes and the guitar lessons…… and you know, Eddie being way less annoying twice a week?"

Eddie sighs and plants a hand on his face. "You're all so funny."

Robin cackles. "We know."

You let out a nervous laugh and rub your arms, the embarrassment still prickling under your skin.

Eddie glances at you then, just for a second.

It's not a dramatic look, just his eyes catching yours, a flicker of concern there, like he's checking in without saying a word.

You give a tiny nod and a smile. You're okay. Really.

His shoulders ease.

Robin pats the couch cushion beside her. "Come sit. I promise we're only a little weird. We've got cocoa, a pathetic amount of popcorn, and a strong chance of accidental candle fire."

Eddie guides you toward the couch and drops down beside you, thigh pressed to yours. He slouches into the cushions like he's done it a hundred times, like this, you and him together is the most natural thing in the world. You sit close but stiff, still a little rattled from earlier.

His knee nudges yours lightly.

You glance over, and in the dim candlelight, Eddie meets your eyes. No words. Just the tiniest tilt of his head, the question there in the space between you.

Steve tosses you a blanket, and you catch it awkwardly. "Storms freak you out?" he asks, tone light but not mocking.

You pause. "Used to. Not so much tonight."

Robin leans over with a grin. "That's 'cause Eddie's here. He makes people feel less like the world is ending. It's deeply unfair."

Gareth nods solemnly. "Unfair and statistically accurate."

Eddie throws a popcorn kernel at him. It bounces off Gareth's knee and lands in Robin's lap. She pops it into her mouth with zero hesitation.

Nancy chuckles softly and settles cross-legged on the floor, lighting another candle. "It's nice having a full house."

You look around. The laughter. The warmth. The blanket draped over your lap. The soft brush of Eddie's hand as his fingers find yours again, hidden from view.

He doesn't look up.

You don't need him to.

Because somehow, without saying a word, you both already know: you're okay.

And more than that, you're wanted here.

"So," Robin says, tucking her legs under her. "We've been getting Eddie's version of you for weeks now. What's your side of the story?"

You raise an eyebrow. "My side?"

"Yeah," Gareth says, leaning forward with a grin. "Like… why'd you stick around? He bribes you or something?"

You glance at Eddie, who's already trying and failing to look offended.

"Definitely no bribes," you say, playing along. "His mixtapes, maybe."

"See?" Eddie says, pointing dramatically at Gareth. "She has taste. You all could learn a thing or two."

"She's clearly too polite to tell you that your guitar solos are an acquired taste," Robin mutters.

"They are innovative," Eddie fires back.

You're laughing before you even realize it, really laughing, and it spills out of you like something uncoiled. The tension in your shoulders eases. You're still clutching the blanket to your chest, but it doesn't feel like armor anymore. Just comfort.

Nancy sips from her tea. "What are you studying, Tulip?"

"Oh. Um… literature. I've been here since September."

"Transfer student?" she asks, her voice warm.

You nod. "From Tennessee."

Robin perks up. "Ohhh, I can hear it now."

Your cheeks warm, but not in the bad way. It's more like the way your chest feels when someone laughs at your joke.

"I like it," Steve says unexpectedly. "It's kinda charming."

"Don't let him flirt with you," Eddie deadpans. "He thinks a southern accent is an automatic date invitation."

"I do not!"

Everyone bursts out laughing again.

The storm rumbles outside, lightning flickering behind the windows, but the room feels insulated from it like all that wildness has stopped at the walls. The group chats about nothing and everything: classes, a guy in their stats course who keeps trying to sell people encyclopedias, the microwave that almost caught fire last week (again), the way Steve once accidentally drank paint water during an all-nighter.

You don't say much, but no one seems to mind. When you do speak, they listen. And when you don't, there's no awkwardness, just Eddie's thumb brushing back and forth across the back of your hand like he's grounding you, steadying you without saying a word.

Someone's mid-sentence when it happens—

A loud click, a soft hum, and then the living room floods with warm, overhead light. The microwave beeps weakly from the kitchen, and the old stereo whirs to life with a static crackle.

Everyone blinks at the brightness, blinking like they've just woken from a dream.

"Well," Robin says, shielding her eyes. "There goes the mood lighting."

Gareth groans dramatically. "I liked it better when we were mysterious shadows telling ghost stories and deep truths."

"You mean embarrassing stories and conspiracy theories," Eddie mutters.

You laugh, but your gaze drifts back to Eddie's hand resting close to yours on the couch.

The storm might be letting up. The lights are back on. And for the first time in a long time you’re truly happy.

Thank you for reading !!!!

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

Also is there anything you hope happens?

What are your thoughts? lmk!!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ali-r3n @ilovecowboysyouknowthat @spookybabey @exploding-bonbon @am0iur @taniamunson @emxxblog @api0calisse @twihard08 @shadowhunty

@abirdinthehouse @jeangeniex

[anitalenia]

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒑 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

credits to me. feel free to use and save. of course credit would be appreciated but it is not required. I’m just making these for fun <3 dividers I’ve made to fics and things that are sitting in my drafts and decided to share.

[raphaerolo]

nothing strange happening here folks. just two men headbonking and sharing a breath like cats tend to do. normal gar activities if i ever saw one.

[ranchracoon]

Devour Ch 16. The Dimitrescu Sisters

Master Post

Chapter 15

Daniela purrs against your chest as she nuzzles into the crook of your neck, she leaves gentle nips against your skin while Bela traces her hand over your thigh. You release a dark chuckle and tilt back your head to allow more access for Daniela, Cassandra joins in with nibbles over your collarbone and shoulder. Bela gives you a side smirk as her hand travels from your thigh up to your breast, she gives it a squeeze and chuckles when you groan lowly. Blood is coursing through them and you, your heart beats rapidly against your ribcage. The water has started to cool but your body is on fire, you squirm under their touches and bite your lip before growling softly.

            “We should move this out of the tub.” You mumble.

            The three of them agree before they remove themselves from you and get out of the tub. You follow them after you drain the water, when you walk through the doorway into the bedroom the three of them grab you violently. Cassandra and Daniela grab your arms, and Bela grabs your shoulders before shoving you down on your knees. They giggle and circle you like sharks, your breath trembles with excitement while their bare feet pad against the stone flooring.

            “You look so pretty on your knees.” Daniela giggles.

            Their golden eyes flash with hunger, a heavy force hits you in the back and slams you against the floor. You grunt and turn your head to look at them from your peripheral, the pressure on your back keeping you in place. Someone kneels and lifts your head, something cold and metallic clasps around your neck with a click. When they set your head down the pressure on your back is removed and there’s another click behind your neck. You’re tugged up by your neck and brought up back onto your knees, you look up at Cassandra who smirks down at you, with a long, leather, leash in her hand. Your heart races as excitement trickles down your body, heat radiates from between your legs and the scent thick with arousal.

            “Get up.” Cassandra orders.

            You stand immediately, your eyes glance over to Daniela who licks her teeth and caresses your shoulders. Bela grabs your jaw and forces you to look up to her, she presses her lips against yours to which you happily return; her tongue licks against your lips and into your mouth when you spread them for her. Her cold tongue clashes with the hotness of your breath and muffled groans that escape you. You’re jerked away before you’re able to wrap your arms around her, Cassandra pulls you to your bed and snaps her fingers for you to get on it. You crawl on all fours onto your bed and lay on your back as the three of them circle you with carnivorous smiles. Cassandra yanks your leash up as she straddles over your chest, her smell encases you in ecstasy as you take deep, wanting breaths.

            “You belong to us right now. You won’t be leaving this room, or us, until we say so.” She growls as she leans over to your ear.

            “Yes ma’am.” You answer.

            “If you need to stop, then say so and we’ll stop.” Bela offers.

            “Or simply give one of us two taps. I don’t think you’ll be able to speak very much.” Daniela adds.

            Bela giggles lowly as she crawls from the end of the bed, her hands slide under your thighs and spread your legs. Your hands slither up Cassandra’s back as she arches toward your face and her legs resting around your shoulders, a throaty growl leaves you as her core hovers over. You crane your neck up and lick along her slit, her sweet arousal is tangy against your tongue, you glide it between her lips and suck on her clit. Cassandra lets out a sigh and lowers herself further, your head rests against the pillow and your hands hold her ass to help keep her up.

            Cassandra slowly rotates and grinds her hips against your face, your tongue teas inside her then back up to her clit. You use your teeth to grind back as added friction, you take gasps of breaths through your nose when she grinds down. Although, you wouldn’t be mad if you suffocated like this. Her hand wrenches on the collar and involuntarily brings your head back, your eyes glimpse up, her other hand is on the headboard. Her breasts sway and bounce with every roll of her hips. Your jaw opens to its full length and your tongue tastes every inch it can reach inside and out.

Bela carries your hips up; her mouth devours your core with vigor and hunger. Cold fingers expertly rub then circle your clit. Your eyes are still on Cassandra as her pants become low moans. Warmth spreads like fire over your body as your grow wetter with each flick of Bela’s tongue and fingers. She replaces her fingers with her mouth, sucking on it and rolling it with her tongue as two of her fingers glide into you with ease. You close your eyes momentarily and hum with satisfaction, solely trying to keep your attention on Cassandra’s pleasure.  

Another moan against Cassandra edged her further to her own orgasm, you lift your hips to the best of your ability as the pressure builds inside you. Bela’s fingers curl against your g-spot making your hips buck and growl into Cassandra. You squeeze Cassandra’s ass as she leans into you, her grinding picks up and the hitch in her moans make you smirk against her. She moans loudly and throws her head back, her legs shake and crush you between them as you eat up every ounce of her orgasm. The pressure deep in your stomach pops, warmth attacks your entire body followed by shivers and shakes. You rock your hips as your own orgasm shudders through making your legs tremble.

Cassandra pants softly as she removes herself, the bottom half of your face is covered in a mixture of her cum and your own spit. She reaches down and wipes away what she can from your mouth and chin before giving you a quick peck on the lips. Daniela takes the leash from Cassandra then purrs at you, you start to look down at Bela but you’re quickly tugged with the leash. A familiar feeling of fabric goes over your legs and settles on your hips, you smirk at Daniela knowing exactly what she wants.

“Ah, ah, ah, no peeking.”

Daniela pulls you up into a sitting position, she tilts her head and licks your neck with another purr. A shiver shoots up your spine, her nails drag between your breasts leaving red claw marks in their wake. Your fingers find their way between your bodies and start to rub Daniela’s clit, she moans quietly against your ear as you coat your fingers in her wetness. You sigh with your eyes locked on Daniela, you bring your other hand to her back and jerk her closer to sink your teeth into her neck. She gasps your name loudly as you taste and bite the skin until you thoroughly mark her.

            Daniela rises then lowers herself onto the toy, all while maintaining eye contact with you. She moans sensually, she bottoms out and adjusts herself to be comfortable then forcibly shoves you back down onto the bed. She clenches the leash in her hand, holding your neck up just enough for your head not to touch the pillow. While she rides you, she takes your hand and returns it to her clit, holding it in place as she uses you as her own personal sex toy. The bed sinks from Bela and Cassandra, they lay on each side of you and each take one of your breasts in their hands. They pinch and fondle your nipples while their mouths plaster your shoulders and neck with outlines of their teeth. You choke a little from the collar constricting you, taking in small gasps of air. Ecstasy courses through your brain and down your veins, your mind is foggy with something primal begging for more.

            Your body shivers but you continue to groan lowly and keep your eyes on the women on top of you. You thrust your hips, Daniela squeals in surprise as you match her riding pace with your own thrusts, Bela and Cassandra bite down on your collarbone at the same time, hard enough to leave a lasting mark but not break the skin. Daniela curves her back and moans loudly, your fingers swirl her clit vigorously as her nails dig into your waist that she so desperately grasps. Her whole-body quivers and her legs pinch you in place. She slows her riding until she shivers one last time and sighs before moving herself off you. Daniela hands the leash to Bela who lets your head finally flop down for a moment of relief, you raise your hips for Daniela to remove the strap from your hips.

            “Still got more in you?” Bela asks.

            “I can do this all day.” You reply.

            Cassandra gets up from the bed and moves around to the other side with Daniela. With a wicked smile Bela stands and leads you to the end of the bed. She sits back down and scoots herself up to the edge with her legs spread open. You kneel on the ground and traverse kisses along her thighs, she uses the leash to guide you up further. When you reach her core, you kiss it before separating her lips with your tongue, she was soaking and you lap it up like your last meal. Bela’s hips move into your face and you adjust your arms to keep her there, bobbing your head up and down for added pressure. Your tongue moves inside her then along her entire core back to her clit, using your teeth to graze against her. You free an arm and penetrate her with two fingers.

            She moans with each pump of your fingers, and when you curl them against her g-spot her muscles jerk and her moans falter. Your eyes widen as two hands lift your hips up so that you are fully bent over. Bela lays back down on the bed and pushes your head down with her hand to keep going. A third finger is added and Bela’s walls tighten around them, her moans are erratic and uneven, with every thrust of your fingers she rolls her hips.

            The two hands grip your waist with the toy teasing your entrance, the length of the toy grinds between your legs to lube itself up with your slick. It went it with no resistance and immediately matches the pace of your arm, each time you thrust inside Bela, you are thrusted into as well. There’s a mix of muffled moans and sighs, making every attempt to keep quiet and only partially succeeding. Bela’s walls tighten around your fingers, her hips are starting to rise off the bed and her hand pushes you down harder.

            “Keep going, I’m so close.” She begs.

            Your own legs shake, the volcanic pressure building itself again and you rock forward and back with each thrust to meet it in the middle. Bela unleashes a final moan of your name, her back arches, her hips press down on you as her walls squeeze around your fingers. You can feel her muscles contract as you pull out of her. The thrusts inside you speed up, there is an audible slap of skin against your thighs and ass, your tongue works to lick up Bela’s orgasm while your own takes over. Bela moves away from you and cups your face to capture you in a kiss right as you moan into her mouth. Your hips reel against the strap as the heat cascades down your body and out through your feet.

            This continues, round after round until you collapse onto the bed panting heavily after finally reaching your limit. Daniela cuddles against your side, Bela lays on top of you, and Cassandra snuggles on the other side. The collar around your neck is removed, and Bela tenderly kisses the red outline of it on your neck.

            “Guess we’ll have to bathe again.” Says Cassandra.

            “Oh darn.” You snicker.

Continue Reading

[soapbbox]

I absolutely love how you portray the High Guard and Megatron! Especially with how the High Guard are a bunch of old men who have been out of the loop for decades while their leader is basically an angsty twenty-something who has no idea how anything is supposed to work. Also just love your artstyle in general!

Omg thank youuuu, he absolutely does not know how war works

[himulrai]

optimus flashbanging megatron on his bad moods is one of my favourite hcs - i wanted to include it in my fic but i wasn't able to!

Note: Chapter 3 of Catalyse That Vertex is now up!

Orion Swap AU masterlist (since this technically falls under the AU)