#This is uh... Inspired by true events.

[stellaluna33]

Domestic Literati:

It's a good thing they locked their bedroom door this morning, because their kid just interrupted a little early morning intimacy by trying to burst into the room! The "emergency?" A nightmare? No... Unbearable hunger? No... They are getting interrupted because the kid just HAD to tell them what just happened in the book they were reading.

[titxxn]

@merveiilles (RAVENNA)  ||  liked.

»» ──────ஓ๑♄๑ஓ ────── ««     ❝ ...  ʜᴏᴡ  ᴀʀᴇ  ʏᴏᴜ   not  freezing?   it’s  SO  cold  out  here. ❞

[thewinchestah]

"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

  | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy <;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

-

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths. 

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you. 

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes  glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel  just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room. 

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.”  Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head 

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie” 

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming. 

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness. 

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over. 

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away. 

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place. 

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon. 

-

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it. 

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair. 

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward. 

-

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen. 

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine. 

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile. 

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.  

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first. 

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin. 

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me” 

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed  you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors. 

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”. 

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash. 

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

 if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class. 

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence. 

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out 

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room” 

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

 “I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?” 

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it. 

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission. 

“Take my breath away, Alastor” 

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious. 

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back. 

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard. 

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

 Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it. 

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him. 

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing 

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him,  making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be  begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down. 

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood. 

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started” 

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way” 

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs. 

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver. 

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control. 

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined  he would, if he had more time to work on you. 

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much. 

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more. 

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you. 

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure. 

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

 his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame” 

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this  pain of being broken feels good. 

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face. 

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth. 

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this”  Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice 

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back  when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture. 

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep. 

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

-

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

[wumblr]

the way house of leaves has been revived for a cult following is so funny. it's completely backwards! it was a music industry book. the singer poe, who made waves with her debut for having a few tracks produced by j dilla and then if i remember correctly doing a 500+ show tour, essentially tanked her career to promote the book (written by her brother)

not like on purpose but it was supposed to be a paired project and there was a remix with a book excerpt read by mark (the kyrie bmw sex scene) and like, i don't know, a tie-in website -- but then her label got sold or merged or acquired and the project was eventually cancelled after languishing in limbo for a few years. there's also an aspect of this where like, a texas oil executive posed as a friend of her late father (possibly true) in order to manipulate legal proceedings (?) to ultimately own her writing and recording copyrights post-acquisition (dubious allegation, which also relies on her having signed away both types of copyright to her label in the first place, arguably a larger problem spanning the whole industry, even today, still coming up in legal proceedings from kesha and taylor swift and so on)

anyway the album (haunted) and the book were both inspired by the same event (death of their father, tad danielewsky -- as an aside, a professor of theater at brigham young university). the album features samples from a box of cassette tape recordings of his voice. and also some fake samples from a couple of guys pretending to be tad danielewski with an obviously ridiculous accent and a couple of kids pretending to be her as a kid. and it takes place inside the house. the growl is there and everything i swear

it really was one of the top tier 90s concept albums (it was released in 2000 actually) but it is usually FAR too much to handle for casual listening and a lot of it comes across difficult for being so sincere and so unfocused (it is a love letter to her dead father where one of the songs is a list of places she's gotten fucked, because, uh, this is a conversation she wanted to have with him. shrug). and yet it's hard not to take it as it is because it's so consistently well produced

so i know nobody's computer comes with a cd player anymore but to read the book without listening to the paired album implicitly packed in the back of the book jacket is kind of like missing the whole point. there's a whole second act of rashomon you guys are missing. and a third act hello the etsy teleplays. ANYWAY the point i wanted to make is that there are a couple of things about the album sticking to the roof of my mouth as being somehow prescient. there's a distorted "why (are you) so serious" sample that would have come across VERY differently post-joker, but there's also "tell me something dangerous and true," a far more interesting variation on the theme currently circulating. and i'm speaking to an empty room here because it's only the celibate 60% of this website who is reading the book because it allows them a patina of literary validity and several nested unreliable narrators to distance themselves from the sex scenes, but haunted is very authentically, directly and exclusively written in first person and to be honest it fucks too hard for you guys. i'm sorry

[strawberryspence]

inspired by the recent events (think of a singer and football player) and ofc, inspired by the brilliant, @henderdads, who has graciously allowed me to make this into a whole thing. 👀

check out the original post!

*i don’t know ANYTHING about the NFL, so sorry for the obvious mistakes*

”What do you mean?” Steve looks up from tying his shoelaces, and stares at his agent.

“Harrington, how many times do I have to say this?” Robin smirks at him, “He’s here. He’s sitting with Mama Joyce.”

Steve’s 100% sure a wire short circuits in his brain. He blinks rapidly at her before asking once again.

“Eddie Munson?”

Robin hums, “Ahuh.”

“Like the 12 time Grammy winner, Eddie Munson, from Corroded Coffin?”

Robin slaps a hand on her forehead, “Yes, Steve! Eddie Munson is in the stadium right now. You’re the one who asked me to arrange his seats.”

Steve jumps from the wooden benches, “I didn’t think he would come!”

Robin crosses her arms, “First of all, you were the one who made that bracelet with your number on it—“

“I WAS DRUNK!”

Robin puts up a finger, “You weren’t drunk when you brought it to his concert and asked Lucas Sinclair to hand it to him. You also weren’t drunk when you announced it on a podcast, when it could’ve been a secret for all of us to keep. Second of all, you whined and annoyed me until I finally caved in, called his publicist to finally arrange the whole thing and the thanks I get is more whining?!”

Oh no. Steve stares at her, as all of the things she said finally sinks in. Oh no. Eddie Munson is in the crowd. He came. Steve asked and Eddie came. He’s gonna watch Steve Harrington play. Weirdly, he wonders if this is what Eddie feels when he’s about to play sold out arenas. Steve’s never felt nervous to play, the field is— well— his comfort place and not once has he had this sense of dread to play. Not even when he had to play the Super Bowl.

"I didn't think he'd come!" Steve panics.

“Uh-oh. No time for panic attacks. The game starts in about 15 minutes.”

“Oh my god.” Steve groans as she pushes him out of the locker rooms to the halls. There’s TVs in every corner, and one TV catches his attention.

There he is.

Eddie Munson’s sitting beside his adoptive mother and his siblings. Dear God. In what world is this real?

The commentator squeals in delight as he broadcasts, “Here’s one for the books, one that’s surely going to break the internet tonight. In the crowd tonight, we have the lead singer of best selling metal group, Eddie Munson. The rumors are apparently true! Harrington and Munson are definitely friends, maybe even more?”

Steve groans as Sinclair moves pass him, bumping shoulders. A huge smirk on his face, “I didn’t think you could do it, but I have to say, I am very proud of you.”

”Leave me alone.” He sulks as Lucas walks down the hall laughing his head off.

When Steve started talking to Eddie, he never really thought he’d end up here. Did he want something serious with Eddie? Well, yes. He’s been crushing on the man since he realized he was bisexual and Eddie was already the cover of the Seventeen magazine for nth time. But Eddie was a superstar singer who’s still on a world tour that has already sold billions, so no, Steve didn’t expect him to be here. He also knows that Eddie just got out of a pretty public break-up, so he didn’t expect anything but friendship. He just— shoot his shot and prayed to the Gods.

Steve thinks back to the conversation they had a few nights ago. A conversation only possible through the help of prayer and two shots of vodka.

“You wanna go out this Sunday?” Steve asks, trying his best to keep the nerves under the wraps.

“Isn’t that the day of the game?” Eddie speaks over the phone and Steve still can’t fathom the fact that he’s talking to Eddie Munson on a regular Wednesday night.

“Yeah, I mean. We can go out after the game.” Steve gulps, and he feels the need to take another shot.

”Huh.” Eddie hums, “Would that be a date, Harrington?”

“Yes.” Steve lightly bangs his head on the wall, “I mean, if you want it to be.” Steve covers his mouth to muffle the embarrassing sounds that comes out from him. What a wuss.

“Here, let’s play a fun little game. Let’s wait till Sunday.” Steve can hear the smirk in his voice, and god, Steve will have to look up the damn “Eddie Munson smirks for 10 minutes” compilation on Youtube again.

”What do you mean?”

“I’ll think about it. On Sunday, if I’m in the crowd then maybe we can get some dinner. If I’m not, then maybe next time.” There’s a playfulness in his voice that makes Steve want to tear his hair out.

Steve gnaws at his lips, that sounds easy enough, “Okay. That sounds… easy.”

Eddie laughs. It’s music to Steve’s ears and he feels pathetic, “Not so easy, big boy. If I’m there, you have to get a touchdown and then it’s a date. If not, then we hang out with your siblings. They’re pretty cool.”

Steve stares at the wall in his room, there’s maybe 50% chance he’ll get a touchdown. He could talk to Sinclair and McKinney to get him the ball. He could do it. It’s just another touchdown. He’s done—what?— like 50 touchdowns in his life.

”Okay.” Steve gulps, “Let’s do it.”

“HARRINGTON!” Steve blinks back to the present, lifting his eyes away from the picture of Eddie Munson wearing the red windbreaker representing his team.

Hopper’s calling him over, a smirk clear on his face. Why is everyone fucking smirking at him? “I see you’re distracted. I hope this doesn’t cripple your ability to play.”

”Hop!” Steve groans, only for his coach to laugh and pat him in the back.

“Go on! Line up!” Hop smiles, winking at him, “Good luck out there.”

Steve puts on his helmet, before taking a few deep breathes.

He just needs a touchdown. One touchdown.

Steve smiles.

He’d do anything for Eddie Munson.

A touchdown is nothing.

[zhongrin]

behind the screen

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ yandere, sagau

◇ a/n ◇ ok ok ok story time liSTEN-

i was showing a friend genshin for the first time few weekends ago, and ofc i had zhongli out (she wasn't interested in him tho, sad) to walk around and basically show her around the world. and then we stopped a bit while i explained the whole thing about the usual party composition & the concept of gacha, and ofc zhongli starts talking about osmanthus wine-

so i rolled my eyes (cause i was in the middle of an explanation) and said "zhongli shush" and you know what happened? he. fucking. stopped. talking. the idle animation canceled. i almost pissed myself until i remembered the controller was in my friend's hand and she had moved the joystick. THAT ALMOST SCARED ME TO DEATH SLFJSLJFLS LMAO

so yeah have a drabble 'inspired' by that. toodles~

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

he knows you love his voice.

it's something you always tell him, both directly and indirectly. you would drop in his voiceover menu every now and then, purposefully put him on idle so you can listen to his musings, and whenever he appears on scenes you would visibly deflate if the dialogues involving him are muted from your side. at such times, he takes one step closer to the idea of breaking this world's laws entirely, because if you wish to hear him then you should be able to - you should always get whatever you want, the deity that you are in his eyes.

like now, when you're gushing about him to what seems to be your friend. he's never heard of her before, but you seem close, and he feels the familiar twitch of his fingers, itching to reach out to you, to pull you close and smother you with his presence instead.

from the way you had to explain the basics of his world, he assumes your friend is a complete beginner entirely. but surprisingly she doesn't seem to be too impressed with him, despite the excitement that's filling your voice, and he can sense how agitated it made you. true enough, when he stealthily sneaks a glance, you're pouting a little before you launch into an explanation of how necessary of an addition he is to the team, and the workings behind the gacha system.

adorable.

... but your attention is slipping away from him. now that- he can't have that. he sighs and triggers the idle function with your favorite audio file that he frequently abuses, feeling his body and lips move as per the scripted codes.

"osmanthus wine-"

"zhongli, shush!"

...... what?

it was a reflex. a force of habit, you could say. no one likes to be talked over by someone else when they're talking, right?

"sorry, he's a little-"

you stop talking because suddenly, it's silent. the hair on the back of your neck rises.

"did you move the joystick?" you ask your friend, eyeing the now-still 3d model of your favorite character on the big tv screen.

"huh? no?" she answered, waving the gadget by its handle with one hand, "uh- didn't you say it has drifting problems? maybe it's that?"

".... yeah........ yeah, that's got to be it. anyway, as i was saying-"

zhongli is needlessly quiet for the rest of your little showcase. you continue to talk with your friend happily, the little event pushed to the back of your mind as you enjoy spending time with one of your favorite people, throwing jokes, laughs, and eventually turning off genshin to move on to celebrity crushes and a cute looking singer that's going to have his little concert in the city soon.

zhongli lets you.

for it would be the last time you could enjoy the such activity before he forcefully pulls you into their side.

to his side, where you rightfully belong to.

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @paintingsofdragonspine | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-lovee | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @niverine | @silentmoths

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask!

[mvltixcc]

Girls Like Girls - Robin Buckley X Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: Robin has a crush on the new girl in town. Y/N is also a new member of the cheer squad, which means Robin sees her all the time at games and other school events. Unfortunately, Robin is put in a tough situation. She's scared to talk to her because the cheerleaders have a reputation of being mean girls and she fears that Y/N may not feel the same. Little does Robin know that Y/N does not appear as she seems. Y/N becomes best friends with Eddie, which seems unlikely at the surface due to different social circles. This leads to rumors of course and word spreads like wildfire here at Hawkins, which then makes Robin's feelings even more confusing. After hanging out with Steve and the gang, Robin starts to see a different side to Y/N. Will they end up together or will they just remain friends?

Word Count: 1.2k

Pinterest board for inspiration

Chapter 1

“Have you guys seen the new girl around?” A peer in the band circle asked the group as they watched the cheerleaders all huddled together laughing with one another. Some chatter rang about, but Robin had stopped paying attention as she had watched you from afar. She didn’t know exactly how to feel about you. You were a mystery to her. She thought you were beautiful, but she was terrified to talk to you as the cheerleaders were known to be mean to everyone in sight. As Robin became lost in her thoughts, she felt a hard nudge in her side.

“Hello earth to Robin??” Someone asked.

“Ow, what the hell was that for?” Robin proclaimed as she rubbed the harsh spot.

“It’s time to go to our next class, didn’t you hear the bell?” Vickie said pointing to the sound of the bell going off. 

“Oh yeah of course, sorry.” Robin said, walking alongside her friend. 

Vickie started talking about band practice as they walked the halls to their next class. Once again Robin gets lost in her thoughts, spewing ‘yeahs’ and ‘mmhms’ here and there. As they were walking, Robin felt a hard bump in front of her causing her to fall.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you the-” Robin was cut off as she looked to see who she bumped into.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry, here let me help you!” Y/N exclaimed, helping Robin pick up her books. 

“Uh no no it- it’s okay, I’m alright. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I’m the one that’s sorry!” Robin stammered as she gathered her items. Your hands brushed up against one another as you both went to pick up the last item. Y/N looked up at her and flashed a small smile, making Robin’s cheeks turn a bright strawberry red. 

“Well now look what you did Y/N, such a clutz aren’t we?” Robin looked up to see the town freak, Eddie Munson, looking down at you both chuckling. Y/N stood up and playfully pushed Eddie and giggled. There were rumors about the two of you being an item, but that was all Robin thought it was. Rumors. But maybe it was true after all. Robin’s heart sank as she watched the two of you being playful with one another. Y/N turned back to Robin and gave a small wave goodbye. “I’ll see you guys around, I’m so sorry again!” You said to Robin as she and Eddie headed off to class. “Yeah see ya.” Robin said silently to herself as she watched you two walk off. 

“What was that about?” Vickie chuckled. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Robin tried to play it off in hopes that Vickie would drop the subject. 

“You were acting super weird, that's what I’m talking about.” “Look it’s nothing okay, just drop it!” Robin snapped, she hadn’t meant to. Vickie just nodded and sat down. “I’m sorry, I just- it’s nothing and I wish to not talk about it.” Robin apologized as she sat next to her.

The rest of the morning went by fast and felt like a blur. Robin strolled with her friends to their set table to eat lunch. Robin watched as Y/N and Eddie laughed with one another as she ate her lunch. She felt a harsh bang in her heart as she looked on at the scene from afar. She couldn’t believe that someone like you could be with someone like him. To be clear, Robin never hated Eddie, she didn’t think it was fair how he was treated by everyone. She believes he’s probably a good guy, she just didn’t think this was fair to her. Robin felt envious that Eddie got to be with you. That he got to make you laugh the way you did, she wished it had been her that did that with you instead. As she became lost in those thoughts, she was soon interrupted by a slam on the table in front of her.

“Hey Buckley, how’s it going?” Head cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham asked sarcastically. The other cheer members look on and  laugh behind her.

“What do you need, Cunningham?” Robin asked with a sigh, dreading what was to come of this unfortunate conversation. A few people had already been watching the scene unfold, as the slam of the table had alerted them. Robin tried her best not to make it worse, she didn’t want the entire lunchroom watching this all go down. 

“Do us all a favor and watch where you walk okay? We don’t need you to injure our star flyer.” The cheerleader spoke with a blunt tone. 

“Look I didn’t mean for it to happen and I already apologized to her. Accidents happen, don't you know?” Robin said as she tried to continue to eat her sandwich. Chrissy grabbed her sandwich and slammed it on the ground, which made the girls beyond her snicker even more. By this point more people were watching. 

“Oh great, here we go.” Robbin muttered under her breath. “Look I-”

“Leave her alone Chrissy! We bumped into each other and it was an accident, that’s it, nothing more!" Robin looked up to see you standing up to the captain of your team. Nobody ever dared to stand up to or defy Chrissy, they always followed her lead and did as they were told. The girls behind her watched in shock, they couldn’t believe what was happening before them. 

“Hmph. Just watch out next time okay?” Chrissy huffed and said before walking away from you both. 

“Are you alright?” Y/N asked, looking at her with soft eyes. 

“Uh yeah I’m- I’m okay, thanks.” Robin said, her cheeks turning a shade of red like before. 

“I’m so sorry about her, she had no right to get involved. If she bothers you again, you just let me know okay?” Y/N said with a soft smile and grabbing her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Robin nodded to you and before she could say anything, the bell rang once again indicating it was time to head to the next period. 

“Come on Y/N!” Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire club yelled. You turned around and held up a finger, letting them know to give you a moment. “Well I’ll see you later Robin!” You proclaimed with a warm smile, walking over to your friends. Robin felt butterflies from that smile you gave her. This was the most that you had both spoken to one another since you had moved here. Robin began to think that maybe you weren’t so mean and scary like she thought. If she couldn’t be with you like she would like to, then maybe you two could at least be friends.

Next chapter

[greenorangevioletgrass]

given the circumstances (part 1) | b.r.b.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: your relationship with Bradley goes from 0 to 100 after a little happy accident. [Part of “The Actress & The Aviator” universe]

word count: 5.9k

Warnings: established relationship, language, pregnancy, mention of vomit/nausea, accidental pregnancy, fluff, smut [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, hint of mommy kink?, breeding kink, size kink, creampie]

notes: they’re back babeyyyy! This is set about 1.5 years after the events in “It’s Classified”, and it fills in the gap of the blurbs I did a while ago. But you don’t have to read it first, this can be read as a standalone. I have missed writing for them so much, and I hope you enjoy reading this! <3

✨ follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

PART ONE

You’ve been New York-bound for six whole months, doing two shows on Broadway back-to-back. Bradley came to visit you for your musical’s opening night about two months in (and again for your second show, a modern take of Romeo & Juliet), but with your shows and his sudden deployment to God knows where for three months, the time and space apart was killing you.

Which is why you’re determined to take some time off as soon as you’re done, just to be with your stupidly handsome fiance at home in the stupidly sunny California.

Your first month or so was a bliss. You would wake up to the smell of your coffee, and saunter into the kitchen where Bradley would kiss you good morning. There’s no rigid structure to your days, save for the occasional work meetings. Most of your time is spent playing house with your fiance, redecorating the house you both barely lived in before you were called off to work. Wandering around and jotting down inspirations for your new screenplay. Treating yourself to frozen yogurts and manicures. Adjusting to life in the San Clemente neighborhood of Orange County. 

(Bradley made a joke about you joining The Real Housewives soon, which earned him an elbow to the rib. Whatever. He was more Housewife material than you anyway.)

But halfway through your second month, you started feeling lethargic and just… off. You chalked it up to the weather and exhaustion, since you’ve been back to work, going to pre-production meetings for your upcoming movie. You tried to brush it off with vitamins and heartier meals, powering through for a couple of days.

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good…” Bradley looks at you in concern when you shuffle into the kitchen that morning.

You’re really not, but you blatantly refuse to acknowledge that. “I’m fine. Still tired, is all. I just need some…” the coffee scent wafts in the air—the same scent that always woke you up in a good mood these past six months—and you gag. “Oh fuck.”

Bradley’s voice calling out your name sounds distant as you dash towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before you puke your guts out. 

“Hey…” he holds your hair back with one hand while the other rubs your back patiently. Staying calm despite his head is running a mile a minute in panic. “What happened, sweetheart?”

Everything feels like hell from your mouth to your stomach, and you groan as you pull the flush. “I have no idea. I just… I could smell the coffee and suddenly…” you motion at the toilet. “I mean, what the fuck?”

He sighs, wiping off sweat from your forehead and brushing the strands of hair sticking on it. “Maybe it’s stress?” he guesses, although they both know it’s unlikely. You’ve been keeping it relatively chill since you got here. “Or a stomach bug? Or…”

You look up to find his brown eyes softly gazing at yours, in worry and concern and… “Or what?”

He grimaces almost apologetically, and you slowly catch what he means.

“No. No way. Nuh-uh.” you shake your head so quickly, you give yourself a headache. “I’m on birth control. I’ve never missed a day…” That’s not true. As the words leave your mouth, you remember the surprise trip Bradley took you to Big Sur one weekend where you forgot both your pills and condoms…

Fuck.

“Babe… What date is it?”

He stammers for a bit, “Um, the— it’s the 18th.”

You do the mental math, counting the time gap between today and the Big Sur trip, and your last period… and your eyes widen. Your head is swirling, and so is your stomach.

“Sweetheart, do you think you might be—”

Before he can say the damned word, you feel the bile rising again. Your pointer finger lifts up in wait, as you bury your face in the toilet and throw up once more.

His heart catches. You’ve talked about having a baby, and you’ve talked about wanting to have one… some time in the future. He didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Butterflies fill his stomach at the possibility of you carrying his baby right now at this very moment, but the sight of you looking so… defeated by your own body is enough to create a nasty pit in his gut.

“What can I get for you, baby?” he asks softly, caressing the back of your neck.

There’s absolutely nothing else to empty from your stomach at this point. It’s basically just water and dry heaving, and your eyes are tearing up from the terrible sensation.

“Ginger ale from the fridge…” you manage between heavy breaths, “...and some test packs from the pharmacy, please.”

“Okay, sure. Got it. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He offers both his hands and gently pulls you up. If he’s nervous or excited or both, he does a pretty good job of not showing it. He pulls up some tissues from the bathroom counter and wipes your mouth without batting an eye.

He lays you down on your side, getting you all nice and comfy, before disappearing into the kitchen, returning with a can of ginger ale and a puke bucket, just in case.

“Sweetheart?” his hand is soft and warm on your cheek, and his voice even more so. “Drink up. Hope it’ll settle your stomach a little bit.”

You sit up a little, and take small sips from the can. At least it helps alleviate the bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I put your phone on the bedside. Call me if you need me, alright? I’m just gonna run over to CVS. Be back before you know it.” He kisses your forehead, and you make a face in protest.

“I’m gross right now!”

“I don’t care,” he chuckles. “Just rest up. Love you.”

Of course he knows what to do. Picture perfect Bradley Bradshaw, who knows how to be caring without being overbearing. Who kisses your clammy forehead after you puke your guts out. Who is literally running to the nearest drugstore to get her pregnancy test packs right now, for fuck’s sake. He’s just… perfect.

You lie back down and smush your face into the pillow, faced with the fact that you’ll never be able to live up to that. And if you can’t… how the hell are you supposed to raise a child? How the hell are you supposed to pull your weight when your fiance can already do it so well?

“Babe?” He calls out upon entering the house a few short minutes later. “I’m back. I got the…” his words trail off as he walks into the bedroom and sees you in tears. His whole features soften up as he approaches you gingerly, sitting by your side. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

You shake your head as you sit up, sniffling a little. “What are those?” You nod at the paper bag he put down on the foot of the bed, hoping it’ll divert the conversation a little. It’s a little too big for just a bunch of pregnancy test sticks.

“The tests. And some snacks I thought might help with your stomach.”

And with that, the tears burn the corners of your eyes again and your lips quiver as they fail to hold back the cries.

“How are you so good at this?!”

He pauses in confusion, and then… it dawns on him. An amused glint appears in his eyes. “Are you… crying because I got a good bedside manner?” 

Your hands fly up to your face, hiding it from view. “I’m not! Shut up!” You really were, but he didn’t have to say it like that… and your reaction only confirmed his speculation. 

Bradley chuckles. God, he loves your silly little antics. “I mean, I had to take care of my mom all through high school, so…” he shrugs sheepishly.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. An uncomfortable awkwardness sets in as you remember his late mother’s terminal illness, right in the peak of his high school years. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m just… glad I’m doing it right?” He smiles in reassurance, wiping what’s left of your tears and kissing your nose. He lifts up the ginger ale can to your hand again. “You lost a lot of fluids to make up for. Drink up some more, and we’ll do the tests, yeah?”

You glance at the paper bag again, watching him fishing around… “How many pregnancy test packs did you get?”

“I got three just to be safe.”

You want to laugh, but you probably would’ve ransacked the test kits too, if you were the one to buy it. So instead, you nod slowly, ponderously. “Three is… three is good.”

You know how these test kits work, they’re all the same, but you insist on reading the instructions pamphlet anyway. With two other test kits to spare, Bradley simply takes another copy from another box to read.

“Pee on a stick, wait for up to 5 minutes.” You put down the pamphlet on the counter. “Easy enough.” You sigh like it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

And it is. Every tick of the clock feels louder and farther from the one before, and you’re trying your damnedest not to look back onto the counter where the blue-tipped sticks are lined up. Inspecting it up close and see the lines that appear.

You sigh in exasperation, breaking the stilted silence. “I don’t even know what I’m hoping for, if I’m honest. Is that weird?”

He shakes his head a little. “Not at all. This is a weird situation to be in, I think it makes sense if we’re still not sure what we want.”

“Do you know what you’re hoping for?” You turn your head towards him. Maybe you’ll know it when you hear it. 

“Honestly? No.” Yes. He knows exactly what he wants. He just doesn’t want to admit it and freak you out even more. “I’m just thinking about you. About us…”

“What about us?”

“Just that… whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Bless him. It would be infuriating if you weren’t so comforted by it. Leave it to Bradley to always know just the right thing to say.

And he means every word of it too. Yes, he wants a baby with you now, but you don’t, or if it doesn’t turn out to be now, then… he can stand to wait a little more. For as long as you need.

“How long do we have left?”

Bradley joins your gaze towards the nautical clock on the wall. A silly little gag gift you gave him last Christmas, for your favorite flying seaman. 

“Three minutes and fifteen seconds…?”

“That’s about the average length of a pop song.”

He grins. “Exactly. One pop song, and we’ll find out.”

You nod. Listening to the tick, tick, tick of the clock. It drones on and on, and it seems to lull slower as it goes. Fuck Einstein and his theory of relativity. You pick the first random song that pops into your head and holds onto it for dear life. It’s your only way of keeping track of the time, at this point.

“I took my love, I took it down…” you sing under your breath, tentatively.

Bradley snorts. “It’s a good song.” That’s an understatement. He adores Fleetwood Mac, and this is the first song he learned on the guitar when he was 10.

“Climbed a mountain and I turned around…” you throw him a side-eye, a more than obvious invitation to join you.

Bradley has his eyes closed, though. But he nods along and sings along in his warm voice, “And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hill…”

“‘Til the landslide brought me down.” 

The two of you are singing with your whole chests now, belting out the chorus to drown out your nerves, forcing yourself to stay on tempo even when you feel like rushing it to the end. Right now, it’s more like Nick Miller’s nervous singing from New Girl than a beautiful bathroom jam session, but you don’t care. Bradley is vocalizing the guitar solo part like the back of his hand, playing the air guitar and everything, and you’re so, so happy that out of all the people in the world, you’re doing this with him. 

And at that moment, you realize that your worries earlier today were misguided. Yes, Bradley knows how to take care of you, and he probably knows a thing or two about babies. But he’s on your side. He’ll be pulling the weight with you. Being good parents is not a competition—you know he’ll cheer you on like he is doing right now. He knows you’ll do the same for him, too. 

Well I’ve been afraid of changes

‘cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder, even children get older

and I’m getting older too

You didn’t notice it at first, but Bradley also softens up on the final chorus, lost in his own thoughts. He has built his life on self-preservation, protecting himself from the lies of the people he loved, and depriving him of the love and family he’s always wanted. But maybe it’s age or the wounds healing (or you swooping into his life at just the right moment)… but he’s not gonna live forever. He knows in his heart of hearts that he wants this baby. He wants this life with you.

When you ask him to look and tell you the results, he doesn’t even flinch. He just nods, kissing your temple as he reaches for all three test kits behind you. His hand shakes a little as he picks them up, though, flipping to see the indicator side. One line for negative, two for positive.

And there it is.

“They’re…” his throat catches, his face unreadable. “They’re all positive…”

“What?”

He shows you the test kits, two blue lines all across the board. His voice wavers, with tears and smiles at the same time. “We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God…” you walk into his arms in a daze, still not sure what you’re feeling. Are you relieved because you simply know the answer, or relieved because it’s true? Are you terrified because you want it or you don’t?

Bradley cups your face with both hands, tucking unruly strands of hair behind your ear. His brown eyes brimming with tears, blurry as he admires your beauty. The mother of his child. Gosh, he can’t believe his luck.

“How do you feel, honey?”

It tugs at your heartstrings, just how soft he is. So brave, and so gentle at the same time. You have no idea what kind of parent you would be, but you know he would make a great one. “Shocked,” you admit. He nods. “Scared.” This time, you’re a bit embarrassed, but he completely empathizes. “But…” you put your hand over his, closing your eyes as you lean your cheek against his palm, so warm and soft and right, “…happy.”

***

And after two months of a relatively slow life, things are going from zero to 100 very quickly.

Bradley manages to duck out of work early and take you to the doctor that very afternoon. Everything seems to be in order. The baby is, indeed, there— a 7-week-old blob as big as a blueberry with a heartbeat.

Heartbeat.

Your heart all but stops beating when you first hear it, much stronger than you thought it would. But there it is. Strong. Alive.

There. 

“That’s… that’s our baby…” You choke up, staring at the ultrasound screen in awe. His hand brings yours to his lips for a loving kiss.

Gosh, you must’ve cried about six times that day. Bradley twice as much (He would deny it to his grave, but you kept count.)

And then, once the novelty wears off a little and the new situation sets in… the two of you get to work.

Bradley updates the entire kitchen inventory and goes into a research (or, as you like to call it, a rabbit hole) into what you can or cannot consume during your pregnancy. You’re constantly on the phone with your agent to rearrange your schedule for the next year (he sounds happy that you’re expecting, but a little inconvenienced that he has to move some things around and even cancel your involvement in a few projects). Conversation topics at mealtimes now include baby names, nursery ideas, and childcare plans.

Bradley comes home to you huddled over your laptop one evening, brows knitted in focus. The AC is cranked up to the max in the summer heat, and you’re all bundled up in the throw blanket. He wants to squee over how cute you look. He puts down the takeout bag of Pad Thai on the coffee table.

“Whatcha got there, my little cocoon?”

“Insurance, mostly.” You look up to kiss him briefly, before you continue typing on. “I’ve been talking to them all afternoon, going through the birth plans and sorting everything out. Very exciting stuff.”

“Hell yeah! Paperwork! The thrill of calling up an insurance company on a Tuesday!” Bradley counters your deadpan with an overexcited cheer, flopping himself on the spot next to you with another big kiss. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Well,” you take a thoughtful deep breath, going through your mental to-do list and realizing… you’re pretty much all set. “How about a back massage?” You give him the puppy eyes, as if you needed it in the first place.

“Copy that, Ma’am.” He throws her a lazy salute and tugs the throw blankets off of you. He starts on your shoulders, noticing the tension under your skin. “Jeez, babe. How long have you been hunched over here?”

Before you can answer him, he’s already working the knots on the base of your neck, you don’t even know you were so tense there, and you respond with a resounding moan.

He raises his eyebrows. “I’ll… take that as a compliment, then.” He grins, ever so proud that he’s eliciting these sounds out of you.

It’s not like you were playing it up or anything. You really were tense, and his hands really do feel good. And while it does make you moan and sigh blissfully, it’s hardly your fault that it makes him think of something else, right?

“Baby…” his voice sounds like a gentle warning.

“Yes?”

His hands stop. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh, okay. Would you prefer this instead?” you grunt oafishly, a piss-poor impression of him in bed, “Fuck baby, that’s it. That’s it. Good girl…”

“Hey!” he pokes his fingers to your side and cage you in his arms so you have nowhere to go. Nowhere to avoid his ministrations.

You giggle uncontrollably, squirming as he gets on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face. A mere distraction to his real tickle attacks. “Stop! Stop! Roo-roo!”

He pins your arms over your head, his cheeks tinged pink with mischief now. “Yield?”

“I’m willing to negotiate.” You flash him a coy smirk.

He frowns. Go on. 

You raise an eyebrow. You know what I’m talking about.

He raises his, mirroring you. Interesting…

You tilt your head slightly. Well?

And just like that…

“Deal.” 

Your lips meet each other halfway in a searing kiss. The pregnancy hormones are kicking in in full gear, and you’re needier. Much needier than you already are. You want Bradley all the time, in whatever form he’s in, in whatever situation you are in. He knows this, and he finds this endlessly adorable. He would poke fun at you for that…

If only he wasn’t so god-fucking-damned enamored by you for it.

He tears off your dress, reveling in the sheer sight of you. Your curves growing softer, more pronounced in the past month alone. The very subtle but steadfast roundness of your belly. Your breasts, as they grow fuller and—

“Oh…” you whimper as he rolls your nipple between your fingers.

More sensitive to the touch.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this…” he leans down to kiss you again; on the mouth, and on the neck… his tongue gliding across your collarbones, forming the shape of your mounds, one after another…

“Roo, take me to bed…”

“Or what, lose me forever?”

He grazes the outer parts of your nipple with his teeth and teasingly licks at the hardened tops, and you cry out. Such a small little thing, but you feel the sensation in your fingertips.

Bradley smiles. A soft look despite how the situation is escalating. “C’mere, baby.”

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he lifts you up off of the couch. You think it’s just to get you up on your feet, but then he’s not letting go. “You’re not seriously thinking about carrying me all the way upstairs, right?” A teasing frown sets on your face as he hauls you out of the living room.

“Are you assuming that I can’t carry my beautifully pregnant wife to our room?”

“I’m not your wife yet, you know— oh shit!” He pins you against the wall right by the stairs, one hand cradling the back of your head, ever so caring.

He mouths your neck in teasing, his breath fanning against your bare skin. “No? So I don’t have to perform my husbandly duties now, since you’re not my wife?”

It’s kind of hot… but you can’t help but make a face at his choice of words. “You need to stop watching Downton Abbey. Just say ‘fuck.’ It’s not that hard.”

He pulls away, his comeback locked and loaded and ready to go. “You can’t tell me what to do. Who are you, my wife or something?”

“Ugh!” your jaw falls open in a mock offended expression, and you smack his ass playfully.

In turn, he squeezes yours back. Tight. Possessive. There’s a shift in his gaze, a tiny sliver, a darkening—the kind that makes you feel even more naked than you already are. You look at him with unbridled lust, and he kisses you like it’s the only way he can breathe. Like he’s been holding his breath until he can get his hands on you.

And by God, you would let him have all the air you have left to give.

He carries up to the bedroom slowly, carefully, and you hold onto him tight. Reveling in how strong he’s built, all muscles and abs and everything, and how gentle he handles you as he sets you down on the edge of the bed. The epitome of a gentleman, as he kneels down between your legs.

You can feel the heat emanating from him—or is it you?— and you try to unbutton his khaki uniform. “Baby, don’t you wanna take off your…” your words die out as his chest moves out of reach. There is only his hair between your thighs.

His tongue between your folds.

“Fuuuuck…” you bite through your teeth. And once his finger joins in, you’re done for. 

You make no effort to hold back your obscene moans, but the wet sounds coming from your pussy are still louder. Your face grows hot as the noise bounces through your bedroom walls.

Bradley pulls his mouth away for a moment, smirking devilishly at you from between his legs. “Well well well… What’s got you this soaking wet, honey?”

You bite your lip, trying to keep it together. But you’re teetering dangerously closer to your release, and you whine out, “You, Daddy…”

He chuckles darkly. “Daddy’s got you all worked up, huh?” The use of the moniker has significantly increased since the news of your pregnancy, but you’re hardly complaining. It does hit different now that he’s actually gonna be one. “I’ve been home for two minutes, and you’re already dripping down your legs…” he slaps the inside of your thigh and you’re keeling into it. “So fucking cute.”

He watches you fuck yourself on his fingers and it makes you dizzy. “Please…”

“Please what?” His mustache tickles your clit, and it drives you wild. “Please stop?”

You whimper in protest.

He adds another finger into you, and raises an expectant eyebrow. This fucking asshole. A snide remark sits right at the tip of your tongue, but the only thing that comes out is,

“Please fuck me.”

He stops, straightening up with an intrigued look about him. Then, being a little shit, he comes back up to you with a kiss. “Good girl. There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You taste yourself on his lips, his mustache wet from your arousal, too. In any other case, you would be more proactive, more feral in returning his sentiment—tearing off his clothes and stuffing your mouth full of his cock. But lately you’ve been feeling more… submissive. So easily drunk on climax that you just surrender your pleasure to your man, knowing he’ll take care of you. 

Bradley stands up to his full height, towering over you. He toes off his shoes, unbuttoning his uniform. It’s hardly a striptease routine, but there’s something insanely hot about him undressing when he’s about to fuck you.

His shirt drops to the floor, and the white undershirt soon joins. You perk up at the sound of his belt unbuckling, pants rustling down. And as his hard cock springs free from his boxers, you swallow thickly at the sight. 

“You ready?” He pumps his fist around his hard-on a few times, as he settles between your legs, still standing on the side of the bed.

A quiet little please escapes you, and then a gasp, as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed. Lining up his cock against your entrance. He’s big, and your pussy is still aching after he edged you moments ago. It’s gonna be a tight fit.

“Honey, go slow. Please. Slowslowslowslow… ahh!” His cock slides into you in one swift movement, sending a blinding wave of pain and pleasure as it stretches you out.

He doesn’t tear his eyes off of you. He watches your face fall under his undoing, and he moans. “You feel so good, baby…” he says between heavy breaths. You’re always so strong and bold and ballsy, and it gives him a fucking power trip to see you look so… small taking on his cock.

You let out a pathetic whimper as he starts to shallowly thrust in and out of you.

“What is it, baby?” He coos, caressing your hip gently.

“Y’too big…”

“Too big?” Bradley looks down to level your gaze, a seed of a shit-eating grin plastered on his stupid face. “You want me to stop? Is that what you want?”

“No!” You buck up into him as soon as his hips halt, desperately trying to maintain the pace.

He chuckles, that cocky fuck, before he finally continues driving his dick up your inner walls again. “No? You want me to keep stretching you, then?”

You nod. Every thrust feels bigger, deeper, more than the rest, hitting that spot of pleasure just barely, and you’re willing to do anything to stay there.

“Been so needy since I got you pregnant…” he kisses your neck. “Want Daddy more now that I made you a mommy, huh?”

Fuck. The words—the exact order of the words he said sounds batshit insane. You never considered this kind of dirty talk to be hot, but Jesus…

“God, I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round… your tits too, fuck…” he groans as he squeezes your soft flesh, rubbing your nipples with his thumb. “Gonna be a mommy and show everyone who you belong to, huh?”

“Mmh…” You’ve seen Bradley being possessive, and you’ve seen him tap into his primal side, but not like this. This is a whole other beast, and it shocks you how much it turns you on.

“All mine, huh?”

“I’m all yours, Daddy. I’m—fuck. Fuck!” Your whole body is shaking. The band in your core is wound up so tight, and it’s threatening to snap. 

And through it all, he doesn’t let up. Bradley keeps that rhythm, pounding into you hard and deep. “Shit, that’s it… that’s it, baby. Come on my cock. God, you’re so fucking tight…”

There’s no stopping it now… your pussy gushes and clenches around him, as shocks of pleasure wave through your system. Your mind goes blank, and for a hot second, nothing is registering in your brain. Nothing but your man, as obscenely as he is fucking your brains out right now, 

“Need your cum inside me, Roo…”

“Don’t wanna come anywhere else. Just you, just your pussy…” he breathes out. He’s close, that much you can tell. His pace is erratic and his mouth runs wild. “Gonna keep pumping you full of my cum. Gonna keep fucking babies into you until you can’t anymore.”

You would laugh. You would tease him for being such a caveman about it. But as he comes deep inside you, his hips stuttering one, two, three more times as he rides out his orgasm… you don’t only surrender to the idea; you welcome it. 

Maybe you’re completely fucked out. Maybe you’re going soft and mellow, but nothing—and you mean nothing— is hotter than what he wants to do to you.

What he is doing to you now. 

The room falls into a pleasant silence as you come down from your high. Bradley pulls out of you, and you gush out with your own release and his. His mouth falls open in awe. “Fuck, that’s hot…”

“Huh?” You lift your head from the bed, trying to see what he’s looking at.

“Nah, it’s just…” he shakes his head with a grin. “Good thing we’re already pregnant, huh? If we weren’t, that might’ve just done the trick.”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a sweet peck on the cheek. “I think the dirty talk alone was enough to do it.”

He blushes, a deep shade of red. He absolutely can’t take it when you quote back the things he said to you during sex. “Nope! Not a single word. La-la-la-la…” he closes his ears with his fingers, waddling over to the bathroom comically.

The sound of water trickling into the toilet coincides with your laugh in the bedroom… and then it gets drowned out with the flush. It’s a mundane little snapshot of your intimate lives together.

He comes up to you and offers his hands. “Come on…” he helps you get up. “You go ahead and clean up. I’ll change the sheets.”

Leave it up to Bradley, to always take initiatives to do the small things, like changing the sheets and ushering your ass to the bathroom after sex.

As you clean up and put on some clothes in the bathroom, Bradley singing Take My Breath Away to himself in the other room, you wonder how all of this will turn out. Change is inevitable—your belly is getting bigger, this new stage of relationship is getting more real— and you’re desperate to get a grasp on these things. It’s strange to be so anxious after such a lovely evening. But it’s been so good so far… too good, maybe… and you can’t help but wonder if the other shoe might drop.

“Everything alright?” Bradley pops up by the bathroom door, already in sweatpants and a t-shirt. You must’ve been in there for a while.

You nod absently. “Yeah, just… changing.” And you’re not sure whether you’re talking about the clothes you just put on, or the body you inhabit.

“I think you look beautiful,” he says so simply. Wrapping his arms around you, feeling your small bump. He smiles into your hair and whispers, “My beautiful wife…”

“Not your wife yet…” you remind him pointedly, teasingly. It’s one of your favorite pastimes, keeping him on his toes.

He turns you around to face him, a tender look seemingly permanent on his face whenever he sees you these days. “I mean, you’re here, with me, in our house, carrying our baby…” he kisses your nose, “As far as I’m concerned, that makes you my wife, doesn’t it?”

Well, when he puts it like that… you take a deep sigh, not hating the idea. But not quite ready to concede to his argument yet. “Apart from a piece of paper.”

“Ah well. That can easily be arranged, hmm?”

Truth be told, he’s got a point. The only differentiating factor to your status right now is a little certificate, and both your signatures on the dotted lines. Not a big party or a horrendously expensive dress that everybody would have an opinion on. And to be more truthful, it was never what you wanted in the first place.

You only ever want to be together.

And you’re free to decide how you want to be together.

“Should we just do it?”

“What?”

You look up at him with a tentative smile.

His eyes light up, and his heart leaps. “I mean, sure.” He chuckles. “We can go down to the courthouse. Or, hell, I’ll drive us to Vegas right now.”

It gets a giggle out of you. Of course he would jump at the opportunity to marry you right away. “Or… we can just celebrate it with our closest friends and family? Rent a beach house somewhere, and just… make a fun weekend out of it?”

“And just… what, get a justice of the peace to marry us?”

You shrug with an easy smile. “Or we can make Mav cry and ask him to officiate.”

He chuckles, but trails off as it sinks in. It has never occurred to him that that was an option. He’s always imagined it the traditional way. A church ceremony followed by a reception in a hall somewhere. Walking under the arch of swords. Looking dapper in his dress uniform. But with his work obligations and yours, and all the nightmare logistics of guest numbers and venues and entertainment and the fucking publicity that comes with your fame, both of you are well aware that it’s a hassle. 

And it’s not even the most important part.

The most important part is you. You’d be the one meeting him at the altar. You’d be the one saying your vows and making him cry happy tears.

You would be the one. 

For him.

Forever.

“Let’s do it.” Bradley nods resolutely. “Just you, me, and our closest people. We can get married in our jammies, for all I care.”

“Maybe not jammies…” you roll your eyes in amusement. “I still wanna look nice for our wedding, you know.”

“You look nice in your jammies.” He glances down at your tank top.

“Roo.” You cover his line of sight indignantly.

But he tugs your hand away, eyes still glued to what is arguably one of his favorite sights in the world. Your cleavage. Plays it off really coolly as he teases you. “No, no. I’m serious. You look really nice in your jammies. I really wouldn’t object to—”

You swat his hand, only half-serious. “Bradley.”

“Alright, fine!” He raises his hands in surrender. “So long as I get to call you my wife.”

“Not your wife yet…” you saunter out of the bathroom, knowing full well he doesn’t care.

To be completely honest, you’re not even sure that you do, either.

[dendro-bunny]

Drawn to you like the sea to the shore ======================

Rafayel X Reader

(A/N): bro- why am I actually like this man having inspiration to write at 12 am. Like am I ok? Idk anyway I wrote this in one sitting and I forgot how to write… it’s been so long :(

Warning: Suggestive, pretty fluffy, light body dysmorphia (why does this work have a ‘y’ in it? Like English please chill for once!) 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As you push the door from your bathroom you look at your boyfriend bashfully. You pull on your dress away from your body. You give a small cough to draw his attention.

“Ahem… Ralfy? Uh are you sure this is ok? I’m not sure this is the right outfit for me?” You start shifting on your heels.

Smugly he opens his mouth to say something, then he looks up from his phone and his jaw drops. The words escape him with a gasp. His eyes rake over your figure drinking the sight of you in. In what feels like forever he looks at your face through his lashes.

“Sorry was distracted, what did you say cutie?” Rafayel gives you a cunning smile while tilting his head.

“Maybe I should take it off-” you go to turn around to the bathroom and feel yourself be tugged. You feel your back hit a chest and you look up to see Rafayel staring at you with a serious expression. As your big doe eyes look at him he groans and stuffs his face in your neck.

“Don’t take it off my muse, you look like a true masterpiece. One that I could never recreate.” You feel his hands start to trace your sides, from the bottom of your thighs up to your shoulders. Paying extra attention to every curve and crevice of your body.

“God and the scent you have on drives me wild-“ he cuts himself off by inhaling you deeply before letting out a groan. “I know you think you look bad but babe trust me you look ravishing, the way your hair sculpts your face and your eyes give off the most gorgeous hue, not to mention your lips.” He turns you to face him. His hand caresses your face. A hand firmly pulls you close to him as he plants a feverish kiss against your mouth. Like he’s depraved and hungry for you.

Rafayel was always passionate about everything he does, when inspiration strikes that is. When it came to you he always had inspiration. Always knew what to say to you always knew how to hold you even, if he was a big tease about it. With his kisses he always puts his 100 into it. All the words that elude him he puts into his kisses.

He pulls away only to breathe for a moment before leaving hungry pecks on your lips and jaw. “Maybe I should take that off of you, and show you how much I want you.” You can only whimper not being able to get a word out.

Your common sense tells you to push him away so you actually make it to Ms. Talia’s event on time for once, but the other part of you wants him to. It wants him to so bad. Your skin feels like his evol is crawling underneath it. You feel your back pushed against a cool surface.

“Raf- Rafayel please.” “What are you asking for cutie? Fishies like me don’t understand human gestures.” He taunts with a laugh. He goes back to leaving marks over your neck and shoulders.

“Please… T-Talia is waiting for us…” You barely manage to push out between pants. He grumbles something against your neck and huffs. “Rafayel we promised to be on time this time.” You give him pleading eyes and he caves. He steps back as a groan of annoyance comes from his puffy lips.

“Why did you have to go and make that promise babe, especially when you look so good.” He gives you a lovesick smile and squeezes your hips. “Then I’ll change so you aren’t so… distracted.” You look at him as his eyes scan over your freshly made bruises.

“Good luck with that cutie, I’m always distracted by you. No matter what you, especially when you aren’t wearing anything and you’re in my bed underneath- Oof.” You cut him off by throwing a nearby plush at him. You scream a few profanities at him and walk into the bathroom trying to hide your flushed expression.

“Yeah you do that a lot underneath me to- ow! Was that a toilet paper roll?!” He picks up his expensive toilet paper laughing.

“Next time it’s the whole toilet!” You slam the door and a howl of laughter comes from the other side of the door. You swear that lemurian was gonna be the death of you.

•————————————•—————————————•

Holy shit did not think I’d write again- but like THIS MAN HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD LIKE THE PURE FILTH IN MY MIND OF HIM IS IMMACULATE-

Ahem anyway maybe I’ll write more but this is a gift, very late valentines gift XD

[non-stop-imagines]

Red Lipstick Smudged

From this request 💖🤭

Pairing: Esteban Ocon x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you and Esteban just...couldn't wait.

Word Count: ~3.0k words

Warning: Porn with a plot??? (Let's just pretend that's true, car sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and all that jazz), online translator French, ruining clothing, Very mild orgasm denial but it's still there; Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: Whew! I don't know why or how but, uh, yeah. Here this is. This request was a surprising one even though the actual request was simple, I was surprised to see it when it first came in. And what better song to use? 🤣 Now this is mainly based off that second part of Partition (y'all know 😏), but it gave me great smut writing practice so I ain't complaining if y'all aren't. Also, shoutout to 🌶️ anon, you are always just so sweet and kind and supportive and I think like you said, me going and doing something else brought new inspiration for that Carlos fic so, 💋 for you. And thank you to all my anons, with and without symbols, for showing me kindness and being patient with me and checking in on me. Whenever I get those messages it immediately calms my worries because I'm so glad that I have been able to create an environment where we feel comfortable checking on each other. 💖🩷 ANYWAY, happy reading! Hope you guys enjoy! Love you all!! 💖💛💖💛

Translations: Putain, ne me taquine pas.=Fuck, don't tease me; continue, chérie=keep going, darling; Ne pleurnichez pas.=Don't whine; Les yeux sur la putain de route.=Eyes on the fucking road; Regarde, pêches.=Look, peaches.

Masterlist

   "You look amazing, as always." These words come after your boyfriend gets out of the backseat of the car waiting for you two, politely waving away the driver so he can be the one to open the door for you. After getting in you dab on a bit more lipstick while you and the driver waited for Esteban to get in.

   "Merci, mon amour." You give light greeting kisses to the sides of your boyfriends face and then a very light peck to his lips in an effort not to transfer any of your red lipstick.

   "What was that!?" He sounded mock offended at the briefness of the kiss, obviously desiring something bit more than just a peck from his girlfriend.

   "What? I didn't use the smudge proof one. It's a pain trying to get it off and the color of this one is brighter. I just don't want to get it on your lips." Your thumb swipes at his lips in order to remove the little bit of color that did transfer from the kiss you gave him a moment ago, a gesture to which he instinctively accepts.

   "You know I don't care about getting your lipstick on me." He couldn't take his eyes off of you when you took out a compact to check your lipstick. He loved red on you, and you knew it. That's why you wore the dress and the lipstick. You wanted to drive him absolutely insane at the event you two were on your way to. Wanted to see how long it would take for him to crumble and take you to the nearest secluded place to fuck you senseless.

   "You don't mind lipstick getting on certain places." You click the compact mirror closed and give Esteban a cheeky side eye as you put it back in your pearly silver clutch.

   "What do you mean by that?" He leaned his elbow on the back of the limo seat, his hand pushing back your soft hair that fell out of its place. He then realized you got your hair done, silk press and mildly curled to create soft waves.

   "Do I have to remind you of the times you asked me to put this on before sucking your dick?" The look you gave him was a grave contrast to the words you just said, innocent and adoring.

   "Ah. Can you blame me though? Your pretty red lips wrapped around my cock, leaving smudges, it's a lovely sight." He was trying to play it cool as your hand slowly crawled up his thigh, but he could feel his pants getting tighter, more uncomfortable.

   "Well, the venue is another 45 minutes. I could give you a little show…" Your hands found their way to the hem of his pants, slowly undoing his belt.

   "But the driver…" You were already crawling down between Esteban's thighs and pushing down his pants to expose his underwear more by the time he voiced his concern.

   "Just tell him to roll up the partition." You continue your task of releasing his hard dick from the confines of his underwear, leaving him to instruct the driver in French.

   You couldn't lie. You loved his dick. It was long, which, even though Esteban was tall and skinny so it should be expected, surprised you every time you saw it. It curves toward his belly button slightly, and the mauve tip was already leaking in anticipation. You look up at him through your eyelashes, maintaining eye contact as you kiss the head of his cock and let just the tip into your mouth, popping it back out a moment later.

   "Putain, ne me taquine pas." You flash a pretty smile up at him, knowing you already complete control over him. He would always revert to speaking French when filled with high emotion, or in this case, anticipating the feeling of your warm mouth around his hard cock. You decide to be nice and not tease him any longer, opening your mouth wide to take as much of him as you could at that moment in your mouth, reminding yourself to relax your jaw, hollow out your cheeks and breathe through your nose. You pull back after going just barely halfway down his dick, licking your way up it with a flat tongue to distribute spit and possibly make it easier to get him further into your mouth.

   Esteban's view of you was unmatched. Your eyes would move between maintaining eye contact with him and an intense focus on his dick. Your full red lips were the perfect transition as he watched his dick disappear and reappear from your mouth, and sure enough there were faint red streaks of lipstick along portions of his cock. Your dress had hiked up due to your kneeling position being unfavorable for the fabric of the dress, so the bottom half of your ass was visible. Your hair was desperately out of place, the previous streamline look now slightly puffier, some portions obviously misplaced. Esteban tries to reach to fix it, but you signal for him to wait.

   "I'm sweating so it fucked anyway. Leave it." You suck him back into your mouth, regaining the head bobbing pace you had moments before, and using a hand to get whatever wasn't fitting. Your tongue enjoyed the warmth and texture of his dick, and the pleasure you could see clouding his brain made you hornier by the second. You continued to try hard to get as much as you could of him in your mouth, gagging when the tip reaches the back of your throat, and trying to focus on your breathing to distract you from the sensation. But this didn't stop the excess spit from dripping down your chin and tears from producing, and in your pleasure and concentration, it completely slipped your mind that you opted for regular mascara instead of lashes that night, that was until your boyfriend wiped below your eye and showed you the running mascara.

   "You're wearing mascara. What about the lashes you usually wear?" The sentence came out prolonged and shaky since him promoting conversation didn't stop you from sucking on him.

   "I got a stye the last time, remember? So I decided to give them a break." You had taken him out of your mouth to answer but kept stroking him with your hands, using the lathered spit to make the action easier. Every bit of makeup on your face was smudged, but your innocent eyes looking up at him as you spoke so matter-of-factly brought him unbearably close to a climax he didn't know he was at.

   "Oh. Oh-continue, chérie." You smile again, giggling at the response that you were getting from him, then going back to bobbing your head, mentally competing with yourself, seeing if you could get past your gag reflex to take him deeper. You were taken off guard when you felt the buck of Esteban's hip, succeeding in pressing more of his dick into your mouth, the abrupt action producing more tears from your eyes and for more lathered spit to bubble from your mouth. He fucks your face a couple more times, but when you couldn't take it anymore you remove your mouth and resort to your hands to give your jaw a rest. You were beautiful and messy, satisfied with the work you had done and your facial expressions showed it, and just this sight drove Esteban over the edge. He gave no warning for the spurts of cum that came shooting from his cock, landing on various places of your face and chest, with some of it ending up on your dress.

   "Damn it! You got cum on my dress. I could figure out the hair situation but this…is there anything we can use to clean it up?" You sat back on your heels and examined the splotch, wondering how and if you were able to get it off before getting to the charity event both Alpine drivers were invited to attend. Esteban had his mind on other things though, pushing more of his pants down while you weren't paying attention.

   "To be honest, Pêches, the last thing on my mind is this fucking event. Come here." He takes one of your hands that was tending to your dress and attempts to guide you up to his lap. You were hesitant at first, for what reason you had no idea because after seeing Esteban's lap, slender toned thighs and semi-hard dick dripping reminiscence of cum onto the bottom of his button up, you were quick to straddle his waist, you widened thighs finishing the job of bunching the bottom of your dress at your waist. You almost immediately start rolling your his into his, you covered pussy gliding over him, the wetness it produced soaking through and getting on his dick. 

   The scene of hips gyrating into each other was a drastic contrast to the scene of your two faces observing each other. You scanned down his face, sweat beading around his brows, cheeks flushed and tinged red, and his lips, which you take a moment longer to study, were redder and you could see faint teeth marks in the bottom one. Esteban was still enamored by the messy look of your makeup, accented by a small streak of cum on your left cheek that he goes to wipe away. Your eyes conveyed an extreme amount of love and lust, nonverbally telling him exactly how much you loved him and how horny he made you, and boy, was the feeling mutual.

   Esteban leaned in for a kiss, tilting his head up slightly since you kneeling on the seat made you tower over him slightly. You place your hands on the sides of his face to finish bringing him in for the kiss, purposefully making it sloppy to ensure the red on your lips fully transferred to his. His hands made their obvious way to your ass, gripping each cheek with long slender fingers, riding along as you continued to grind on him.

   "Where are we? Are we close to the venue?" You move from kissing his lips to down his neck, leaving lipstick stains wherever they went. Esteban briefly looks out the windows, then utters something to the driver that he has to repeat since the first time it was obstructed by the rolled up partition. "What did you say?" You were still rolling your hips, finding the sensation almost comforting now, and your lips were swollen from the incessant kissing.

   "I told him to drive past and take us back home. I'll text Pierre later. He owes me for the last time, anyway. Bailed on me, probably for a similar reason." His right hand slid from your butt to your pelvis, and in one smooth motion pulled your underwear to the side and ran two long slender fingers through your folds, having to do little work himself as you continued to move your hips, now focused on the sensation that the presence of his fingers gave. He stops you though, moving his hands to your hips to stop your motions. "Lift up." You do as told, fully up on your knees, sternum at his nose, waiting for his next action. You let a shocked gasp fall from your lips when you feel two long, slender fingers ease into you slowly, sliding in effortlessly from how impossibly wet you were. He pulls them out fully and lifts them to his line of sight, and you watch as he separates the two appendages to show strings of arousal connecting them. "I make you this wet? Either that or you just really enjoy sucking dick." He licks the juices from his fingers and then slides them back into you, fucking into you slowly, waiting for your answer.

   "Both. But only if it's your dick." You wanted to taste yourself on his lips, so you littered them with kisses. Kissing him like he was your only source of oxygen, just so you could taste yourself from his lips. You only stop when a calloused thumb is pressed onto you clit.

   "Good answer." He keeps his fingers going, the "come hither" motion being made reaching spots that you could only dream of reaching with your own. Esteban could feel, and hear, that you were getting wetter by the second, the squelching noises being accompanied by the sticky slickness of your overflowing juices with each thrust of his fingers. The back of the limo had a pleasantly lewd scent of sex that swirled so wonderfully with the combined notes of woodsy vanilla from your perfume and his cologne. He was getting irritatingly hard again and this time the only feeling that could even remotely help is that of your soft warm walls wrapped around him.

   "I fucking love your fingers, Daddy." You moan, moving your hips meeting the thrusts of his fingers and trying to increase the pressure on your clit yourself. But Esteban had other plans, and as you guys ventured closer to the venue, he removed his fingers and hastily grabbed his dick, rubbed the tip along your slit and stuck just that in before placing his hands on your hips to push you down onto it himself.

   "Sounds like you like my dick more, pêches." This was in response to the guttural "Oh my gosh" you let out after having no choice but to bottom out on his dick.

   "You're so fucking deep, I don't-" You move one of your hands from your boyfriend's shoulder to the rear window if the limo, not having to do any work yourself as Esteban guides you down onto his cock and then thrusts you back up with his hips. You were already overwhelmed with how he felt inside of you, stretching you, dragging in and out, hitting your cervix with each thrust that it took you a moment to register the riiippp from the fabric of your dress and the feeling of the damp air on your now exposed boobs. "What the fuck?"

   "Ne pleurnichez pas. I'll buy you a new one." He was hypnotized by the sight of your bouncing tits in his face, your moans a background sound that immerses him further. That is until an abrupt stop of the limo causes him to unintentionally thrust deeper into you, making you scream and let out expletives as Esteban examines the situation. He quickly identified the problem: the partition was only rolled up halfway at that point, so from what he could guess, the driver was so distracted from watching your ass bounce on his cock that he almost hit the person in front of him. "Les yeux sur la putain de route." He instructed quick and angrily before motioning for him to roll up the partition again. "Are you okay?"

   For Esteban, there were very few, if any, views of you that didn't turn him on immensely, and the one he had at the moment was no different. Your breasts in his face, your exhausted, pleasure filled face tilted downward, hair falling forward with your tilted head, just trying to catch your breath and recover from the unexpected feeling you just experienced. "Mhmm. Just a shock."

   "Okay." He continues again slower, using the faces you were making as a gauge for when he could go back to the pace he was at. Somehow everything was timed perfectly, because by the time he reached his previous pace, or what seemed to be faster because now you were starting to chase your own orgasm, the limo had reached the outskirts of the event, still a good amount of people waiting to get a glimpse of whatever celebrity they are able to. "Regarde, pêches. Completely oblivious to you being fucked out of your mind in the back of this limo. Want to give them a show, huh? Want to show them how much of a needy little cock-hungry girl you are?" His threats were empty, knowing that the driver was going to take the next side street to take you guys back home, but he wanted to hear you beg.

   "Nooo…I wanna go home." You could only think about how good Esteban's dick made you feel, and how much better it would be in the comforts of your own home. More room available. Less inhibition. Free to get off however you pleased.

   "Don't worry, Daddy will get you home." You nod at him, but continue to nod as your brain shuts out everything except the feeling of Esteban's cock reaching the deepest parts of your pussy and your own fingers strategically rubbing your clit. You just wanted to cum. Well, more like needed to cum, as you've been so unbearably horny since you saw Esteban dressed in his tux before you two even left the house. "But…" He uses one large hand to stop your little fingers from working your clit while he reversed his hips to fully retract himself from you, hard wer dick, covered in your juices, bobbing close to his stomach. "You have to wait to cum. Until we get home. Then I'll make you cum as many times as you want." He guides you off of his lap, pulls his own pants and underwear back up, and then removes his jacket to give to you, which you take after attempting to cover your chest with the ripped fabric of your silky red dress.

   "You're an asshole, you know that." You mope in your seat as the driver continues back to your place, the surroundings becoming familiar again as you watch out the window.

   "Say what you want, you'll pay when we get home." He reaches for your hand and gives it a brief kiss, his aura sweet, but his threatening promise still looking over you. You continue to avoid eye contact, but he knew that it was all a facade. You just enjoyed acting like a little brat when you guys fuck because you knew it irritated him in a way that made him want to fuck you harder just to shut you up. So, it was even less of a surprise when your other hand reached around to aid in ripping his button up open, buttons flying everywhere.

   "I just had to make it fair. I couldn't be the only one with ripped clothing." You turned to look out the window again, your boyfriend's previous promise echoing in your head. As you neared home you made little annoying complaints here and there, because one thing about Esteban is that he always kept his promises.

[sashi-ya]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

⭒ pairing: kuchiki byakuya x f! reader. R 18+ ⭒ requested by Anonymous [Bya-kun Anon 🌸] 💖 ⭒ inspired on the song: 𝄞 I Wanna Be Yours by Artic Monkeys 𝄞 ⭒ tw: MDNI. Byakun is finally out of the pond, awake and needy than ever. passionate, love making. love love love. not that lustful. ⭒ masterlist a song + a character event

“He is awake, (Name)!” Rukia chimed, desperately and abruptly breaking the state of full concentration you were in.

You open your eyes, looking at her with a shine you were lacking since that day… the day you almost lost him.

“BYAKUYA-SAMA? HE IS UP?” you ask, jolting from the cold tatami and running outside. You usually adore to spend time with Rukia, but you couldn’t think of anything else but to hug him so tightly.

As you run through the corridors of squad 0, you pass right through the door of where he is.

“(Name)…” he utters, peaking outside the room.

Your feet carve marks into the ground to stop and turn around. His hair, still wet. Just the white kimono covering a healthy body. And his severe, yet so kind eyes looking at you, waiting for your brain to process that’s really him.

Your lips separate as your jaw relaxes. Your eyes soften. The man you spend looking at while floating on what it looked like an eternal bath, is finally standing on both feet in front of you.

“How many times I have to tell you, you shouldn’t run through the halls?” he scolds you, because that’s his love language.

“Byakuya-sama!!!!” you run to him, feeling the strength of his reiatsu. Stronger than you ever felt, as if it was new… his soul felt like a new one, though, that what made him unique still lingered in your heart.

He receives you in his arms, as you pounce into him. Your legs surround his waist, your arms his neck. He presses you against his body hard enough to break your bones.

You cough a little. How comes he is that strong? He isn’t used to his new him?

“Sorry, I feel… uh… weird. My arms, they feel strong- I haven’t yet-“ he tries to excuse himself, ripping a gasp from your throat; Byakuya never apologizes, not to you, nor anyone else under him.

“No… crush my bones if you must, Kuchiki Taicho. I don’t care… you… you are alright…” you whisper, grabbing his face in between your hands with utmost care.

Your nose touches his, as he walks back inside that room. Your lips beg to join the other. Your souls, pleading to bond once more.

“I won’t crush your bones, don’t be silly. And don’t be so loud, ok? I am ok, how are you?” he asks, resting his forehead on yours, so assure you are absolutely healthy.

You nod, acknowledging that, even if your relationship wasn’t a secret… there were still some things the rest didn’t know. After all, both were just starting to love each other when the Quincy attacked.

“I’m so happy you are alive, Taicho” you whisper, with tears coming to your eyes. You saw him die, so his arms around your body still feel unreal.

Your fingertips move his wet hair off his face. You might be the only person allowed to do so. “Look at you, so beautiful as ever…” you purr.

Byakuya’s expression also softens, looking at you with eyes of profound love and also a lot of regrets.

“I am sorry, love. I swear I won’t ever again fail you, nor Rukia, nor Renji, nor the Sei-“ he tries to excuse for putting his life in danger to protect you all. But you won’t let him say such nonsense. Byakuya shouldn’t feel guilty, Byakuya should feel proud.

“Byakuya…” you let yourself call him by his first name with no honorifics this time. “You made us all the proudest we could ever be. Thank you for protecting us all, thank you for putting yourself there to fight them… you, Byakuya, you are the definition of a true soldier. I know you for the very first time asked for help, and you have no idea how proud I am of you…”

He looks at you, with the rain in his eyes and a storm inside his core. “You…” he barely murmurs before crashing his lips against yours with the force of a thousand souls in one.

Byakuya’s lips feel so soft as always. His arms feel as warm as always. But his soul, feels bigger than ever.

And so many kisses both share, that you wish you could tell him how his you wanna be. How much you love him, even if he probably already knows… However, the one who you thought would never be yours, this time is the one asking you for it the most…

As you two slide down, him falling on his knees with you straddling your hips on his lap, the kisses never stop and his tears neither they do.

Byakuya lifts you a little bit up just to make you comfortable over him, and for some minutes he forgot his own surname. He wasn’t Kuchiki Byakuya, the head of the Kuchiki clan. He wasn’t the captain of the sixth squad of the Gotei 13… he was, simply, a lover whose feelings needed to be shared.

“I wanna be yours…” he whines, with lips grazing yours and a painful pleading stare. “Yes, Byakuya. And I will never let you go, my love…” you murmur, kissing him back with so much love you even feel like it wasn’t possible to feel for a person.

His hand slides your kimono up, finding your core, so unaware of how wet you are. Desperately, he searches for concealing any little gap in between your bodies. Is not physical desire what moves him now, it is just and purely the lust of his heart for yours.

You let his white kimono slide through his shoulders, exposing his chest and back. Hands that can’t stop feeling every little indentation of such sacred flesh.

A dichotomy in between the delicacy and the dominancy of his sex, searching to bury into you, to feel ablaze by the walls of your femininity. The slender, soft fingers of his, traveling up and down the small of your back. The scent of his flesh, of clean flowery perfume, of musk masculine perfection.

“I wanna… no, I need to make love to you” he grunts, asking for the final permission to slide himself deep in.

“Please, I wanna be yours, make me yours. Make love to me…” you whine, moving so that he is able to finally penetrate you.

You throw your head back whenever feeling the tip stretching your entrance, and even if so many times your bodies have shared the heat of passion… today, things feel different. Like a reborn star, stronger, harder. No more sex, this time making love.

You bounce on him, both moaning into each other’s mouths. Your hands playing with his wet tufts of hair over his back, his pressing you harder against himself by your waist. How deep he wanna go? as deep as the love he has for you.

“I will forever protect… ngh… you. I’m yours. I’m so yours. I am all of the things that are yours, I am yours” he repeats, panting, as you can sense his shaft twitching inside you.

“Then, that means the whole world is mine… my love” you whisper, kissing the tears on his cheeks… because he is to you, exactly that… your whole world.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...

“Kuchiki Byakuya, your food is ready! I baked them all with my spi…ri…tual… Well, the pond seemed to be enough apparently! However, please eat once you two are finished!”

[thebiggerbear]

Alec McDowell x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: You're looking for a way to set yourself up and blend in after breaking out of Manticore. Having heard the rumors, you seek out Max for help. In doing so, you come across someone you had never thought you'd see again.

Pairing: Alec McDowell x Female!Reader; Alec McDowell x Female!Transgenic Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I have been in love with the world of Dark Angel and Alec ever since the show aired. To me, it's completely fascinating, and I really wish it had continued. (I was a big Malec fan back then btw; Lomax just wasn't my thing) There's so much to explore, especially with Max herself and how the transgenic community was going to move forward now that the public was aware of them. And of course, Joshua, OC, and Alec. Great stuff. Originally, I wasn't sure what scenario would best suit Alec based on this prompt line but I knew it would definitely be something that would apply to him. As far as It's A Wonderful Life, I was listening to the Christmas radio show they aired back in the 40's as I was outlining this one and the idea sort of came to life on its own. Hope this one's alright.

This is meant to take place mid-s2 and I did use events from the Berrisford Agenda episode (2x11) as inspiration for the beginning. 😉

Thanks to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Warnings: implied violence; implied murder; mention of fatal injury; implied sex

Word Count: 8419

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Alec Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version | Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Jason version | Tom version | CJ version | Rachel version | Anael version | SDV Leah version

You made your way into the bike messenger shop, glancing around despite the busy, distracting din. Rumor had it that a transgenic named Max had a sweet hookup here, something a fellow transgenic like yourself could use, being on the run and all. You could get a job, make money, and more importantly: blend in; not to mention it would teach you the layout of the city, the ins and outs, and provide you with legal documentation to let you past checkpoints in case Manticore ever came looking. 

So far, you hadn’t spotted the dark brunette you had been told about, and you didn’t sense any of your kind here. While a few people either walked past you, giving you a once-over as they did or stood there staring, all of them appeared to be human. Everyone else was milling to and fro, and you wondered if perhaps you’d been given wrong information. It had happened before so you were used to it, but this one you had really been hoping would turn out to be true. You could use a lucky break.

A man was barking out orders to a group of messengers before they dispersed, and his eye landed on you once they did. “You need something, Missy-Miss?”

You assumed the crankpot was the boss so you carefully approached him. “Uh, yeah, I was looking for—”

You were interrupted by yells coming from your far left. Your head snapped in the direction of the sounds and your eyes widened at what you saw.

There was the transgenic X5-494 backed up against the lockers, holding his hands out in a ‘whoa’ manner and giving the women in front of him his most charming grin; by the looks of their faces, it wasn’t working. “Ladies, ladies. No need to fight.”

“You didn’t tell me you were already seeing Lena when you asked me out!” One woman seethed.

“He asked you out?” Another woman, who you assumed was Lena, demanded. “I bet it happened right after we slept together, didn’t it?”

“He slept with you?” A third woman blanched.

“Tell me you haven't been making the rounds through the entire company,” another woman scoffed in disgust.

You shook your head, watching the show. Typical 494. Even out here he was still getting himself into trouble. By the sounds of it, he more than deserved the wrath of the women he was currently faced with, but you were still taken aback by his sudden appearance. Just when you thought you’d never see him again…

Before you knew it, the older man you had been talking to made his way over. “Alright, break it up! Break it up!” He forced his way next to 494 and glared at the ladies. “Shouldn’t you be working? You want your paychecks? Packages need to be delivered on time. Get going.”

The women grumbled and began to disperse, glaring in both men’s direction. “You just wait until later, Alec! This isn’t over!” 494 gave them all a sheepish smile while the other man scowled. 

“Okay, okay! You’ve got deliveries to make. Packages don’t deliver themselves so let’s go, keep it moving!” 

By the time they had all left, 494’s smile dropped and he seemed to deflate, gratefully clapping the man’s shoulder. “Thanks. I think they were about to eat me alive,” he laughed.

“Not on my watch,” the other man promised. “How’re you feeling, champ? You okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m good. Just, you know…” He gestured to where the women had disappeared and bugged his eyes before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“You should’ve let them take a swing at him,” a brunette woman suddenly threw at them as she approached her locker, which was near the two men. “It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”

494 let out a huff. “Thanks, Max,” he mumbled.

That name caught your attention—so this was Max. It had surprised you to see 494 here of all places, but it made sense considering what X5-452 had set up here.

“Don’t be like that, Missy-Miss,” the older man warned the woman. “There’s no reason to have that kind of attitude.”

Max shook her head and discreetly rolled her eyes, zipping up her backpack. “So what have you got for me today, Normal?”

Normal held out two packages for her to take. “They need these by noon, not one second later.”

Max snatched the packages and nodded. 494 stepped closer to her. “I’ll come with you,” he insisted, still seeing some of the dirty looks he was receiving from girls coming to and fro. 

She made a face at him which clearly said that wasn’t going to happen, and before she could voice that, Normal cleared his throat. “Not a bad idea. You could show him the ropes on that side of town and keep him from the estrogen mob looking to burn him at the stake. He’s got that raw animal charisma working and it’s causing trouble.” This time you made your own face of disgust. And this guy’s name was Normal? Far from it.

“Whatever,” Max snapped and shoved a package into 494’s chest, hard. She turned and was about to leave when you stepped forward.

“Max?” You called.

Her eyes snapped towards you as did 494’s and Normal’s. “Yeah?” She asked, seeming unsure. 

You knew she was sensing who you really were just like you could sense her and 494 across the way, even if you hadn’t just been watching them. You ignored 494’s eyes widening at the sight of you and the sudden tension in his body, making your way closer. “I was wondering if we could have a word.”

Max’s brows furrowed and Normal glanced between you, holding up a finger. “No visitors at work, Miss. You know the rule: packages need to be there by noon. Make it quick.” He turned and walked away, completely uninterested in whatever conversation you two were about to have.

Max stepped over to you, studying you intently. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. What do you want?”

494 was standing right next to her, his eyes never leaving you. The surprise was still evident in his expression along with something else you couldn’t quite put a name to.

You glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to you, before turning and lifting your ponytail from your neck, letting her see the barcode tattoo you had. After a moment, you spun on your heel to find her appearing a little more receptive to what you had to say. “So, you got somewhere we can talk?”

She nodded and glanced over at 494 before inclining her head in a direction she expected you to follow her in. You obliged, your eyes briefly flickering to 494’s, before he followed both of you.

Once you were outside in a semi-private spot, Max turned to you, her arms crossed. “So, who are you really?”

“X5-498,” you answered. 

Max glanced over at 494 before addressing you once again. “How long have you been on the run?”

“Since you destroyed the base and helped 494 escape.” You nodded in his direction. Yeah, maybe you were still a little bitter about that. 494 looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t help him do anything,” Max insisted, her nose scrunching up in what appeared to be repulsion at the very idea. 

494 ignored her and trained his gaze on you. “I thought you were dead.”

You smirked over at him and crossed your arms. “Sorry to disappoint.” You noticed his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow at the jab.

“You two know each other?” Max was looking between you but neither of you looked away from the other. 

“She was my breeding partner,” 494 informed her. 

Max’s eyes widened and turned on you. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He wouldn’t have been my first choice, either.”

He snorted and the amused smirk you were more than familiar with began to appear on his face, yet he didn’t say a word. 

“Oh-kay. That’s not super weird or anything.” She turned to 494. “You had more than one breeding partner? Were you Manticore’s stud horse or something?” She looked grossed out at the thought.

494’s eyes briefly flickered over to her. “498 and I were paired off long before you got there.”

“But then, if you were already paired off, why were you paired off with me, too?” Your gaze snapped to Max who looked genuinely confused for a moment before realization hit her. “Oh, right. It was all part of your big plan to get me to trust you so I could accidentally kill Logan. Got it.”

494 shrugged unapologetically. “Pretty much.” He turned back to you. “Renfro gave me the mission and told me if I didn’t succeed, then that’d be it for me. I was already on thin ice with them. So, she assigned me to you, Max, and I did what I had to do.”

“And he left me to die,” you supplied, gracing her with your smirk. 

His jaw dropped before he closed his mouth and pressed his lips into a thin line. “I didn’t leave you there to die,” he protested. 

“Leaving me there to burn to death constitutes as leaving me to die,” you countered. He glared at you but you ignored it. You noticed Max’s eyes constantly moving between the two of you and you decided you’d get to the point of why you were here. “452, I’m here because word on the street is that you have a way of helping fellow transgenics like yourself.” You motioned towards 494. “I was hoping you might be able to help me as well.”

She looked taken aback. “I don’t have anything set up like that. As a matter of fact, Alec here only got the job because of Normal’s weird worship of him.” 494 gave her a smug smile which made her roll her eyes. “But as far as other transgenics go, I don’t really have anything in place to help like you’re thinking. Sorry.”

You nodded, figuring as much. You thought it had been unlikely but you had hoped anyway. All you could do now was remain on the run until you could find a place where you could seamlessly blend in. “Thank you for your time.”

“Just hold up a sec,” 494 entreated you, but you ignored him.

You turned to leave when Max’s voice stopped you. “Wait.” You glanced back and found her watching you, compassion twinkling in her eyes. “Maybe there’s something we can do.” She quickly glanced at 494 who was giving her a look. Max rolled her eyes at him but lifted her chin when addressing you. “I wouldn’t put you with this one because it sounds like you’ve been punished enough already.”

494 shot her a glare to which she only smirked. You couldn’t help but smile yourself; perhaps you would like this 452 after all. 

“But I think I have an idea of where you can stay. It’s temporary and you’d have a roommate, but we can see about getting you a job and getting you set up properly. Logan can help, too, with papers. If you’re serious and you plan to stay, that is.”

494 watched you intently. You thought it over for a moment. This proposal was better than anything you had going for you right now. Hell, you would have even stuck yourself with 494 again if it meant you’d have a place to sleep and something to eat, safe from Manticore for a while. You gave Max a nod. “Thank you.” To your surprise, 494 seemed to relax a bit at your response.

She smiled and turned, indicating you should follow. “You’ll be with Joshua for the time being. He’s pretty easy to get along with,” she assured you, her tone softening a bit. You could tell she was fond of the guy she was mentioning.

“Joshua?” You questioned, looking from her to 494.

494 stayed in step with you as you all made your way out onto the street. He shot you a smile as Max retrieved her bike. “You like dogs?”

Joshua did indeed turn out to be a decent roommate. He was kind and thoughtful and actually a little funny. Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to find a dogman as your new temporary roommate, but once you found out about his history, you found yourself feeling compassion for his situation. You were glad he had managed to escape the destruction of the base that night. 

Max kept her word and set you up with a job as a bike messenger at Jam Pony (apparently a couple of the girls 494 had been involved with decided to up and quit for some strange reason), which gave you access to all of the legal documentation you’d need to get past certain checkpoints in the city. She’d introduced you to her friends Original Cyndi and Sketchy, who would also turn out to be your coworkers. Normal viewed you as another hooligan he was forced to pay for standing around and not doing your job just like the rest, though despite his warped assertions, you actually did get your work done. You ended up going on runs with 494 and Max to get to know the ins and outs of the job. Outside of work, you kept your distance unless your help was needed. Max and OC had invited you to Crash a couple of times, but you bowed out, especially when Sketch seemed a little too invested in your joining them. You also met Logan and Asha, neither of whom you cared for very much; still, they were important to your fellow transgenics and Logan was helping you, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. All in all, you were settling into life in Seattle and beginning to blend in. And you avoided 494 like the Plague despite his couple of attempts to approach you and strike up a conversation, so everything was going pretty swell. 

You had even found a new place you liked to escape to every now and then. You knew the Space Needle was also Max’s favorite spot—she had told you as much—but after a long day, you liked to get to the highest point and look out over the city you now were beginning to call home. 

It was one such peaceful night when 494 found you.

“Thought I’d find you here.” He carefully lowered himself down next to you.

You didn’t respond and instead focused on the feel of the cool breeze gently blowing through your hair.

“I’m glad you made it out,” he admitted.

You shot him a look before returning your attention to the city. 

“I am.” He rested his forearms on his knees and looked out towards the city skyline. “I know what we had wasn’t of our making, but it wasn’t all horrible, was it?”

You let his question hang in the air. No, it hadn’t been all horrible, but it was still a messed up situation you both had been thrust into. Based on what you’d learned about his sessions with Max, copulation hadn’t needed to happen due to the background plan. You and 494 weren’t so lucky after a while, just like every other pair of breeding partners in the facility. By the time Max was recaptured and brought to the base, Renfro and company were already starting to side-eye the two of you and wanted to know how you hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. Almost every other pairing had been successful or reassigned if they weren’t; you were arousing too much suspicion by your constant failure to report an impregnation despite your successful copulations. The truth was that you and 494 did what you could to prevent it from happening. You had no desire to add to the ranks of Manticore transgenics and neither did he, something you both had been on the same page about since the first night you’d been thrown into a cell together.

You hadn’t fooled yourselves. This wasn’t about love or any attraction you had for one another, nor was it even a fun roll in the sheets; you both would not have chosen each other if you’d had a say in any of it. This was all about science and genetics, and it was purely clinical. That didn’t mean that there weren’t a few moments here and there that you snatched for yourselves: a laugh here, a tender moment there, a camaraderie forged between you in flipping off the organization that had created you and controlled you since your first breaths. So no, it wasn’t all horrible.

Which is why you didn’t protest or move away when you felt him subtly shift a little closer to you. You nearly smiled at the action; 494 had always sought a connection between you, something that superseded the physical. You couldn’t count the amount of times after your sessions that you had both held onto each other: you still remembered how he would wrap his arms around you and pull you close, letting out a content sigh as you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he liked. And he would make sure every inch of him was still touching you on the uncomfortable cot suspended from the wall, before the guards were due to come back and retrieve him. How he would chatter away about different subjects, doing his best to engage you.

“I went back for you,” he murmured.

Surprise ran through you as you turned wide eyes on him. 

“Once they revealed the base’s location and I was able to get free, I went back for you.” He stared at you, swallowing compulsively. “But by the time I got there, it was too late. I thought you were gone.”

You could see the truth of what he was saying in his green eyes, but you refused to give in that easily. You huffed out a snort and turned back to the view. “More like you were hoping.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him shaking his head. “I never wanted you gone.”

You ignored him and continued your ritual of observing the city, allowing silence to fall between you. Only when he slowly took your hand into his did you turn a glare on him and finally speak:  “I hate you, you realize that, right?”

“You have a weird way of showing that.” He nodded his head towards your intertwined fingers. 

You rolled your eyes but you didn’t pull away. “Don’t you have a harem to get back to? Or what’s her name…Asha? Now that you’re free to choose who you want to copulate with. You didn’t seem to have any issue finding willing partners before I showed up.”

This time, he was the one who snorted. “Just passing time.”

You finally did pull away, grimacing. “Ew.”

He let out a nervous-sounding laugh. “I just meant it’s all been casual. Nothing serious.”

You side-eyed him. “Good luck with that.” You got to your feet and were about to leave when he grabbed your hand to stop you, forcing you to look down at him.

“Y/N,” he murmured, using the name Max had picked out for you. It wasn’t your favorite, but you needed something to go on the paperwork for Jam Pony and the papers Logan was acquiring for you, so you figured it would do. Perhaps you’d even grow into it and it could be a decent identity for you.

“494?”

He shot you a glare. “Alec.”

Right. Max had named him, too. That was something he’d mentioned on one of the runs you, he, and Max had gone on. You had smirked at Max’s explanation of that choice while 494 had rolled his eyes.

“Okay then. Alec?” It felt weird to call him that yet at the same time…it felt like a good fit.

His thumb tenderly stroked against your skin and he watched you. “Just wanted to see how it sounded. Using our names instead.”

You nodded. You could understand that. All of this was new and…fragile in a way. Any moment you could be found, you could either be killed or worse — brought back to another base. However, from what you’d heard, the former was more likely to happen these days. Max had encouraged you to start thinking about what you wanted out of life, and so far, freedom was certainly at the top of your list. You might be free right now, but you weren’t really free, not with your captors still out there who viewed you as their property, to apprehend or destroy at will. You had a feeling that Alec knew that just as well as you did, no matter the optimistic picture Max tried to paint for Joshua or any other transgenics she might come across.

He tugged on your hand to urge you to sit back down next to him. You resisted for a moment but then decided to oblige. What did a few minutes more matter in the scheme of things? He snuck an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. Had it been anyone else, that arm would have been ripped from its socket by now. 

Alec gave you a small smile and leaned down to press a kiss to your hair, flooding you with memories of every time he’d done just that. Other memories made appearances, too: his sharing with you about his side hustle of trading things with guards for certain comforts, something he actually used on your behalf a few times; his laugh and kiss to your head when both of you had gotten a little too much into one copulating session, almost making the two of you forget to take your usual precautions; his promise of getting you both out of there together if you could hold out just a little longer; his expression when he told you that he thought Renfro had a mission for him that would keep him out of your barracks for the next few nights but that he’d do his best to see it through quickly and return; the last time you’d seen him when he’d exchanged a look with you across the yard before you and your unit were led away for more drills and testing, you thinking back to the worry you’d seen in his expression and since you didn’t know the cause, it created your own set of worries — 494 never let it show if he was ever worried or scared. 

You weren’t sure how to feel about any of this. Yes, you and Alec had history but it had been forced upon you. Although you had forged some sort of connection during it all, it didn't mean that either of you were looking to continue that or see where it went on the outside—especially now that you were able to choose for yourselves. Still, that connection hadn’t simply ceased to exist just because you wished it would… Especially not when he was trying his damndest to restore some piece of it, right here and right now.

He lowered his head to meet your eyes and you could feel something familiar inside your chest squeezing a little bit. You told yourself that it had to be heartburn from the chicken stew you’d eaten for dinner earlier, and not anything to do with him at all. “I’ve missed this,” he quietly admitted. “Just talking and being together. Didn’t you?”

You gave him a look of disbelief mixed with amusement. “I don’t really think we did all that much talking as I remember it.”

That cocky smirk of his was back. “True.” 

You rolled your eyes and he laughed. You enjoyed the familiar sound that caused more memories to wash over you. You would never admit it but the bond you’d shared had actually been the only good thing to sustain you when you were running after the explosion. You’d hoped that wherever he was, he had gotten away and was safe. You knew he hadn’t been in his barracks; you’d checked amidst the chaos. 

Thinking back to that night, you rested your head back against his shoulder and stared out into the night. His lips tipped up in a small smile and he laid his head up against yours, following your gaze. You both stayed like that for the next hour until he murmured to you, “Come back with me?”

You turned to frown up at him. Was he for real? “Really?”

“No, not that, I just meant…” He ran his free hand over his hair. “I didn’t think I’d see you again and now you’re here. I didn’t really know how to ask you before without it sounding like that. But I want to show you my place.” He gave you a bit of a proud smile.

You considered it. It would be interesting to see what kind of setup he had going for himself. That had been something you had talked about back in your bunk at the base as he held you to him, his hands roaming your bare back. “You sure Alec’s groupies won’t mind?”

Alec smirked and shook his head. “I don’t have any roommates or regular visitors if that’s what you’re asking.”

You smirked right back and leaned in, making his eyes drop to your lips. “I wasn’t,” you whispered before dropping his hand and getting to your feet. 

He got up as well, grinning over at you, that familiar fire lighting those sharp green eyes. “Just think: no guards to bribe, no need to keep it down, no time limit, no metal cot we both have to try to fit on…”

You snorted. “So you really are asking me to go back with you for that reason.”

“No, I really do want to show you the sweet setup I have.” His smile then turned wicked. “But if that were to happen, I wouldn’t exactly be against it.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, looking away from him. You did your best to hide your own smile when he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his lips near your ear.

“So what do you say? Let me show you my apartment. I got a couch, a bed, a tub…”  

“Ooh, a tub?” You pretended to be impressed though you weren’t pretending too much. If a tub was considered a luxury before the world went to hell, then it was an even rarer commodity now. 

“Yep,” he huskily whispered as he brushed a kiss to your ear lobe. “All the hot water and soap you could want.” He trailed his lips down your neck, making your eyes shut halfway. “And I’ve got glasses, plates, a coffee table… I even have a stereo.”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip when he found that spot on your neck that he knew you loved. “A stereo?”

“For music,” he explained, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “And I even managed to score some whiskey from years back, pre-pulse. You’ll love it,” he promised before nuzzling your cheek. “Come home with me.”   

You stared out over the horizon, unsure if you should give in to what he was tempting you with. Before, at Manticore, the sex had been clinical and while there was a connection between you, given the circumstances, it made sense to stick together like glue. But now… “I don’t know if I should. We’re out now and everything’s changed.”

He spun you in his arms, his brows furrowed as he cupped your face with his hands. “Not for me. I meant what I said to you in there, we were gonna get out together, find some place to blend in, and make it work.”

“But we didn’t get out together,” you whispered, gently removing his hands from you before stepping around him towards the door. 

He grabbed your hand. “Y/N.” You glanced back at his earnest expression. “I did come back for you. When everything exploded and I didn’t hear or see any trace of you, I thought—”

“I know. I went to look for you, too, once I managed to get out of my barracks.” His eyes widened slightly in surprise. “That guard, Hayes, he let me out. He said something about a deal you had in place with him if things went wrong while you were away on your mission.” You dropped your gaze. “It must’ve really cost you, so… Thanks for that.” You squeezed his hand before letting it go and making your way inside the abandoned building.   

You didn’t look back; there was no point. When you thought back to that night, you remembered Hayes sneering at you as he opened your cell door, spitting something about telling 494 that he owed him something better than cigars and the usual contraband this time. You didn’t bother thanking the man who treated you and every other transgenic on the base as nothing more than freak science experiments that were less than human, and you booked it towards the male barracks, fighting your way through when you needed to. You would never forget the relief you felt finding the specific bunk you were looking for empty, that was then followed by the feeling of betrayal, which quickly shifted into acceptance. You hoped he was alive out there somewhere, whether he had made it out before you got there or he had already been out in the world on his mission. You had chalked up your time together as a weird yet not so bad interaction and kept running. You’d even seen Hayes’ dead body on your way out, his throat torn apart, almost as if that too was closing the book on this messed up chapter of your life.

And that’s what you’d done: closed that chapter of your life and attempted to move on, to do what you could to figure out your own life. You never expected to see 494 again, let alone find him living his life, a harem of women around him. It had stuck a finger into that particular wound for a moment before the blanket acceptance was back in place. Your relationship was exactly as you’d thought it had been for both of you: something that had been forced upon you by your creators and you both had tried to make something good out of it (just not the child Manticore had wanted). And now, it was over. You both were on the outside and it was time for you both to go your separate ways, figuratively if not literally. He’d done right by you in that last moment and you’d escaped, gotten free, and lived. What more could you ask for?

You were just about to scale down to the next level when his hand landed on your shoulder, making you look back at him.

“Y/N, come back with me to my place. I want to show you something.”

You gave him a look. “494—”

“Alec,” he corrected. “I’m not talking about sex, though if you wanted that at some point, like I said, I’m more than willing.” He lifted his hand to cup your cheek and he stared into your eyes, willing you to agree. “I really want to show you something.” 

His thumb tenderly ran along your bottom lip in a familiar gesture that had always preceded a kiss before he left you for the night. A part of you hoped he would repeat the action but when he didn’t, you were more relieved than anything. Your body yearned for his—the familiarity, the comfort—but you still didn’t think you should fall back into old habits—it could only end badly, whether he ended up getting bored or one of you (or both) were found by your enemies. You felt incredibly torn. Truthfully, you weren’t quite sure what you wanted when it came to him. 

“Please,” he added. “Come over.”

He looked so determined, so earnest, that you found yourself slowly nodding in agreement. 

His handsome face lit up with a bright smile. “I promise, you’re really gonna like it.” He urged you to follow him, scaling to the next level down with you right behind him. You hoped he was right, and you also hoped you would finally get some sort of answer for yourself on whether to explore this new great unknown with him with the former Emerald City as the backdrop in contrast to your cramped cell or to close the book on him for good.

You had to admit, Alec had a nice apartment. It was bigger than you’d imagined and he had told you the truth: he had glasses, plates, a coffee table, a couch, a bed, a tub, the so-called stereo (which he turned on for a minute to show you how it worked), and the whiskey he’d promised. As you drank from your glass, marveling at the taste, you glanced around, nodding.

“Nice,” you complimented.

“Thanks.” He took your hand and led you to a corner of the living room where a box sat tall on some sort of stand. He released you to go over and stand next to it, turning to beam over at you. “What do you think?”

Your eyes roved over the box with a glass front, confused. “It’s…great?”

He gave you a look as if you should know what it was before smiling wide again. “It’s a TV,” he crowed. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “TV?”

“Yeah, you know, to watch movies and TV shows, that kind of thing.” 

You peered at it, wondering just how it worked. You’d heard of movies of course, but you’d never seen one. Did the images just appear on the glass when you turned it on? Was there something that needed to be selected or perhaps inserted somewhere?

He proudly laid a hand on top of it. “I managed to get ahold of it after one of my customers I’ve been selling synthetics to heard about some old lady dying nearby who had one. I headed right over to her place and got this beauty.” He smiled down at it. 

“You’ve been selling synthetics?” Of course he was still hustling, even out here. In Manticore, it had been a necessity; out here, if it helped him get nice digs like this and set him up, you had to give him credit for keeping it going and getting creative.

“Among other things. Oh, and look.” He gestured down to another smaller box sitting in front of it. “I was also able to get a VCR. It took me a few months to get a lead on one of these, but I got it.” He chuckled and turned a wide smile on you. 

You returned the smile, still unsure of what a VCR was.

“And the best part,” He took your glass from you and placed it on top of the TV before he grabbed something from behind it and shoved it into your hands. You looked down at the rectangular object and spied a familiar image you had only seen once before, when you were on the run from Manticore the first time. Your eyes widened; something you had told Alec about one night after copulating a few times and he was falling asleep, him tiredly rubbing your shoulder as you laid your head on his chest, one of the nights he’d bought more time for you both… The sight made the corners of your eyes sting, yet you forced yourself to keep the tears at bay. He had heard you that night even while nodding off and he’d— he’d managed to get his hands on it. “It’s that movie you told me about,” he began. “It’s—”

“--A Wonderful Life,” you finished in an awed whisper. You reverently traced the picture you’d seen a hundred times before Manticore caught you. You ignored the rips and stains surrounding the rim of the image and focused on the man who’d caught your interest in the first place. He looked happy, staring down at his wife, the two of them surrounded by their children, one hoisted up behind him and holding onto him for dear life. They all looked happy, which was something you’d never had or known. You’d never had a father, never knew your mother, and you’d never had a family, not like the one portrayed in the picture. Sure, you had dozens of brothers and sisters, but you weren’t a family. Manticore would punish you if any of you had even uttered the word. You were soldiers in training and that was it.

Still, this image piqued your interest and many nights, you found that you couldn’t stop staring at it. It was in an old theater, a place you’d managed to find while running the first time—the same place you took shelter in and eventually turned it into your own setup. There were other people throughout the theater who’d had the same idea, but they pretty much left you alone once you’d fought off the biggest guy in the group who had stupidly tried to take your food from you. Once you’d seen that poster, it created a yearning in you for something you had never known, something you never imagined wanting. You didn’t need parents and you didn’t need siblings, but you did crave family… Something that became more and more apparent the more you studied the image, imagining what that life would be like. 

Which is why it was so cruel when Manticore recaptured you and immediately thrust you into its breeding program. Not only had they taken your life from you since conception, viewed you as their property that they were determined to see some sort of return of their investment on—now they wanted to take whatever life you could create from you and control it, too. You weren’t going to let that happen. As a matter of fact, you’d fought 494 off the first night they sent him into your cell. It had taken him by surprise because he’d thought you both were on the same page: you had orders. But he’d quickly learned that you’d rather die than follow those particular ones. He’d maintained his distance until a guard came to retrieve him, and as he’d glanced back at you one last time as he stepped across the threshold, you knew then that you were marked for death. A soldier refusing to obey and follow orders was no good to the organization and more importantly, of no use. Thus, it took you by surprise the next day when 494 confirmed the success of your copulation the previous night to your superiors which led to him being brought back to your cell later that night to continue.

From there, even though it took a little bit, you’d both talked and began getting to know one another. You’d learned that he didn’t want to spawn any kids for Manticore anymore than you did. Eventually, a bond began to form between you and of course, so did an attraction. The night you got hit with your first heat since being recaptured—thanks to a splash of feline DNA in your system, something you’d always been able to manage on the outside before—things had changed between you, and 494 no longer had to lie when reporting that copulation had been successful. Nonetheless, the entire time you’d been back in Manticore’s hands, you’d never forgotten about that picture and what you truly wanted: your freedom, a life, and eventually, family—happiness. You wanted to be happy just like the people in the poster.

And now here you were: on the outside, free for the moment, attempting to build a life, and this picture had somehow made its way back to you, right into your very hands, real enough to literally touch. “How did you get it?”

“One of Max’s fences gave me a line on where I could find one.”

You glanced up to find him watching you intently. You gave him a small grateful smile and you could see relief flood through his expression before he covered it with a smile of his own.

He cleared his throat. “I got it before you showed up, but…I never watched it. I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt wrong to watch it without you, especially after how you talked about it, so it’s been sitting in that case for months. I hope it still works.” He let out in a quiet chuckle.

You placed the box down on top of the TV and approached him. He watched as you cupped his face with your hands and pulled him down to you, your lips meeting for the first time since seeing him again. That all-too familiar feeling flooded you and this time, you didn’t fight the smile that made its way to your face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” This time, he was the one initiating a kiss, and he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

Only when you both needed air and he pulled away to trail kisses down to your neck did you tease into his ear, “So exactly how many girls have you shown this movie to?”

“None,” he breathed, nibbling on your earlobe. “I told you, I didn’t want to watch it without you.”

“You expect me to believe that you haven’t shown the TV or the VCR to any other girls?” You chuckled.

He pulled back to meet your eyes. “Okay, yeah, fair enough, I’ve shown them both of those, but not that movie, I swear. That was always yours.”

You knew you should be disgusted—not only that he had been such a callous player in your absence but also because he had used similar moves on you—but right then, you decided to throw all caution to the wind, even if just for one night. Seeing the movie picture again had reminded you that you needed to take happiness wherever you could find it, because thanks to your life, who knew how much longer you had? 

“So,” you whispered huskily as you ran your fingers through his hair. “What were you saying about a bed and no time limit…?”

His eyes lit up with that familiar fire and he smirked. “Oh, hell yes.” He kissed you harder than before and picked you up, making you laugh into his mouth, as he used his transgenic speed to get you to the bedroom. 

You watched the images on the screen in awe. You and Alec were sharing a blanket to keep your nude bodies warm as you sat in his embrace, the only light in the place coming from the TV. He had his chin resting on your bare shoulder, watching the movie intently with you. The man from the movie poster, George, was telling the woman, Mary, how he was going to travel the world and he was listing off his dreams right before she threw a rock at the abandoned house they were facing. When they started singing, Alec began to frown, but you? You were completely enraptured. You’d never seen or heard anything like this before. 

In the beginning, the tape had seemed like it didn’t want to work, black and white tears in the image as it played, but thankfully Alec knew what he was doing with the equipment and how to get it working. Ever since then, your eyes hadn’t strayed from the screen once, even when Alec had tried to get a second round going, promising you he could pause the film and you could finish watching it later. When he’d failed to garner your attention, he’d pressed a kiss to the back of your head and settled behind you, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment as he’d burrowed into your neck before rejoining you in watching the movie.

When George told Mary that he’d give her the moon, Alec rolled his eyes and dropped a kiss onto your skin. “That’s lame,” he muttered.

You turned to look at him. “Why? Because he wants to give her anything she wants?”

“No. Because he’s going to lasso the moon. Lasso the moon? Really?”

You laughed and he smiled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Alright, sure, it’s cheesy, but the message isn’t.”

“It’s not?” Alec moved to kiss your ear.

“No. He likes her that much, he’d do anything for her. Kind of nice actually,” you ended in a whisper as you turned back to the screen. You let out a soft chuckle when the old man interrupted the couple and told George that he talked too much and he should kiss Mary already.

Alec, who had glanced back at the screen to watch that part of the scene, turned an affectionate smile on you before leaning in to nuzzle your cheek. “Stay here tonight,” he urged.

Your eyelids dropped halfway when he moved his lips to your neck and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “I can’t. Joshua will be worried.”

“The big guy will be just fine, trust me,” he promised, his lips gliding back to your shoulder. “I want you to stay.”

You thought it over. You both had reacquainted yourselves earlier quite nicely so that wasn’t an issue. Just like Alec had said, it had been amazing to be in a bed for once, not under the pressure of a timeclock or having to worry about prying eyes and listening ears milling around. You didn’t have to separate soon after you were finished if the guards Alec usually bribed weren’t on shift that night. Here, you were free to just be and let things take their own course and that had been a phenomenal feeling. As for what came next… you weren’t too sure about that. You hadn’t done a lot of talking since Alec carried you into his bedroom and playfully dropped you on the bed, knowing it wouldn’t hurt you. You had let out an incredulous laugh and he mirrored your grin before he’d been all over you.

You watched as he pressed tender kisses to your bare skin before glancing up at you hopefully. You took his face into your hand and he leaned into your touch. Seeing that, you decided to state your one condition if he truly wanted you to stay. “No more girls.” You refused to look away as you threw down that gauntlet. While he never said he wanted anything more than tonight with you, you needed him to know that if this did somehow go past that, you wouldn’t be wondering just who he had in his bed or on his couch a few hours before you would arrive at his front door. Or who he might bring back to this apartment to show his TV and VCR to. 

He stared at you for a moment until the corner of his lips tipped up into a bit of a smug smile. “No more girls,” he agreed.

You tilted your head at him, studying his expression.

“What?” He laughed. 

“Just like that?”

Alec’s smile grew and he leaned in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just like that.” You weren’t the least bit surprised when he suddenly turned you around in his arms to face him, one hand keeping the blanket over you, cocooning you both. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you before covering both of your heads with the blanket and leaning in for the kill.

“What about the movie?” You laughed as he began to kiss your neck.

“That’s the great thing about tapes. We can watch it again anytime we want,” he murmured, his hands starting to roam your body insistently.

“So we can watch the lasso the moon part again?” You teased.

He groaned into your neck, making you laugh. “Yeah, we can, if that’s what you want,” he grumbled, sounding like he was going to majorly suffer when you watched it again.

You pulled back, smiling, and cupped his face. “I want you,” you told him earnestly. And you did. You wanted more nights with him like this, you wanted what you two had managed to create back in your cell. Studying him now, you could see the man who had become almost everything to you back then, who’d kept you going during the rough moments, who ended up looking out for you even though he usually lived by the unwritten rule of only ever looking out for himself.  

His eyes stared into yours and a small smile began to form on his face. “Then stay,” he urged.

You pretended to think over it for a minute and when you grinned over at him, his smile was already mirroring yours. “Okay,” you answered playfully, as if he had only posed a simple question like asking you if you wanted a drink or not. You moved up to kiss him and bury your fingers in his disheveled hair. “No lassoing the moon required,” you murmured to his lips.

He rolled his eyes and quickly maneuvered you onto your back with him right on top of you. He smirked down at you, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll give you something better than the damn moon,” he mumbled into your mouth, making you laugh. 

You didn’t want the moon or the stars (except the ones Alec made you see exploding behind your eyelids from time to time) or anything else that grand. What you wanted was simple: everything right here in front of you at this moment. A life that was your own, a job that helped keep money coming in, a roof over your head that offered protection from the cold, the wet, and intruders, while offering you a safe space to rest your head at night; food in your stomach, clothes that fit, and the feelings that coursed through you every time Alec kissed you.

Post-pulse Seattle might not be Bedford Falls and you might not be George Bailey or even Mary for that matter, but you were free, you were building a life, and you were happy. And someday, if you lived long enough, you might even get that family you’d been yearning for. From the look of things, between Joshua, Max, and now Alec, you were hopefully already starting to form something akin to the idea. And really, what more could you ask for?

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊

[deerspherestudios]

♬ POV: a mushroom man falls in love with you.🍄❤️ ♬ - playlist

Hi hi hello! I've made a Mushroom Oasis-themed Spotify playlist :-) It's meant to be a narrative playlist; currently it focuses on Day 1. I'm excited to add more to it as I update the game with more days!

I've already curated a list for the future, but haven't included them yet since it'll spoil events/endings ;-)

I'm really happy with it!! <3 Feel free to have a listen!

Ramblings for song choices below:

DAY 1:

1. FUNGUS by The Narcissist Cookbook [LINK] "I try to remember, that there may very well be a link between us, that I can't see." (An introduction to Mushroom Oasis. Might have been the main inspiration for Mychael. Oh, to be interconnected by an unseen force and feeling a sense of belonging to individuals you've never met </3)

2. Entngled Life by Merlin, Cosmo Sheldrake [LINK] "Dwelling places, more than one. Becoming lichens of our own minds." (No that wasn't a typo in the title hjshdh. But uh oh!! You stepped on something you shouldn't have. Down you go. You're not yourself anymore. It's okay. You'll be fine. :-))

3. Once Upon a Dream (Music Box Version) by Henry William [LINK] "♬♩♫♬♬♩♫♬♬♩♫♬" (Also the main menu theme of the game, but a different version since I couldn't find the one I used on Spotify. You go "honk shoo honk shoo" basically.)

4. There Was Something Behind You by SHUDDER [LINK] "Behind you, inside you, I can't help but see. It's growing, it's killing what matters to me... It seems you saw something you shouldn't see." (You finally wake up to see Mychael! But he can tell something is wrong with you. Hey, please don't go won't you stay for dinner? Also hints at the bad ending if you squint.)

5. Treehouse by Alex G, Emily Yacina [LINK] "I'm really glad you think I'm so funny. I don't think I'm ever gonna let you leave." (Mychael's thoughts as he starts to realize he kinda likes you :-) Also really really happy you decided to stay. Let him serve you some dinner!)

6. My Ugly by Cloudfodder [LINK] "Please forgive my ugly, I should've picked to be born more lovely." (Mychael panicking about revealing his true self. The song itself is pretty suggestive but I feel like it fits in a more intrusive thought kind of way. Like how it feels to be desirable to anyone you meet etc. Luckily you accept him as he is <3)

7. Mayonaka No Door / Stay With Me by Chris Andrian Yang [LINK] "Stay with me. Knocking on Midnight’s door, begging you not to go home... I’ll never forget it as long as I live." (Very self explanatory. You can imagine Mychael singing it to you as you go to sleep <3)

DAY 2: COMING SOON.

[alespov]

- I’ve seen this film before

Trigger Warnings : mentions of the raccon city incident, reader gets a bit upset.

Author Note : hii loves, I just needed a small break. All of the asks that I received, has been answered and will be posted soon. Thank you for all of the love <3 { repost from my old blog} feedback is highly appreciated <33

Iced vanilla coffee with pumpkin cold foam," the barista announced. Eagerly, you slid your bookmark back into the pages of your book, your anticipation growing with each step toward the counter. Autumn's arrival meant it was finally time to indulge in your cherished seasonal beverage. As you reached out to claim your coffee, an unexpected hand swiftly grasped it before you could blink.

"Oh sorry, did I get the wrong order?" As you turned, you became captivated by a man whose striking blue eyes seemed to pierce deep into your soul. You found yourself irresistibly drawn to his gaze, utterly entranced by the intensity and allure of his eyes.

"Hey.... you okay?" he said while snapping his fingers. You snapped out of your trance and were a bit embarrassed.

"Uh, I'm terribly sorry. I thought this was my order, but I definitely could be mistaken," you explained clearly embarrassed, the flushed cheeks gave it away.

Just then, the barista called out another coffee order identical to yours. The man laughed, "Oh this one must be mine."

The two of you shared another look and went back to sit at your respective tables. You've had a busy day and it was only one in the afternoon. So sitting in the peaceful cafe was just what you needed.

As the hours slipped by, you became wholly absorbed in crafting the second draft of your second novel. The success of your debut work left an indelible mark on your heart, setting high expectations for this sequel. Vividly recounting your harrowing experiences in Raccoon City, the book pays special tribute to the valiant blonde rookie cop who risked everything to rescue you and your friends. Though time has drifted you all apart, the fast-approaching anniversary of those fateful events evokes bittersweet memories that continue to shape and inspire your writing.

You were absorbed in editing your draft you didn't see someone sitting across from you. Pulling out your earbuds and you brushed your hair back. You noted it was the man from earlier, "Oh sorry I didn't see you there."

As you smiled at him, charmed by his shyness, you started chatting about how your respective days went. Intrigued, he questioned you about the book you were writing, and as you explained your ideas, you couldn't help but mention its prequel, causing his eyes to widen in surprise.

“"So, you were part of the Raccoon City incident?" he inquired with a hint of curiosity, his fingers absentmindedly playing with his watch. Caught off guard by this unexpected question, especially since it was a topic rarely discussed, you opted for honesty. The incident was not your favorite conversation piece, so you preferred to write under a pseudonym. Amusingly enough, none of your readers had any clue about your true identity or appearance.

“Uhh yea I was, my friends and I was going to a party. We were all riding together, and the police had shut the roads down. Then… the monsters came.” You trialed off, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes. The man looked sympathetic and grabbed you hand. “Hey it’s okay… I promise it’s gets easier. You just have to have the right person.” He cradled your hand in his own, and gave you a gentle squeeze.

“If not for Officer Kennedy, I wouldn't be standing here today. The first book is an immense homage to him," you said with a smile, attempting to conceal the depth of your emotions. He was just a stranger who nearly picked up your coffee by mistake, and you didn't want to impose the weight of your past on him.

“If it’s any help, I was also there. It was the first day of the job for me.” He began and the pieces hadn’t clicked yet.

"I remember that day vividly. It was my first day on the job, and little did I know, it would also be a day I would never forget. I rushed into the gas station, running late after a terrible breakup with my girlfriend the night before. As I raced to my car, my heart pounding with adrenaline, I knew that this day would be different. And little did I know, it would be the start of a wild and crazy journey that would change my life forever." He moved his blonde hair out of his face.

“Oh I’m so sor-“ he cut you off, “I’m fine, I’ve learned to heal.”

You nodded and the barista reminded everyone it was closing time, on some days they closed at 2:30 in the afternoon. You gathered your things, and the man waited for you.

“Allow me to walk you out?” He held out his arm for you to take. You giggled a bit embarrassed and accepted his arm.

He walked you to your car and helped you set your stuff in the back. You had realized after talking to him for so long, that you didn’t even know his name. He was getting ready to leave but you stopped him.

“You know I never got your name.” You pointed out to him. He chucked and said. “How rude of me, you can call me Officer Kennedy.” The color must have drained from your face.

“It’s okay. It’s okay I’m sorry I should have said something earlier.” You felt like fainting, he grabbed a hold of your wait and gently helped you sit down.

“Oh.. my I didn’t even realize.” He shook his head. Brushing you off. “Honestly it’s okay… I’m glad your safe after all these years. To be honest I kinda tracked you down here.”

You looked at him confused. “ my friend Claire was reading the book, and she sent it to me. I just had to see you. I don’t really care for pumpkin ice coffee. I just overheard that you ordered it.” He laughed nervously.

You laughed at him and he smirked “so.. do you think I could get an autograph.”

[waynes-multiverse]

Soldier boy x breeding kink because we all know he has one 🥵🤰

@syrma-sensei

A/N: A fun one! Wasn't even surprised I got this one twice. Like lovely anon put it so perfectly, we all know that man has a heavy breeding kink, and I was all too happy to make his (and your) wishes come true. Let myself get a little inspired by the lyrics of the Zombie's song for this one 😈

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, drinking, celebrity name drops, smut (rough p in v, dirty talk, breeding kink, daddy kink, spanking, slight degrading, a technical age gap), naive reader, SB being a manipulative asshole

Word Count: 1.5k

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Time of the Season

April 1969

“She’s too young for you.”

Soldier Boy heaves an irritated sigh at his manager’s words but keeps his sparkling green eyes stubbornly trained on the young waitress who’s currently refilling Alan Arkin’s champagne glass. “Nonsense, Legend. She’s perfect. Just fuckin’ look at her,” he huffs and nurses his scotch.

“I am,” his manager insists. “She’s too fucking young for you. You’re technically turning fifty this year. Times are changing. You can’t just wet your dick with any pussy you want anymore. That girl doesn’t look older than twenty.”

“Twenty-three, actually,” Soldier Boy smirks cunningly. “I asked around. Prime of her life.”

The Legend scoffs and shakes his head. “Why don’t you fuck someone your age, huh? Like Katharine Hepburn?”

“You’re fucking kidding, right? That fucking broad is even older than me,” Soldier Boy bites and motions down two tables to the actress in question, admiring her little golden statue. He almost won one of those himself in 1951 for his biopic – not that he needs that useless glory.

“Do you know who has to clean up your fucking mess if you go a little too rough on this poor girl again? I do! And then there’s the reporters and the tabloids…”

“I’ll be careful, okay? Trust me. Last thing I wanna do is fucking break her,” he chuckles devilishly and empties his tumbler, flagging the young waitress down for another drink.

“Yes, sir? Can I get you another one?” She smiles brightly at him, shifting nervously on her low heels.

“That would be fantastic, doll,” Soldier Boy smiles charmingly up at her, causing a red tint to haunt her cheeks. “And how about you give me your name as well and tell me when I can get you outta this boring event, hm? Someone as pretty as you surely deserves to have some fucking fun, too.”

“Wow, I’ve never been here before,” the young girl gasps with eyes as wide as the illuminated Hollywood sign on the hills when Soldier Boy shoos her into his usual suite at the Chateau Marmont – room 29. “Was that Desi Arnaz in the lobby?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” Soldier Boy mutters disinterestedly as he shuts the door behind them and wanders to the bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch on the rocks. “Lucy’s probably nagging the shit outta him again.”

“Really? But they seem like such a lovely couple,” Y/N, that's her name, says in surprise and eagerly accepts the glass of alcohol he hands her.

“Yeah, it’s called TV, doll. It’s all fake,” Soldier Boy forces a smile to his lips and sips on his drink as he leans against the dresser across from her, raking his eyes over her exquisite, hourglass body. Nice rack, juicy ass, and perfectly wide hips with a small waist he could squeeze between his large hands. With a figure like hers, she surely wouldn’t have any trouble bearing his sons.

“It’s so crazy. I grew up in a small town in Kansas. Never imagined any of this when I came here, much less meeting someone like you,” she explains, her cheeks blushing rosy-red.

Soldier Boy only chuckles, loving that he already has this girl exactly where he wants her without putting much effort into it. “Well, sugar, it’s my pleasure. Like I said, gorgeous girl like you deserves some attention,” he coos and saunters over to the bed, sitting down next to her. His hand reaches out and gently brushes a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, practically feeling the heat radiate off her cheeks from the simple gesture.

“I’m not that pretty,” she swallows insecurely and hides parts of her face. “Why did you pick me? There were way more beautiful and more important women in that room. I saw how Brigitte Bardot looked at you the whole night.”

Ben purses his lips, shaking his head. “Nah, you have something that these whores don’t have, doll. All they want is money and fame. I’m not interested in that. I’m not even interested in that for a fuck,” he lies before mixing in the truth, “You see, what I want is a family. A nice, obedient wife to come home to after a long, hard day.”

“Wife?” Her eyes widen in disbelief, but as he expected, she isn’t appalled by the idea.

His smile widens as he strokes the apple of her cheek. “Yeah, you know? Someone who takes care of me, can give me kids, make me dinner, bake a decent pie,” he tells her.

“Really? Well, I actually make a great blueberry pie. Even won a contest in my hometown a few years back,” she informs him proudly.

“See? I knew you were the perfect girl for me the moment I laid eyes on you,” Soldier Boy grins broadly. “And I mean, I don’t wanna impose, but you’re probably sick of waitressing and working odd jobs to make ends meet at this point, aren’t you? C’mon, lemme take care of you, huh? I can give you everything you want. You want a house? A credit card? Nice clothes? I’ll make sure every dream you have comes true, baby girl.”

For a moment, Y/N chews on her bottom lip before she meets his gaze with a hopeful look shimmering in her eyes. “You mean it?”

“Of course! I’d never lie to you, my sweet girl. You can trust me. I'm America's hero, after all,” he smiles slyly and lifts her chin with two fingers, forcing her to keep eye contact. “There’s just one thing you have to do for me.”

“Okay, anything,” Y/N all too eagerly nods her agreement. “Can I just ask your real name first? I don't wanna call you Soldier Boy during, uhm...”

Soldier Boy laughs lowly. “I’ll tell you in the morning, baby girl. How about for tonight, you just call me daddy, hm?”

“Fuck, daddy! Harder, please!” Y/N moans as he has her bent on the bed, crying out on all fours for him as he fucks into her from behind. Her perky ass is high up in the air as he grips the flesh on her hips, bruising her delicate skin purple, green, and blue.

Y/N has been a bit of a very positive surprise. So much so that he’s actually considering keeping the bitch. First of all, she’s deliciously loud. Dickhead Howard Hughes has already knocked on their door twice and complained about the unbearable noise level. Secondly, Y/N’s submissive and obedient and does just about anything he tells her to do. Nothing seems too shabby or naughty for that little whore. He fucked her throat till she was choking and crying, and still, she didn’t even whine once. She’s damn responsive, too, and comes faster than lightning. And last but not least, her pussy is probably one of the tightest ones he’s ever had, and if he didn’t plan on fucking a spawn into her, he’d love to fuck her asshole as well, but he supposes that one has to wait till she’s on her period, or better yet – already round with his child.

His balls tighten at the thought alone, slapping against her cunt as his thumb furiously rubs her clit to force another orgasm out of her. He just needs one more clench of his cock before he’s ready to burst as well and coat her walls with his seed.

“You’re gonna be my little breeding bitch now, huh?” Soldier Boy prompts, his palm sharply coming down on her asscheek as he spanks her luscious flesh, both globes already burning red from his constant abuse, but damn, he just can’t get enough of that noise.

“Yes, daddy… Wanna be full of your cum,” she whimpers needily and even pushes her hips back into him to meet his thrusts.

“Such a good slut you are,” he praises her and spanks her other cheek as well. “‘M proud of you, baby girl. You’re gonna make a great mother to our sons.”

“Fuck yes!”

“Gonna come for me again, hm? Need you to come one more time when I’m deep, so I can pump that pretty pussy full of cum,” Soldier Boy groans, spearing his thick cock in and out of her abused cunt.

One last harsh pound of his hips and Y/N breaks down, her pussy violently pulsating around his throbbing length and milking him dry as she takes him over the edge with her as her orgasm ripples through her small body. An animalistic grunt leaves his throat as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside her.

When he feels his dick soften, he carefully lays them both down, keeping her in place and his cock in her cunt as their sweat-clad bodies stick together on the filthy sheets. She’s breathing heavily, close to passing out, as he chuckles and lays a flat palm on her lower belly, gently brushing the spot.

“Fuck, you’re gonna look so good carrying my child, baby girl,” he whispers softly into her ear.

“Thank you, daddy. You’re the best,” Y/N mumbles blissfully, her eyes closing.

Y/N’s the sixth girl he fucked raw in the last couple of months. He always tells them the same thing but ends up fucking and leaving. All he wants is to know that his DNA is living on somewhere, running around in the world out there. But honestly? Y/N’s so perfect that he might just keep this one as a side piece and fuck a million more kids into her. Maybe he'll even buy her that fucking house.

Pfff, can you tell I had fucking fun with this one? 🤣

Btw, I've decided to keep the dirty drabbles open for now, so you can keep sending them in if you have more smutty thoughts and kinks to get off your chest 😉 I already have a loooot for Dean, so Beau, Jensen, and SB especially are very welcome! There's no timeline when I'll post them. I figured this could just be a fun little idea we can keep doing in between ☺️🤷‍♀️

So, you have a kinky request? Then fill up my ask box, bitches 🖤

Tag Lists:

Everything J: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

[mystra-midnight]

Haunted Hoedown - DAY FOUR

summary: it felt like a thunderstorm was roaring in your head. Yyu heard him, but his words didn't register in your brain the way they should have. there was only building, mounting, and ruining pleasure that was spreading through your organs and seizing your limbs.

warnings: ghost!eddie x reader. mentions of an unsatisfying sex life/readers ex being a douche. masturbation. voyeurism. somnophilia. eddie being a tad mean/dom.

words: 5.7k

notes: day four of the haunted hoedown challenge being hosted by @inklore and @psychedelic-ink. a bit delayed because i was away seeing amy lee live and in person and fangirling. i tried a different style here with that i'm not 100% sure i love but i hope you enjoy reading.

prompt: american horror story Inspired + “i would burn the world for you.”

May 7th. 2001.

"Tell me why this place is so cheap."

You looked wide-eyed around the apartment. It was utterly perfect—exactly what you'd been hoping for when moving to Hawkins, Indiana. The walls were painted off-white, there were brand new stainless steel appliances, and there were timber floors throughout. The ceilings were high, and there was a little reading nook, two large bedrooms, and a large clawed bathtub.

But the best part was that it was advertised at more than half the true market value. It was absolutely ridiculous, crazy, and completely illogical, and you couldn't understand why.

You saw the realtor flinch at the question, which immediately brought you down from the clouds. Shit. Of course, it was too good to be true. There had to be something wrong with the property for the owner to be selling it for practically next to nothing.

With a sigh, you faced him. His expression was grim.

"Well, you see, um, there was, uh," he stammered, tripping over his words as he searched for the right ones, the ones that wouldn't scare you away. "About fifteen years ago, before the urban development and technology boom came to Hawkins, a young man died in the trailer park that used to be on this lot."

Your heart dropped as the horror of his words sank in, but the feeling was fleeting. Someone who was a stranger to you died ten years ago. They hadn't even lived in the apartment, so that didn't explain the next-to-nothing price. You said as much to the realtor, pressing him for more information.

"The owners want to sell the property quickly, rather than for money. They've explained that there were some... how do I put this? Some strange events occurred while they were living here."

"Such as?"

"Things would move when no one was around. There were always problems with the central heating. The televisions and radios would change channels in the middle of programmes or turn on in the middle of the night. I assume most of this is because of defective wiring somewhere in the building, but none of the electricians were able to find the cause."

You watched him cringe, as though saying the words aloud was physically painful to him. It all sounded ridiculous. And none of it was enough to make you turn down such a fantastic property for such a stupidly low price.

"That's all?" You teased, flashing the man a smile. "Consider the place sold.

June 11th. 2001.

Despite the realtor double-checking and then triple-checking, you crossed your T's and dotted your I's and bought the apartment that same day. You moved in the following month, piling boxes upon boxes, each one with a specific room written on it in your scribble: kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, guest room, reading. You bought new furniture and decorated the walls with pictures of your family and the knick-knacks you'd accumulated after college.

It had taken weeks to sort out all the rooms and empty all the boxes, but the apartment finally felt like a real home, and you'd completely forgotten what the realtor had said when showing you the property: strange events.

It started after three blissful and uneventful weeks. Things had started to go missing, just like he said. It wasn't anything overly important, just small things like your rings, your glasses, or sometimes even your panties. Things would go missing for days at a time before reappearing in locations that they had no business being in.

And then the cold started. Not just cold, but freezing cold.

It got so bad that some nights you would see your own breath misting in the air. It never seemed to matter how high you set the thermostat or how many blankets you piled on top of you—you couldn't stop shivering.

But while all these things were certainly strange, they weren't illogical. You could explain each of them: you misplaced things because you'd moved towns—hell, you'd moved states—and were getting used to living somewhere new. It was also cold because the central heating was faulty. The lights would flicker because the wiring was done wrong. All of that made perfect sense.

But what didn't make a lick of logical sense was when things started to move while you were staring right at them. Hallway doors would swing wide open, slamming into the walls as though they'd been ripped open violently in fits of rage. Shadows would creep along the walls when you weren't looking. You'd catch a glimpse from the corner of your eyes of these stalking shapes, only for them to be gone when you turned to look at them.

Then the photos started to fall from their hooks on the wall, sometimes thrown across the room, so that the frames broke and glass shards littered the floors. You make yourself a meal only for the plate to be thrown off the table and against the wall, leaving the paint stained with splotches. It frightened you, leaving you turning off the lights, running to bed, and hiding under the covers like you were suddenly twelve years old again.

The worst of it was when the dissonant whispering started. It would wake you in the middle of the night, leaving you clutching a baseball bat for dear life. Your co-workers all agreed that you were stressed and overworked, probably exhausted from uprooting your entire life and moving across the country. None of them believed in ghosts, horror stories, or haunted houses.

You thought you might be going insane until you saw him.

July 4th. 2001.

Eddie Munson.

"Hey!" You called, startling the boy standing in front of your dresser. The top right drawer was opened, and your panties were on full display. Hidden beneath them was your vibrator, and you found yourself flustered, angry, embarrassed, and scared.

He looked at you with wide doe-eyes, swimming pools of brown that you could easily get lost in if he wasn't holding a pair of your panties to his nose like some god-damn pervert. You held a bat in your hand, ready to swing, when he turned and ran. You give chase, following him around the queen bed with fresh sheets and into the bathroom that joined the two bedrooms.

By the time you rounded the bed and made it through the doorway, he was gone, seemingly having vanished into thin air. Your panties were on the ground. You spent hours checking rooms, closets, and any nook and cranny a boy of his size could hide in. You even called the police and filed a report, but there was no evidence of forced entry.

In the days that followed, you took to sleeping with the bat besides the bed and a kitchen knife beneath your pillows. It was childish, but having them so close made you feel safer.

The next few weeks were surprisingly and uneventful, and soon you settled back into a familiar routine. Work five days a week, from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon, come home and eat, channel surf for a few hours, shower, and sleep. You were even able to have friends over without anything weird ruining the atmosphere.

It was as you were chancel surfing that you saw him again. You were looking through the music stations for something to listen to while you showered; you skimmed through the pop stations and skipped over the metal stations before setting on one that was playing When It's Over by Sugar Ray. The song was catchy and tended to get stuck in your head with how much it played on the radio, but it was a good one.

"Wait! Go back!"

You screamed.

With your heart pounding wildly in your chest and your stomach having fallen out of your arse, you stared at him. He seemed entirely unaware of your fright, instead gesturing frantically at the television. "Turn it back!"

This was the first time you'd gotten an up-close look at him. He was dressed in black jeans with rips in the knees and a shirt that said Hellfire Club. As he motioned between the remote in your hand and the television, it rode up, revealing a trail of hair that started at his navel and disappeared into his jeans. He had a leather jacket on and a denim Dio vest over it.

He looked like something straight out of the 80's.

"Back!" He yelled louder this time. He sounded panicked and frantic, and that was what snapped you from your stupor. You flicked backwards through the channels, finding the metal music one, when he ordered you to stop. He stared wide-eyed at the television, where Metallica was playing a live concert. You recognised the song; it was Fuel.

"That's James Hetfield," he said, his tone disbelieving. He flopped open-mouthed onto the couch as Kirk Hammett and Lars Ulrich began the opening rift. "This is Metallica."

"Yeah?"

"I don't know this song."

"It was released about four years ago; how can you not have heard it?"

You pressed yourself tightly into the arm of the couch, feeling it dig painfully into your back, when he whirled around to face you. His face was overcome with surprise, shock, and something else you'd yet to comprehend. Wild curls bounced around his face before settling into place.

"Four years?"

You shivered beneath the intensity of his stare and his emotions; even his presence in your apartment sent a chill down your spine. You nodded quickly, clutching the television to your chest like it was a weapon. Your grip was so tight that your knuckles ached.

"That's not possible," he whispered, turning back to the television as the lyrics started. "They look different. They sound different. This is crazy. They just released Master of Puppets?"

That caught your attention, and it was then your turn to be surprised.

"That was fifteen years ago."

"What?" He rounded on you a second time.

Over the next few weeks, you learned more about him. He’d lived in the trailer park with his uncle Wayne, and he’d passed in a tragic accident, an earthquake; his uncle had never found his body. You suspected there was more to it, but he was unwilling to give more details.

That accident had happened fifteen years ago, and the trailer park had been demolished about seven years later. A development block had been built to replace it, which eventually turned into an apartment complex as Hawkins expanded.

Eddie had only been twenty-one when he died. You learned that he liked music. Well, no, you learned that he loved Metallica and Dio. So you started to leave the television on when you went to work, letting it play from dusk to dawn to keep him entertained. Then you started buying magazines and comics to leave them open for him to read; you even bought home Metallica's latest CD.

And as the weeks dragged on, his presence in your apartment became less terrifying, except for the times he would seemingly materialise from nowhere. You even started asking him to hang out with you at night. The two of you would spend hours watching movies and music videos and just talking.

September 19th. 2001.

"Come on, Eddie!" You whined. He was behaving like a child, and you were exasperated and fed up with his antics. He was standing in front of the door with his arms crossed over his chest, obscuring the words on the front of his shirt.

"Don't you 'Eddie' me," he cautioned, his brown eyes narrowing into a glare. He hated the idea that you were mocking him, though he was smart enough to realise that wasn't what you were doing right now. "He's an asshole. I don't understand why you can't see it."

"Because I know him! You've only ever seen him! Briefly, I might add!"

Eddie threw his hands up in frustration; the sound that left his mouth was all but a growl. He wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until your brains leaked out of your ears. Then you might be smart enough to realise that Michael was a fucking douchebag. "And I see you too!" Eddie spat, the fieriness in his tone making you roll your eyes and shiver simultaneously.

"Every time you've seen him, you come home frustrated, like the man doesn't know how to fuck or something! You always come back bitchier than when you left!"

"Eddie!"

If you could have hit him, you would have. His words hit too close to home for comfort. Michael was nice enough, if not vain and at times arrogant. He came from money, and he often acted and thought that money would carry him through the world. But he treated you well enough, and you enjoyed his company most of the time.

Except Eddie's intuition hit the nail on the head—Michael didn't know how to fuck. At least, not well. Each time you felt the familiar warmth of orgasm approaching, the same thing happened. It didn't matter that you'd be crying out his name and clawing at his back, begging him not to stop; he'd move, change his angle, change his pace, change his position, and you would be left a frustrated mess.

On the rare occasions he cared, he was able to make you cum. He'd work you over until you tumbled into oblivion, his fingers buried in your pussy as it clenched and spasmed around them, your back arched off the mattress. But he cared for his own pleasure above all others, and nine times out of ten, you didn't finish.

"Eddie!" He mocked. "Is my name the only thing you can say, sweetheart?"

"I'm not taking dating advice from a dead man!"

You regretted the words the moment they left your mouth. Tears burned in the back of your throat from how you swallowed the urge to cry, your emotions reaching a fever pitch as you walked through him. And as you passed, the cold of his presence enveloped you in a frigid hug but didn't stop you.

Instead, you left.

You drank too much that night; said too much, and let Michael work you over for far longer than you normally would. After being compliant and patient all night, he draped your legs over his shoulders, grunting and groaning as he fucked you, only to cum on your stomach before kissing you goodnight and slipping away. That had been the boiling point.

The relationship ended with you slapping Michael so hard that your hand hurt.

When you made it back home, the apartment was dark, cold, and empty. The television had turned off automatically at some point in the evening, and none of the lights were on. You’d expected him to be waiting for you with a smug smirk and an I told you so attitude, but Eddie wasn’t there, and that hurt more than the disappointing sex.

September 26th. 2001.

Six days later, you still hadn't seen him. Each night you tossed and turned, his absence from your life a gaping wound that often left you bleeding out and gasping for air. The apartment felt too large without him—too quiet and too empty. But you resigned yourself to the fact that you'd chased him away. He'd have found someone else to haunt, someone who appreciated him instead of insulting him. So you found something else to occupy your mind.

Except while you were settling into the mountain of pillows on your bed, the scent of clean linen and vanilla swirling around the room, he decided to make his grand reappearance. Well, no, not exactly.

The moment he chose to reappear was when you were sprawled on the bed, thighs spread wide, and heels dug into the mattress as you worked the tips of your fingers over your aching clit and into your leaking hole. You hadn't had sex since breaking up with Michael, but the ache had been in your belly long before that. The knot between your hips was pulled taut when you saw Eddie standing at the foot of the bed, panic bursting to life inside your chest. You snapped your thighs tight together, your hand flying to press into the sheets to hide the sticky evidence of your arousal.

"Don't stop," he said softly, his voice breathy and light. His wide-doe eyes meet yours. "Please."

"Eddie," you whispered as your face warmed with embarrassment. He didn't miss the way you rubbed your thighs together, desperate to stifle the ache between them. In that moment, you wanted him to be the one touching you. You wanted to feel the warmth and weight of his palms as he held you down and his breath on your neck as he kissed, bit, and sucked. You wanted him in the worst way, and it hurt you beyond words that you couldn't have him.

"Open them." His tone was harsh this time—forceful and demanding, enticing a soft whine from your parted lips. The smirk that found its way to his plump lips was sinful. "No wonder he couldn't get you off. Was he too soft, sweetheart? You need to be told what you want to do, fucked like a whore, to be able to cum?"

Eddie wanted to grab your ankles and drag you to him. Your little nub was so sensitive that he wanted to spread you open and rub the tip of his tongue against it until you were begging for him. He wanted to watch you cum on his cock, his fingers, his thigh, his tongue, and his cock again. He wanted to feel you with every fibre of his ghostly being. "Be a good girl and open your legs, yeah?"

You were slow to react. You parted your thighs slowly and shyly until you were exposed to his hungry gaze. The insides of your thighs were sticky and shiny with the evidence of your first orgasm; your puffy folds were still slick as you parted them with your fingers, moving to rub one on either side of your clit. Your breath hitched at the sensation and the way his eyes followed your movements.

"Eddie," you whined his name softly while your head tipped back, your throat exposed, and your chest heaving with each sharp intake of air. The crown of your head mashed against the pillows, leaving your hair a mess. You imagined the way his hands would feel—rough and calloused. He'd played guitar before his death; you knew he'd be good with his fingers. He'd be able to find that spot deep inside your gummy walls that made stars, no, galaxies, burst to life inside your veins.

"What a fucking prick." He spat the words through his teeth, each syllable filled with venom. "Didn't know how good of a thing he had until it was gone. Never even deserved to have such a pretty pussy if he couldn't get you off. I bet he couldn't even do it with his fingers buried in there or with his tongue, either. Bet he just rammed his dick in without getting you worked up first."

"He doesn’t.." You sighed, your breath airy and full of arousal. "He... he never tasted me."

If it were possible, Eddie would have cum in his pants like a fucking virgin. Not only had that asshole left you a worked-up and unsatisfied mess because he didn't know how to fuck you right, he'd never even tasted you, which was a crying shame. Right now, all Eddie wanted to do was have your sweet cunt beneath his mouth. You were a feast on display, and he was forbidden from tasting, touching, and fucking.

Eddie watched as you pushed your fingers into your clenching hole, chasing the orgasm that was starting to sear through your veins. You were so wet, your slick dripping down the crack of your ass, only to be lost in the bed sheets. "Forget about him," he followed up with a gentler tone, the cold of his presence enveloping the air around you until your nipples turned to hardened peaks that crowned your tits. "Forget about him. Just touch that hot cunt for me, sweetheart."

You answered him with a whimper, your lower lip quivering before being captured between your teeth as your fingers moved deeper, seeking and searching for that sweet stop. You heard his sharp intake of breath as you fingered yourself; the schlick sounds echoing around the room were obscene and pornographic. Your slick arousal coated your fingers, your hand, your palm, and your thighs, shining beneath the dull glow of moonlight that peaked through the windows.

"Harder," he barked, and you obeyed. The heel of your palm slapped against your clit with each thrust of your fingers. "Faster."

It felt like a thunderstorm was roaring in your head. You heard him, but his words didn't register in your brain the way they should have. There was only building, mounting, and ruining pleasure that was spreading through your organs and seizing your limbs. You come hard and long, crying a pretty symphony made up entirely of his name.

October 31st. 2001.

It worked for a while.

In spite of the entire situation making your face burn, you couldn't say no to him, not when he looked at you with those pretty doe-eyes or when he called you his good little whore. Thus, Eddie watched as you masturbated for him every night. He would tell you when to cum and how to touch yourself. You'd be told how many fingers to use and watched as you fucked yourself open.

It worked—until it didn’t.

After days and weeks, it wasn't enough to just touch yourself. You wanted him to touch you, but that was entirely impossible. So you threw yourself into your work and your social life to distract your meloncholy heart. But each night, in the privacy of your apartment, you belonged entirely to him. You worked a double shift today in preparation for Halloween. Eddie hadn't said anything when you'd come home exhausted. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep like the dead.

And that was exactly what you'd done.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you knew you weren’t awake yet—you were floating on clouds in that blissful in-between. It was 3:15 a.m. in the morning, and you vaguely recognised the blurry red outline of the didgital clock on the bedside table. The witching hour on All Hallows' Eve.

It was only the sudden, sharp zing of pleasure that woke you.

You cried out. Your voice was hoarse, and your vocal cords were thick with a myriad of emotions: sleep, confusion, panic, and sudden desperation. Reality finally dawned upon you as honey-sweet pleasure swept through your limbs, making them feel heavy and sluggish even as you grabbed a handful of the thick mop curls between your spread thighs.

You bucked your hips without intention, pushing his face deeper between your sticky folds until he grabbed your waist and pinned you to the mattress. When he pulled back and wrapped his wet lips around your throbbing clit, you could feel him smiling. A deep hum rumbled through his vocal cords and vibrated through your core until you were moaning outloud, your back in a perfect arch as red-hot lightening sizzled through your veins.

"E-Eddie?"

The panic in your voice finally encouraged him to lift his head. His doe-eyes were blown wide with lust, almost entirely black. You saw the way his chin dripped with a mixture of his saliva and your slick; he was a vision of exctasy that made your brain short circuit. This wasn't possible—it literally wasn't possible. But it was real. You felt the weight of his hands on your waist, the way his fingertips dug into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, and the way his weight dipped into the mattress.

"Was wondering when you'd wake up, sweets," he mumbled, his breath hot against your mound. Your thighs trembled and squeezed around his head when he dipped his head to lick from your quivering hole to your clit, lapping at the slick that practically leaked from you. There was a part of you screaming, wanting to rage and be angry at him for doing something like this while you were sleeping. There was also a part of you that wanted to be as distraught now as you had been the day you found him sniffing your panties.

Both parts were quiet, making room for the horny, touch-starved part of yourself to come to the surface. Your nails scratched his scalp when you tugged hard on his hair. Eddie tightened his hold on your waist to stop your impatient squirming as he kitten-licked your folds. You were already embarrassingly close, and he knew. It was obvious from the way you were squeezing your thights around his head until his hearing muffled and how you squirmed and wriggled as the pressure in your belly built.

You made this sound—a little gasp of pleasure—that sent arousal rocketing through his veins and straight to his cock when he pushed two fingers into your tight pussy. His fingers were thicker than yours, larger and longer, reaching deep and rubbing against all of your nerves. You came without warning, slick walls clamping rightly around his thrusting fingers as the world shattered around you into sweet oblivion. Eddie kept his lips wrapped around your little nub, sucking and flicking his tongue against it as crystal shards of pleasure shot through her entire being. It felt like a bolt of white-hot lightning had struck your soul and set her world ablaze.

When you sagged against the mattress, Eddie climbed the length of your body, his lips leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses from your clit and up your belly, through the valley of your tits, until you were tasing yourself on his tongue. You touched him for the first time with shaking hands, feeling his skin against your palms, tracing the outline of each tattoo, and feeling how his muscles shifted and tensed beneath his skin as he settled between your thighs.

He was real; he was here, and he was yours.

As Eddie rubbed his cock against your sticky folds to get himself slick and lubricated, he groaned into your mouth. The flushed tip nudged your clit, causing you to gasp and arch beneath him. "Eddie," you moaned softly, your entire body burning and your eyes pleading for more.

"Say it." He growled. His breath was hot on your neck as he smeared open-mouth kisses along the column of your throat. He already knew what you wanted, but he wanted you to say it. He had to hear you say it. When you bucked up against him, desperate to feel him fill you or for friction of any kind, he pinned your hips down, refusing to give into your demands.

"Eddie," you whined. "Eddie, please, please, fuck me—ah!"

The stretch as he pushed inside was intense and immediate, more so than anything you'd ever felt. But it wasn't painful. No, it was deliciously mind-numbing. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders as you threw your head back. Your lips parted in breathless cries when he bottomed out, filling you so completely. The two of you have never talked about this moment, his size, or what to expect when having sex. Mostly because neither of you had expected this to ever happen.

Now that he was between your legs, holding them open with heavy palms, you knew that he was big—bigger than Michael and your other ex's. Eddie watched the way your lips clung to him as he pulled back, leaving only the crown of his cock nestled in your tight walls, and he moaned as you sucked in each inch of him when he snapped his hips forward. It felt like he was carving his way into your guts, rearranging your organs, or hitting the back of your throat. Maybe that was over dramatic; you were cock-drunk and delusional already. Maybe it was just the intensity with which you wanted him to act that made you irrational.

All that you knew for certain was that he was here, and he was fucking you, and you never wanted him to stop. You were crying, the tears having finally fallen, and you couldn’t stop shaking as lava pooled in your stomach. Eddie grabbed you by the chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing into your cheeks, so that you were pouting when he kissed her again. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."

Your eyes snapped open. When did you close them? You didn't know.

"This is what you needed, huh? You just needed a cock inside you—someone to fuck the attitude out of you. You're just a cockwhore, aren't you, baby?" His voice was rough as he growled the words through his teeth. He was hovering over you, hands on the mattress either side of your head, trapping you in the shelter of his body. You cried out when he made a particularly deep thrust; his aim never faltered. He found that spot that made galaxies come to life and made your thighs tremble around his slim waist.

"Answer me!" He repeated it louder this time.

"Yes!" You wailed. You felt racked with pleasure when he put a hand on your tit, palming it roughly and pinching your nipple to bring your attention to him. "Yes, yes, I'm a whore, just a cockwhore—of god, right there, right there."

"Whose whore?"

"Eddie, Eddie, please, need to cum—"

"You wanna cum?"

"Yes, yes, please." He was holding you at the edge of the world, leaving you staring into the abyss. You were buzzing with excitement, entirely ready and willing to take a leap of faith with him. You needed to free-fall; you needed to float through the clouds, and he wasn't letting you. Not yet. Not until you gave him what he wanted.

"Then tell me whose whore you are."

"Yours! Your whore! Just yours!"

Now that you'd given him what he wanted, he fucked you harder, impossibly so. The sound of his pelvis hitting the backs of your thighs was a constant smack, smack, smack. The headboard hit the wall with a resounding thud, thud, thud. The neighbours would surely complain, but you don't care because he's going to break you, ruin you, and wreck you.

The knot in your stomach unrolled quickly and all at once. A fresh wave of rapture raced through you like lightening arching through your veins, leaving you staring at the roof with wide-open eyes that took in nothing that they saw. Your back bowed into a perfect arch as you came harder than you thought was ever possible—even harder than you had the first time he'd watched you touch yourself.

Eddie buried his face against your neck, his abdomen dipping in and out as he chased his own release, his breath superheated against your skin while he panted. He was lost in you—the smell of your shampoo, the taste of your chapstick—utterly and hopelessly lost. Eddie came only a moment later, long and hard, painting thick ivory ropes along your quivering walls.

"So fucking good, baby. Pussy was made for me." He rambled between kisses, licks, and bites along your neck. Your nails scratched down his back as you preened beneath his praise, your mind somewhere in the clouds, no higher, in the thermosphere. "You're squeezing me like a damn vice. Fuck, you're perfect. I would burn the world for you. You're mine, aren't you, baby? My desperate whore. All mine."

Eddie kept you pinned to the mattress, legs still thrown over his shoulders as he huddled over you, almost folding you in half. He grabbed you roughly by the chin, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were unfocused, and your face was streaked with tears. He felt your pussy still fluttering around his softening cock as you rode the coattails of your orgasm, each aftershock making you twitch and shake. He kissed you hard until you were breathless. You mewled into his mouth and pawed at him.

And you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were his.