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from-izzy · 5 months

Text

[01:34] | nct na jaemin

Your ceiling fell.

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » boyfriend na jaemin who picks you up even though he's tired, summer is annoying to the reader (sorry, i'm really hating summer rn), fluffy fluff with a tinge of angst, clothes stealer reader!, but you never end up using it because you got too tired and fell asleep, i love na jaemin (can you tell?), reader is the little spoon, jaemin is so caring and cute (i'm in love with him), jaemin brushing his hand through your hair

word count, estimated reading time » 2496, ~9 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » jaemin is taller, outside clothes on the bed (i don't do this but it's cute here 😭 forgive me), oh...it's not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

recently went back to my wips and found bits and pieces that could work together and meshed them together as best as i can 🤣 just whipped up this little thing whilst i was at it hehe

also, not going to be specific but will you believe if i said that this is based on a (my) true story? 🤠 it's been...messy 🤠 to say the least.

thank you for proofreading (when you're supposed to be focusing on school) @cupidjyu !! 💕

Your ceiling fell.

Well...

To be exact, there isn't a hole that lets the spiders and birds able to look down and see the base of your kitchen sink but when the inside surface of the roof fell, so did the insulator that kept the house warm during the frosty winter, and cool in the scorching summer. Because of the unstable roof condition, your whole family was wary of putting the air conditioning system on. The vibration from the machine and the sound waves themselves may be the little push it needs to send other parts of the roof crumbling.

You hate the hot weather so much.

In this period of the summer, when opening the windows was barely an option as it also let the heat through, it has been hard even to do anything remotely productive. With every move of your body, it generates heat and energy, which when mixed with the thirty-five-degree heat, all you want to do is lay on your bed and let the sweat evaporate off your skin with the help of your tower fan. That's how the mornings would go. Sometimes when you're not too tired from the previous day's work, you would go and take shelter in the library, turning confused heads when you would be wearing a jacket as overtime, it became too cold.

The worst thing is that there has been no word from the insurance company or the people who could help to fix the hole in your ceiling. Unfortunately, it did fall during the peak holiday season but at this point, when it’s no longer the festive season, no one in your family understands what’s going on with the back-and-forth messy conversations to fix the issue.

The past three months have been full of frustrating calls to your boyfriend but Jaemin has been picking up your phone call at the second time his ringtone rings, greeting you with that emphasising smile of his as he sees the layer of moisture on your face. At first, you tried to give him the best smile you could, but you eventually broke down after the first month, completely done with changing your clothes every day in every hour. Jaemin, though busy with his own responsibilities, never fails to take you out whenever he can, accompanying you in your aimless night time walks or accompanying you to the library where he would start reading a random book while you snooze on his shoulder.

Today is one of the nights where you can’t handle sleeping in the house, too hot and uncomfortable for your eyes to even think about closing. You guiltily text Jaemin, asking if he’s able to have you over and within a few minutes, the black-haired arrives at your house, air conditioner blasting in his car and a genuine smile greeting you as soon as you step in. He waits outside his car with his oversized shirt and short pants; his usual summer attire. He kisses your frown away as soon as you rush into his arms, dropping your bag of clothes to the floor. His affectionate gaze for you grows, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hush you from the apologies that you would say for going out so late at night even though you insisted that the five-minute walk was fine to do.

“No,” Jaemin juts his lower lip to you adorably. “Not letting you do that!” He presses another quick peck on your lips that makes your cheeks heat up and makes you a stuttering mess. “I’m hungry! Let’s go grab some food first!”

You let out a knowing chuckle, shaking your head at him fondly as you know that just means another movie night that will go on until five am. To Jaemin, this is the best kind of date: the one that is unplanned but is planned at the same time. With the way that you’re literally having the worst summer ever as well, all he wants to do is to make sure that at least when you look back on this summer, you will remember his air conditioner blasting in his room. Bonus, the later you sleep, the more time you’ll have in a cooled, comfortable and private environment.

But you know deep down, that you will always remember his warm, kind heart first out of all.

With hands full of takeout from the nearest fast food to his house, Jaemin talks you through his list of movies that he wants to check out before you both fall asleep. He was so excited that he nearly missed the step up to his room, almost waking up the whole house with how his body would tumble down the staircase otherwise. But oh how much he would if it meant that you wouldn’t be crying on the humid, summer night.

"It's perfect, Jaem."

You comment when Jaemin asks you about the temperature of his room and he gives you a relieved look, smiling in satisfaction to know your thoughts. Jaemin starts to unload the snacks in his arm on his study table, prompting you to do the same. He turns his sleeping laptop on, waiting for his device to start up.

In the meantime, his attention falls on you once more. "You must've been overwhelmed." His arm spreads open, silently asking if you would accept his gesture.

All you gave was a quiet hum and it momentarily worries him before you step to bury your head into his broad chest. You sigh into his perfect body temperature that balances the coolness trapped in the four walls. The corners of Jaemin’s lips rise as he starts shifting his body side to side, giving the hug a little more dynamic and comfort as he starts to sing your favourite tune to your ears. His fingers rake across your hair, not minding the whines and complaints you gave about how your hair is disgusting and oily, even pressing a kiss to your scalp to ease your worries.

Your arms start to find home around his waist and your palm grips the fabric of the shirt even more, feeling eternally thankful for having a loving person in your life. A mutter, “Thank you for all this.” Your voice trails off, eyelids heavy and honestly, quiet snores could leave your lips at any moment now.

“Always, bubs,” he muses back. “Maybe we can skip the movie night today?”

The suggestion pulls your lips into a sour smile but you can’t hide the drowsiness in your system after getting small hours of sleep for the past week. “We have food.” But truly, it’s nothing that food can’t fix.

A raised eyebrow meets you when you slightly pull back to see the reaction on Jaemin’s face. “Food and horror movies.”

The shared favourite genre makes you break out into a genuine smile, excited for the movie marathon cuddled up in his bedsheets and the smell of food as you both expose yourself to the light from the computer until the sun replaces the moon. Jaemin watches you excitedly walk back to the door of his room where your bag slumps over on the wall next to the frame.

“You don’t want to wear mine?” The suggestion is said with a smirk from him and your hands stopping to unzip your bag halfway. “Guess not!”

“No! I do!” You drag the last syllable out and when you turn to face him once more, Jaemin only lets out a teasing smile. “Let me steal!”

Indeed, Jaemin already has everything prepared for you, tilting his chin to his bed where some of his and your favourite hoodies are spread across the duvet. You spot the emerald green one, immediately jumping from your kneeling position on the floor and making the neat pile topple over at your eagerness.

Jaemin feigns fake offence and an exaggerated gasp, “All my hard work!” He weeps to which you just roll your eyes as a response, continuing to take out your shower and night necessities to prepare for the night.

“Alright.” A heavy sigh follows after, “I’m going to sho—”

But before you could take another step towards the bathroom, a pair of arms pulls you backwards, your back colliding with a chest that you know all too well. You can’t see the expression on his face but another thing that you know about Jaemin is when he leans down to press his cheek on yours, humming once more into your embrace, his cheeks are painted with hues of red and pink—his love for you overflowing from the simple back hug gesture.

“What you doing, Nana?” It deepens his blush, melting with how the nickname naturally sounds lovelier coming from you.

“Just go brush your teeth and shower in the morning.” He mumbles against your cheek. “I want to go on this movie marathon with you right now.”

“But you hate it the most when someone lays on your bed without washing up.”

That’s also true. He does hate that a lot.

The idea of outside germs reaching the place where he would be closing his eyes and be in another space for hours never fails to bring a scowl to his face and he always makes sure everyone who visits his space is aware of that fact.

But it’s you—and Jaemin loves you more to overlook that fact for a day.

“I’m planning on changing the sheets anyway.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “Plus, I literally get grease and pieces of chocolate on there anyways so I think I may need to change my mindset about that rule now…”

The mention of the substances makes you gasp, a similar one to the one he directed at you before. “Na Jaemin!” The playful slap on his arm only makes his hold against your body tighter, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

Amid the chaos you created, Jaemin makes his point clear with the previous topic, throwing himself still clad in his dirty clothes onto his bed and taking you down with him. You yelp at the sudden fall, throwing everything out of your hands to muffle the sound of your mouth, aware of the sleeping couple not too far away from this room.

“Oops! Gotta change it tomorrow, I guess!”

“Na Jaemin, stop! I’m still going to shower anyway!”

So begins the shoving and wiggling for you to escape his strong grip on his bulky arms. You know shortly after running out of breath that it’s a better choice to rest your head on his pectoral, giving up on both the shower and possibly the movie night. The laughter dies down, but never the love that Jaemin shows for you. On the back of your head, you can feel his thumping heartbeat, the rhythm making your eyelids fall naturally.

Jaemin carefully slides you over to the mattress on his side, turning his body to face the girl he loves the most in this world. His eyelashes flutter quietly, quieter than the humming of the white rectangular machine stuck high onto his wall. He doesn’t bother waking you up, content with the tiny snores you let out through the small gap between your lips.

“And to think you were scolding me minutes ago.” Bopping your ice-cold nose with the pad of his pointer finger. “Okay, at this point you’re going to freeze.”

Though exhausted and body screaming to just fall asleep then and there, Jaemin pulls himself back to the edge of the bed, standing and stretching his four limbs. He quickly retreated to the connecting bathroom, picking up your discarded items that he made you toss to avoid his parents from waking up and scolding the young couple in love—though he knows they will just scold him given how much his parents adore everything about you.

Scared that you would soon wake up in the very uncomfortable posture that you have right now, more than half your feet dangling off the bed, Jaemin swiftly completes his night routine, skipping the one that would make his dentist question his habits but he pushed the thought aside for now. As quiet as he could, he makes his way over to your still peaceful figure. His knees sink into the bed, eyes observing you while he holds his breath to avoid any more unnecessary movements than the ones he’s making right now.

An arm lifts your upper body, and Jaemin quickly jumps behind you. You did stir a bit in your sleep when Jaemin undoes the noisy metal zipper of your jacket but nonetheless, he succeeded without bringing you back into full consciousness. In his head, he imagines himself doing a little celebratory dance under the shining disco ball, all the fluorescent light on him on the dance floor. Then, the same arm is placed on your upper back once more but now paired with his other arm tucked under the back of your knees. You quickly adjusted to the position, Jaemin raising your body high enough for you to relish in the remnants of his cologne on the crook of his neck.

“I love you, Nana.” You confess to him earnestly. “I love you so much…”

Jaemin stands on one side of the bed, scanning the curves of your face intently as if he has never noticed the small mole on the slope of your nose. He couldn’t fight off the want to steal another kiss from you, bending his neck down to slot his soft ones to hug your plump ones. A satisfied hum is brought out after, Jaemin mirroring your content heart with another lingering press on your forehead.

Soon enough, your body is finally between his bouncy mattress and his weighted polyester. Immediately, your hands roam over to the other side of the bed where Jaemin would usually be, groaning when all you felt was the crinkles of the cotton that is not his shirt.

“Okay, okay. I’m here.” He assures the dissatisfaction painted on your face first by flicking the light switch off and then by wrapping your smaller frame into his own.

The muscles of your whole body relax for the first time in a while at the thought of going to dreamland—maybe it’s the Jaemin effect. A hand makes its way to the curve of your head, fingertips half-buried into your strands. A slight gush of wind can be felt on your nose but you don’t mind the proximity, even continuing to scoot even closer, pleased with the hand on your lower back that pushes you in closer.

“Sleep tight.” His eyes landed on the brown bag across the room and his muted laptop that plays your favourite comfort movie. He lets the movie play, strategically moving his forearm to block the blue light emitted. When he confirms that his shadow falls upon your lids, he places the lightest kiss as a final ‘goodnight’. “I love you.”

So maybe, you don’t hate the hot weather as much as you thought.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

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remembrancersticky · 2 months

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I had a shower epiphany a few weeks ago and have just been working on cranking out this oneshot. Oh, I had so much fun with this. Thanks to @squishyowl for the dividers! They are very pretty!

You get dragged along for a fishing trip, scent a space wolf, and he carves your name onto his (metaphorical?) heart. Fenrysian is just Norwegian here for the sake of simplicity. Very fluffy given this is 40k. TW for hunting, non-sexual nudity, and cannon-typical violence. Asmundr art here and here.

Space Wolf OC(Asmundr) x Serf!Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.8k Words

The world of Silġ was not the coldest you had ever been to. But it was still the thickest part of winter on this side of the planet, and you could feel the moisture of your breath catch and freeze against your eyelashes when the wind shifted.

You waddled behind the three wolves you served today, waylaid by the heaviest furs and boots you owned and the sled-cart you pulled along behind you. The blizzard that had raged for the last month ended a few days ago, though the warp storm that trapped your ship here had not. The sky still sputtered out a sporadic scattering of snow, powdering the dense ice on which you tread.

The three in front of you wore no more than training armor and pelt. You were envious of their enhanced thermo-regulation as you flexed your fingers to stave off the chill that had seeped through your thick mittens.

“Here,” the venerable veteran, Ægir, announced, stabbing his chainsword into the ice.

You slowed as you caught up to the group and looked about. You were the only thing besides flat ice for several kilometers in any direction.

“Finally!”

The youngest, Asmundr, was not known to keep his opinions to himself at the best of times. He was brash and stubborn in every aspect of his life. He was the one that insisted you join them on this venture.

The company and ship’s crew were trapped on Silġ until the warp storm passed. You had already been stuck more than several weeks and many of the younger warriors were antsy for activity beyond their regular training. And, while rations were not depleted, it did no harm to secure supplementary provisions while they were available. Ergo, the Wolf Lord had allowed the formation of a few small hunting parties.

While you assisted the entire pack as your services were needed, Asmundr had all but named you as his personal serf. Not that he had asked anyone in particular, nor would he ever be granted a personal serf given his rank and status if he had. He was simply dogged in requesting your time, specifically. Not that you minded spending so much time with him; he had grown on you quite a bit, and you enjoyed the stories he would regale you with as you cared for his armor.

And so, here you were. Accompanying the small expedition on their fishing trip. You had given up on getting an explanation for exactly what you were meant to do beyond ferry equipment or attend to whatever unfavorable task may arise. Frankly, it was simply a nice change of pace from the monotony of the last few weeks, nice to be away from the stagnant air of the ship, and you were thankful to have been allowed to attend.

Hodr swiped his boot along the ground to disturb the thick layers of snow and reveal the solid ice beneath. Though not as old as Ægir, the scars upon his face told a story of numerous battles fought with unfettered ferocity. He was cold, stoic, but on occasion you glimpsed something wild lurking deep within his eye.

After stomping solidly on the ice without so much as a crack, Hodr gave a nod to Ægir, who activated his chainsword.

Still stuck in the ice, the blade began throwing up shards of ice and compact snow. You turned slightly and covered your face with a mitten to prevent anything from lodging in your eyes. You felt the pitter patter of debris against your form suddenly disappear. Looking up, it seemed Asmundr unthinkingly shifted his position to effectively shield you from the onslaught.

“Mortal,” Hodr called, as the roar of the sword died down. “Bring the pick and shovel.”

You pulled the tools from the sled and made your way to the hole-in-progress. In order to support the weight of three space marines (and especially the earlier stomping), the ice was undoubtedly thick. This pass with the chainsword had not even been close to reaching the water below. Hodr reached down to grapple with the large slab of ice that had been cut away while you worked on extricating the smaller shards. Once the site was cleared, Asmundr gently pulled you a step back as Ægir began his next series of cuts. This process repeated three times before a sufficient opening was formed.

Standing, you wiped the snow off of your knees and pushed the ice shards nearest the opening away with your boot. Suddenly, you felt something thick and heavy land across your back and weigh down on your shoulders. You were almost embarrassed about the surprised yelp you let out, but it was worth it to hear the youngest of the wolves let out a full bellied laugh.

“I trust you to keep this warm for me, vennen min!” Asmundr’s voice bounced with mirth behind you. You rearranged the large pelt he had thrown on you as you turned to face him. And quickly decided to look anywhere else as he undressed to the fullest extent possible.

“O-Of course, my lord.” You elected to keep your head pointed towards the sky as you extended your hands to take the remainder of his clothes. You could clearly hear the other two wolves snickering behind the sound of blood rushing through your ears. It did not seem nearly as cold out as it did just a few minutes ago.

Asmundr placed the wad of clothes in your hands with a smirk before leaning into the sled to fetch his polespear.

“Be ready, brother,” Ægir said as he nudged Hodr bodily. “You’ll have to make up the pup’s slack.”

The young pup bristled in agitation before he sharply pivoted on his brothers with a note of forced laughter. Coincidentally, you suddenly received a full view of all his glory.

“Ha! Afraid you’re not gonna be able to keep up, old man?”

You forced your eyes not to wander below his ribs, which was very difficult as he stood with his chest puffed out and fists confidently resting on his hips. Your face felt so hot that you thought the ice would melt under your feet and swallow you whole.

Despite your years in service to the Vlka Fenryka, you doubted that you’d ever understand just how…comfortable they seemed to be in their plain skin. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact they were Astartes, specifically. You’d imagine it would be difficult to feel vulnerable in any state with the physique of one of the Emperor’s Angels.

“Worried that you’ll drive the best game away in your haste.” Hodr’s voice sounded suddenly closer than you anticipated. Your heart jumped when you felt his hand reach around from behind you, lifting your chin to look Asmundr in the eyes and gently squishing your cheeks together. “It just won’t do if there isn’t enough to go around.” The narrowing of the younger wolf’s pupils was almost hidden by the steam billowing from his flared nostrils. “We can’t have thralls of skin and bone.” His whisper tickled your ear, sending a shiver shooting up your spine.

“I do not leave her wanting,” Asmundr snarled, closing the distance and gripping Hodr’s wrist tightly. You could hear something creak beneath your chin, but the grip on your face never tightened.

“Prove it.” You could hear Hodr’s grin as he finally released you.

Oh, something in Asmundr’s eyes sparked as he threw his brother’s hand away. He spared you a brief glance as he squared his shoulders and quickly cracked his neck.

“Time me!” Asmundr yelled back to Ægir as he raced to the opening and jumped into the abyss.

The air was pregnant with silence for a moment.

“Well,” Ægir laughed, rough and gravelly, “He should be plenty motivated now!”

Ten minutes. It had already been ten minutes.

A space marine could hold his breath for approximately twenty-five minutes, or so you’d been told.

You had heard from one of the company’s Kaerls that she had once heard a story of a chapter that regularly held their breath for the better part of a standard hour. You thought it sounded a bit outlandish, but you prayed now it was true as the minutes continued ticking on.

The first several minutes were spent in a bit of an awkward silence. Or, at least, you felt it was awkward. You busied yourself by meticulously folding Asmundr’s clothes and running an inventory of the little equipment in the sled before cleaning the hole of any lingering debris. You noted that Hodr’s gaze seemed to return the distant tree line frequently while Ægir whittled away on a piece of bone.

“It’s been ten minutes.” The booming voice of the veteran seemed to rattle through your chest, and you nearly lost your footing at the sudden announcement.

The undignified sound you made as you recovered your stance drew a chuckle from the eldest wolf.

“I’m curious,” Ægir said, pointing his knife in your direction. “What do you suppose the pup’s hunting for right now?”

You stared blankly at him.

“Fish, my lord?”

That veteran laughed, tried to control himself, and began laughing some more before he started coughing.

“You’re not wrong, thrall,” he conceded. You watched a flock of dark birds chitter and flee their roost in the distance. So far away they were like a smear against the sky.

“You know,” he started back up, dropping his gaze to return to the bone figure he was making. “I was out on campaign with the pup.” A thin flake fell away from his hands. “And it was fierce, to be sure. Well, while we were holed up in some throne-forsaken pit, the daft boy starts singing. Badly, mind you, and quiet, but singing nonetheless. And so, I ask him ‘Boy, what do you think you’re doing?’” Ægir looked up and you realized that you’d thoughtlessly drifted closer as the veteran continued. “And do you know what he tells me?”

“No, my lord.”

“He says, ‘Well, that little serf sings this when she’s in the armory, and I thought maybe it would help me focus.’” Another flake fell from his hand as he scoffs, “Focus, my missing big toe.”

Ægir looked like he was about to continue, loudly, but shut his mouth and looked past you a moment before you heard it.

A loud wet thwacking noise echoed across the empty plane and time seemed to pass slower than usual as you saw a vibrant, gleaming, blue fish that could rival the stature of terminator power armor surge out of the icy depths and caress the grey sky, before making its arched decent like an angry torpedo with needlepoint teeth.

You hadn’t survived this long in such a cruel galaxy without any wits at all, and ran to give the beast a wide berth upon its impact with the surface. Its furiously flailing body splashed little droplets of water against your form, which froze solid in the cold air.

“Ha! No wonder he likes you so much,” Ægir ribbed at you, as he seamlessly stabbed the wriggling thing through the back of its head, piercing whatever brain it could have. “You scurry about like ei lita kanin!”

The burning retort that had definitely been on the tip of your tongue was tragically cut short by a sudden series of muted vibrations that traveled up your legs. Something was hitting the ice…

Your feet were moving before you could think. What help could you realistically offer Asmundr from here? You could not dive into the freezing water, you could not drag him back to safety, you could not even pull his body up onto shore without dislocating your shoulder in the attempt. But you knelt stupidly by the hole anyways; you had to be as close to his side as possible, in case he needed you. Because you would do all those useless things if he so much as hesitated in telling you not to.

Not long after, the surface of the water began bursting with bubbles of air from the depths, bringing with them deep oily blood. You called out to him, as if he would be able to hear you meters away and underwater.

“Mundi! Are you okay?!”

Time seemed to drag on for an eternity as the bubbling died down and the water remained still.

You had just started to loosen the straps of your outermost layers to dive in yourself when a crimson streak began racing towards the surface. You could feel your heart fall back into place.

Asmundr’s red hair clung to his forehead and neck as he beamed at you in pride. Or, as best he could.

The spear he lifted out of the water held four native fish, each easily as long as your arm and thicker around than both of your thighs. A massive bony fish with pearlescent armor still wiggled in his maw, cracked where his fangs dug tightly into its flesh. He threw the spear up onto the ice before hefting his bulk out of the hole.

Sitting on the ledge of the ice beside you, he pulled the fish from his teeth. His smug smile showcased the gleaming red that clung to his canines and dripped down his chin. He glanced about briefly before his expression morphed into one of confusion.

“Where’s Hodr?”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left.

“Not far,” Ægir said. “He picked up a scent while you were out.”

“Are you okay, Mundi?” You had been keenly looking him over for any obvious injuries he may have sustained since he surfaced. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but maybe he just rammed the ice with his thick head. You stood up to get a better look. “It sounded like you hit the ice pretty hard.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t near the ice at all.” Rivulets of water trickled down Asmundr’s body, his core temperature just enough to keep the water from freezing against his skin in the cold air. “Are you sure you’re not the one that hit the ice?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by his teasing tone. You were just relieved that he was okay.

Asmundr’s gaze turned sharply from you to the horizon at a noise you could not hear.

“Finally done batting that pest around, Hodr?”

You turned towards Ægir’s call and watched as Hodr dragged along an enormous, white-feathered land-shark behind him.

“Six minutes,” the wolf bellowed, shaking the leg of his kill. “How long was the pup?”

“Thirteen minutes!”

Something rumbled deep in Asmundr’s chest at the veteran’s announcement and he huffed in irritation. If you hadn’t just been willing to throw yourself into the icy void after your companion out of shear worry, you would have found his pouting cute.

“Mundi,” you started softly as he plopped himself away from his brothers to work on his kills. He did not look up. He was still wet and bare and the wind was still so cold and you did not think you could handle the implausible thought of him catching a chill.

“Mundi, you need to dry off,” you chided as you unwrapped the outermost fur you wore from your waist. It would be warmer and drier than the one he placed on your shoulders, which had kept you plenty warm, but also collected a non-insignificant amount of flurries.

He grumbled something as he continued to work on dislodging his kills from the spear.

You pursed your lips before running the fur across his shoulders and up his neck, before tousling his hair the best you could. You left the fur draped across his shoulders, which he gripped closed across his chest with one hand. He remained incredibly tense before in-taking sharply and shaking his upper body vigorously. You did not escape the resulting splatter.

He tilted his head back to look you in the eyes, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you recognized amusement and joy in them.

“I’m keeping this!” Asmundr announced, sounding very pleased. “But you have to hold onto this,” he tugged slightly at the pelt that still engulfed the entirety of your upper body, “for me, in return.”

The request turned something in your chest.

“Of course,” you agreed, and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

He smiled up at you in turn, his eyes softening as his gaze lingered. In that moment, it felt as if something in the universe had clicked into place. After a few seconds, he abruptly looked back down and dragged the armored fish over to him.

“And,” he drew the word out for a long moment, as he began carving familiar runes into the pearlescent plating with his spear. “You need to make good use of this.” He passed you the fish barring your name, and you had to steel yourself to keep from tumbling under the weight of it.

#wh40k oc #warhammer 40k #space wolves #space wolf oc x reader #wh40k oc asmundr #asmundr x reader #space marine x reader #adeptus astartes #I feel like the emotions in this are a little bit all over the place but whatever man that's just how life is sometimes I guess #of course i had to include him shaking like a dog it's so in character for him #bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark #mr “i miss my wife” guy #mr “man i wish my wife was here to see how good i am at being a top predator too bad i can't take her into a war zone”#warhammer #stickywrites #warhammer x reader #and i can feel the space wolves love in this arby's tonight

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rahuratna · 3 months

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He's got the look

Part 1: Hitting like a Hammer

Content: crack, humour, fluff. Gojo being ... Gojo.

Satoru yawned as he bent at the waist, the top of his head coming into view in the bathroom mirror. He had always been one of those people. The ones who could wake up every morning, looking what some would call 'deliciously disshevelled'. Stray strands of silver fell forward softly over his forehead, the pure, crystalline eyes blinking slowly as he took himself in.

Satoru was fully aware of how attractive he appeared to others, physically speaking. While he didn't place much store by it, he did like looking his best, even if it was largely concealed under the blindfold. Eyes roving over the rippling muscle of his torso with a kind of satisfied disinterest, he sighed and was about to reach for his toothbrush, when something on his head caught his attention.

Were those ... split ends? And why was his hair looking distinctly duller in hue than normal? Considering his cursed technique, Satoru was seldom affected by environmental conditions. Winter was coming? No problem. It was particularly humid out that day? He'd still stroll along, unaffected, while people wilted around him like soggy paper towels. It was raining? Hello, built-in umbrella.

So, if there was an issue with his hair, it must be internal. Was he not getting enough of the necessary vitamins in his diet? Was all the sugar finally catching up with him? Unthinkable.

Still, something had to be done.

Contrary to how things seemed to others, Satoru worked exceptionally hard in his role as a sorcerer. Difficult missions didn't take quite so much time and effort when you were the self-proclaimed strongest. Thus, there was not much time to spoil himself.

Today, however, was a very rare, relaxed Sunday. He'd have to take action. There was only one person he trusted with his hair. Retrieving his phone from the counter, Gojo typed in a quick message and hummed slightly, applying moisturizer to his face as he waited for a reply.

"How? How can this be?"

"Er ... Gojo-sensei?"

"Yuuji! This is a disaster!"

"Whoa, whoa. What is?"

"My hair stylist! He's injured his back and won't be back for six whole months. What will I do? How will I survive? Am I supposed to rid the world of curses while my hair looks like this?"

"Uh ... yeah?"

"Wrong answer!"

Yuuji raised his hands, laughing slightly at the stricken expression of his teacher.

"Okay, okay. Hey, here's an idea. You know who has really nice hair?"

"Who?"

"Nanamin! His hair is always nicely cut and ... shiny? Maybe ask him who he goes to."

Satoru huffed.

"If I wanted a seven three parting and a cut so severe I'd look like I was about to serve fifteen years in the gulags, I'd go see his barber."

In his apartment in the city, relaxing in the living room with a cup of coffee in hand, Nanami sneezed violently. Unaware of this distant repercussion, Satoru was tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"There is a replacement in for my stylist, though. They said he was young, but talented."

"Oh? Why don't we go check it out then? If your previous stylist trusted him enough to take over, then he must be good, right? We can see him in action and you can decide if you trust him enough to do your hair!"

"Hmm. All right. I'll go for it, Yuuji!"

Now in a decidedly better mood, Satoru mimed finger guns at his student.

"Let's hoof it."

The hair studio was located in Harajuku, a twenty minute walk from where they exited the subway. The trendy boutiques that lined the street caught Yuuji's eye, and he knew that Nobara would have loved to have come here.

When they reached the studio, both teacher and student paused, taking in the shop front.

"Uhhh, was that always ... "

"Nope. This is new."

" ... Gojo-sensei, maybe we should just call Nanamin and - "

"Now, now, Yuuji. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Something Nanami has probably never said in his life."

"Hey! That's not very -"

Somewhere, in a neat cafe, Nanami burnt his tongue on his third cup of coffee for the day and uttered a soft 'fuck', before looking around to see if anyone had heard him.

Before Yuuji had a chance to defend the honour of his other mentor, Gojo had pushed open the door to the salon, whistling merrily. Pausing outside, Yuuji swallowed as a sensation of impending doom threatened to overtake him.

The facade that had been erected over the entryway was of a large and garish tornado, shaped into a classic pompadour, neon geometric shapes superimposed over it in what was clearly meant to be 'arty'. It reminded Yuuji of the anime he had been following religiously as a kid, Bobo's Bazaar Adventure. While he loved the show, he wasn't sure how effective it was in inspiring confidence as a hair studio. Shrugging slightly, he followed Gojo.

The interior was no less psychedelic. Assistants wearing bright pink rollerblades, clip-on angel wings and yellow overalls flew here and there, sweeping up fallen hair and delivering hot drinks while barely avoiding calamity. Hair stylists in chequered aprons snipped away at a frenetic pace, creating some of the most avant garde hairstyles Yuuji had ever seen. His eye was caught by a young woman with a purple up-do being shaped into a top hat and nearly collided with Gojo.

The moment Gojo entered, all eyes were drawn to him, of course. Today, the special grade sorcerer was wearing casual clothes, a dark jacket over a white t-shirt that clung to his very toned abdomen, fitted jeans in black that made his legs look like they'd been airbrushed in real life, and a pair of horrifically expensive sneakers. Gojo cheerfully saluted, tapping the side of his sunglasses that had probably cost more than Yuuji's entire education.

"Yo! I'm Gojo, Maurice's usual customer. I was told to come in today to see Hattori?"

The new receptionist dragged her eyes away from Gojo's pectorals with an audible gulp and hurriedly turned to her computer, her fingernails clacking swiftly over the keys as a burning crimson blush arced over her nose.

"J - Just a moment, sir. Er, ah, yes. Gojo Satoru, correct?"

"That's me!"

"He'll be right with you. Let me call him. I think he's just finished with a client."

Gojo surveyed the studio with interest from behind his shades.

"So he doesn't work out here on the floor?"

"Oh, no. He has a private room upstairs where his personal clients see him. Give me a moment."

She lifted a hot pink receiver and spoke in hushed tones into it. After a few minutes of waiting, she waved to the stairway behind her.

"Go on up. He's ready for you."

The room they entered was obviously supposed to be some sort of den of intense creativity. The matte grey walls were covered with modern art pieces in neon shades, humanoid figures distinguishable in the sinuous, branching tracks of colour. A giant window, forming a one-way looking glass, took up most of the outer wall, showcasing a stunning vista of the city below.

A single styling station, the mirror, chair and stands for various paraphernalia, stood alone and stark in the centre of the room, surrounded by the large fanning leaves of tropical plants. Flowers that Yuuji had never seen before provided bursts of colour where they hung from the ceiling in coconut mesh.

There was a woman, presumably the previous client, who was sitting before the mirror. Yuuji stared. Her hair was coiffed and curled in some kind of artistic representation of a rose, the layers tinted in colours ranging from dark crimson to the finest blush of the sky at dawn, creating a depth and dimensionality that anyone would be hard put to find in a painting, let alone on someone's hair.

The man standing behind her flitted about like a hummingbird at a flower, his slightly high-pitched voice rising and falling as he spoke a litany of encouragement to himself. Upon their entry, he hadn't even turned his head.

Gojo seemed content to stand and wait, so Yuuji cleared his throat slightly. Immediately, the stylist (who must be Hattori) froze and turned, a slightly crazed expression on his narrow, pinched features. Yuuji recoiled, but when Hattori's eyes moved across to Gojo, the change in the atmosphere of the room was palpable.

The stylist threw his scissors to one side, eyes opening wide, expression even more manic than before. The client who had been seated before him had to duck as the blades passed dangerously close to her face. Coming forward in a zig zag, as if pausing at different angles to take in Gojo completely, the man approached.

Close up, Yuuji could see that he didn't look in the best of health. His skin was dry and his lips cracked, the lines standing out at the corners of his eyes, even though he probably wasn't more than a few years older than Gojo. His bleached blonde hair bore the brittle look of many dye-jobs, and his fingernails were stained. He bore a striking contrast to the image projected in the rest of the studio.

Nevertheless, he was looking at Gojo like he was the Mona Lisa come to life. The lady seated at the mirror cleared her throat.

"Thank you Hattori, I'm - "

"Yes, yes, you're done now."

"Well, I just - "

"Speak to the front desk for the care routine." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand that left her gaping. "Now, who, who, who do we have here?"

"Gojo Satoru. I hear you've taken over from Maurice. I was a client of his for many years."

"Ahhh. Maurice, my dear mentor. Such a tragedy about his back injury. Can't even stay upright for longer than five minutes. Now, on to more important things, namely, you."

Hattori had now sidled right up to Gojo, his manic expression never toning down in intensity. The sorcerer in turn, regarded him with his usual good natured condescension. The woman with rose-like hair was now scurrying out of the room, scandalized. Yuuji watched her leave nervously. He didn't like being in this room. Everything just seemed weird and wrong.

"But ... I have to say... Maurice certainly kept you a closely guarded secret. Gojo, you say? No. No, I've never heard him speak that name. But look at you! You're... just ... a ... I have no words. Look at this shade of hair! Look at your jawline! Your facial structure! Superb. Superb. A true muse. Yes. A ... oh, this is .... wait. I must ... inspiration has struck!"

Scurrying over to the styling stand, Hattori withdrew a notebook and pencil from the drawer, flipping open the book and beginning to sketch as if his life depended on it, his hair standing slightly on end, as if it had a consciousness of its own. Gojo raised his hand.

"Can't I just request my usual? Maurice always - "

"Usual? Usual?"

Hattori almost dropped the book in his hand.

"Dearest Gojo, please, never, never use the word 'usual' to refer to anything regarding yourself again!"

Gojo rubbed the back of his head and grinned.

"I mean, yeah, I know I'm exceptional, but - "

"Not just exceptional!" There were tiny, red capillaries standing out in the whites of Hattori's eyes now. Yuuji crept a little closer to Gojo.

"No, exceptional is too bland a word. I can't believe that Maurice kept you from me."

Yuuji could think of several reasons.

"Now let's see. Yes, yes, that would be - come and have a seat! I'll get started!"

"But I haven't told you - "

"Forget everything you know! I am Hattori, and I am inspired by a muse above all others ... you! Gojo Satoru! I will do with your hair what nobody has ever attempted before!"

Yuuji cleared his throat, speaking loud enough for only Gojo to hear.

"Uh, sensei ... "

"I know. Relax, Yuuji. I'll handle this."

Gojo pulled out his phone and typed a quick message, before sauntering over to the styling station.

"All right then, Hattori. I place myself in your capable hands."

Hattori chose, at that moment, to finally glance over in Yuuji's direction. He froze, eyes opening to dimensions that defied the basics of human anatomy.

"Wait. What ... what is that?"

Gojo looked over, confused.

"Oh, that's my student. Itadori - "

"No! That! The colour!"

Hattori was positively shrieking by now, and Yuuji laughed nervously, backing away.

"Uh, are you talking about my hair colour?"

"Yes! What kind of... of ... monstrosity is this? Salmon pink? In that single shade? No highlights? What were you thinking, boy?"

"What do you mean? This is my natural colour?"

Hattori laughed, tears of rather demented mirth gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Natural? What are you? Some kind of anime character?"

Gojo sighed.

"Oi, oi, oi. I'll trouble you not to pick on my precious student. What's he got to do with my hair anyway? Isn't that what we're here for?"

"He needs to go! He's going to taint the whole process with his presence!"

Gojo's cheerful demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. His smile disappeared and in its place was a kind of terrifying calm that made the room grow slightly colder. Hattori looked over at him and quailed.

"Uh, but if, as you say, he is your student, then I can ... make an exception for a favoured client such as yourself."

As the stylist scurried over to Gojo, Yuuji let out a soft breath as he mentally confirmed his suspicions. Unlike a regular person, Hattori had only reacted to Gojo's ire when there had been a change in his cursed energy signature. Hattori was certainly aware that Gojo was a sorcerer. And the hair stylist himself... was not all he seemed on the surface.

Certainly, there was no immediate danger to someone as powerful as Gojo. But Hattori looked unhinged enough to try almost anything. Yuuji kept his eyes on the erratic movements of the man as he darted here and there around Gojo, hands reaching out like the darting tendrils of a sea anemone as he touched and caressed Gojo's hair.

Creepy.

But Yuuji would have his sensei's back, even if his own strength was not needed.

As if sensing his serious mood, Gojo glanced over at him while Hattori whipped out a black bib and tied it around the sorcerer's neck with a flourish.

"Hey Yuuji, why the long face? I guess I'll have an exciting style soon. Something Nanami's never had in his life."

"Oh come on, sensei, you don't know that."

"I do. He was my underclassmen, remember?"

"Well ... what if he had something exciting while he was a salaryman?"

There was silence in the room for a while. Yuuji sighed.

"Okay. You win this one."

Nanami kept his eyes on the woman with rose-coloured hair, following her from a discreet distance. His plain jeans and sweater were helping him blend seamlessly into the crowd, along with the newspaper clutched in his hand and the fifth cup of coffee for the day. He really needed to cut back.

He was a little grumpy, to be honest. Here he was, enjoying his peaceful day at a cafe, when Gojo had messaged, asking him to investigate possible curse activity related to a woman with distinct rose-styled hair, somewhere near a salon in Harajuku. Nanami had hurried to the predicted co-ordinates and managed to spot the woman in question right before she boarded the subway.

It wasn't hard to determine who Gojo had been talking about. Besides the ... really spectacular hairstyle she sported, there was a horrific amount of cursed energy whirling about her frame, concentrated around her hair.

Nanami suddenly felt that same unbearable itch in his nose from earlier in the day and sneezed heavily, whipping out his handkerchief.

Why did this keep happening? Was he coming down with something?

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hippiegoth97 · 2 months

Text

Wild and Untamed Things: Steddie x Reader Pt.3

Collage by me :)

Part 1 Part 2

Master List

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Description: You come home to Steve and Eddie after a long day at work. They cook you your favorite meal, and Eddie has a special surprise to commemorate the year and some change that you've been together. Afterwards, you have some extra special fun with the two of them in the bedroom...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: female reader, Bisexual!Steve Harrington, Bisexual!Eddie Munson, swearing, smut, smoking, threesome activities, LGBTQ+ references, polyamorous relationship, bondage, fingering, oral sex, sex toys, squirting, voyeurism/exhibitionism, anal sex (male and female receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, double penetration, choking, dirty talk, spanking, praise/degradation, fluff, light crying

Word Count: 11.9k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Wild and Untamed Things Pt. 3

"Oh, boys! I'm home!" You call out into your apartment after returning home from a long shift at the diner. You can hear AC/DC playing in the kitchen, Eddie and Steve must be working on dinner. You put your purse and keys down, slipping off your winter jacket to put on the hook beside the door. You step out of your shoes, and skip down the hall to meet them. "What's cookin', good lookin'?" You quip as you enter the room where your handsome men have been waiting for you.

"We're making your favorite, sweetheart. How was work?" Eddie asks, turning his head to look at you from the stove. He's wearing your frilly apron over his pajamas, flannel pants and a black tank top. His hair is up in a messy ponytail to keep it out of his face while he works. He stirs chunks of chicken in his special zesty sauce across a large pan, and the aroma of lime, cumin and honey hits your nostrils immediately.

"Ooh, chicken burritos? We haven't had those in ages!" You squeal, rushing over to him to plant grateful kisses all over his neck. "And to answer your question, work was long, and boring, and all I could think about was comin' home to my loves." You say sweetly against his skin, looking over to see Steve cutting fresh veggies at the kitchen table. He's also in rather relaxed fashion, gray sweatpants, his wire-rimmed glasses, but no shirt. He can never resist the opportunity to show off his beautiful body. "Hey there, Stevie. Need some help?" You offer, noticing moisture forming in his eyes from cutting up a red onion.

He meets your gaze with a smile, shaking his head. "No, babygirl. You've worked more than enough for today, we've got this handled." He scrapes the diced onion into a small bowl, moving on to the tomatoes. "I could do with some kisses of my own, though." He adds, giving you his best puppy eyes.

"Anything for you, darling." You say, giving Eddie a light kiss on the lips before waltzing over to Steve. You take a seat on his lap, temporarily interrupting his work. He sets his knife down, putting his hands on your hips. "Someone's looking rather bookish today. How are you adjusting to the glasses, baby?" Steve recently needed to get some glasses when he realized he could barely see five feet in front of him without squinting. The doctor said he's been in need of vision aids for years, but no care was taken to really check until now. You and Eddie think he looks so good in them, but he can't help feeling like a total nerd.

"The headaches are getting better, and the world isn't a fishbowl anymore. I still hate them, though." He sighs, laying his head on your chest.

"I know you do, love. But like me and Eddie have said before, you need to listen to what the doctor tells you. Plus, you look very sexy in them." You gently lift his head to give him a smoldering kiss, reaching around to lace your fingers in his hair. You slip your tongue into his mouth, rolling against his languidly. Steve's hand squeezes your hip, and you can feel him growing beneath you. You moan into the kiss, noticing a certain pair of chocolate brown eyes staring at the two of you. You pull away, looking in Eddie's direction. "Everything alright, Eds?" You ask, your eyes flicking to his own erection forming a round imprint against his apron.

"Of course, princess. You're both just so damn beautiful." Eddie burns, still cooking the chicken all the while. He bites his lip at the image of you sitting in Steve's lap, wishing it wouldn't ruin dinner to join you at the table. "I do, however, need Harrington to finish chopping the vegetables. You wanna wait in the living room until we're done, angel?" He asks kindly, not meaning to push you out. He just wants this meal to be perfect, as he's got something very special planned tonight. Neither you or Steve know, but he's bought all of you rings to symbolize your love for each other. He knows you can't actually get married, but that won't stop the three of you from being happy together. And he wants to show you both how important this relationship is to him.

"Sure thing, hot stuff. I'll be waiting." You hop off of Steve's lap, the skirt of your uniform flouncing upwards as you do. The boys catch a glimpse of your lace panties, making them both mutter swears under their breath. You giggle at their reaction, and go to sit on the couch. You click on the TV, not really caring what's on. All you can think about is the mouthwatering food you're going to eat very soon. Eddie is an incredible cook, a bona-fide master in the kitchen. Everything he makes is better than anything else you've ever eaten. Home-cooked meals growing up, fancy restaurants, cooking for yourself. None of it compares to the magic he can make in that teeny tiny room in your small apartment.

Other than the food, though, you can't stop thinking about what's going to come after dinner. You imagine given the extra effort being put into the meal, the guys must have something special planned. To be fair, everything you do as a group is amazing, never a dull moment to be had there. But Eddie's insistence on letting them be tells you something is up. Usually when you shower the boys with after-work affection, the food falls to the wayside while you inevitably end up in a sweating pile of limbs on the kitchen floor.

"Fuck." You mumble to yourself, visualizing one of the more intense times you'd all gotten lost in one another while dinner burned to a crisp on the stove. You rub your thighs together at the thought, trying to relieve some of the warm pressure building between your legs. You pick up the loose pack of cigarettes from the coffee table, slipping one of the smokes into your mouth and lighting it. The three of you share an unrelenting nicotine addiction, which leads to open boxes of smokes spread throughout your apartment. This in turn has caused you to accumulate numerous thrifted ashtrays which adorn every table, nightstand, and countertop to accompany them. You take a deep, long drag into your lungs, letting the stress of the day melt away from your body. You lay your head over the top of the sofa, closing your eyes as you continue to smoke.

"Tough day?" Steve asks, leaning in the entryway of the room with his arms crossed. He's been sent by Eddie to fetch you for supper, but he notices you're looking a little tense. You don't typically rest your head over the back of the couch, smoking sluggishly like that, unless you've worked yourself ragged all day.

"A little. Tina's down with the flu, and Marge called out with a 'headache' again." You say while making quotations with your fingers. Marge is a notorious drunk, who is frequently too hung over to come to work. "So it was only me and Amelia all fuckin' day. Lunch was absolute hell, busloads of random kids on school trips and shit. I don't even know where they came from, but suddenly the diner was full of rowdy preteens." You vent about your day to Steve, who listens to every word intently. He comes over to sit next to you, and he carefully brushes a stray hair out of your face.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. That sounds awful. Is there anything I can do?" He asks sweetly, and you scoot closer to nuzzle your head into him.

"Nothing more than what you both already plan to do, babe. Is dinner ready yet?" You ask softly, twirling his chest hair with a finger on your free hand.

"Oh, yeah. That's what I meant to tell you when I came in." Steve replies with a light chuckle at his forgetfulness. "C'mon, let's go eat. I'm sure Eddie's getting lonely." He stands up from the couch, taking your hand. You get on your feet, and he leads you to walk ahead of him to the kitchen. After your first couple steps, he slaps your ass, hard. You yelp in surprise, making Steve's cock twitch in his pants. "Damn, I'll never get enough of you in that uniform, babygirl." Steve remarks as you both enter Eddie's presence again.

"I'd argue she looks even better out of it, Stevie." Eddie adds, setting your plates on the table.

"You've got a good point there, Eds." Steve smirks, walking over to the handsome metalhead to give him a light kiss before sitting down. You take your seat after doing the same, stubbing out your smoke in the ashtray in the center of the table.

The boys take their places, and you tuck into the amazing meal set before you. There's all the fixings, chicken, rice, tomatoes, onions, avocado, salsa, shredded cheese, the list goes on. You each take your time to assemble your burritos to your liking, rolling them up thick and full. You bring your perfectly wrapped bundle to your mouth, biting a large chunk out of it. The crisp, fresh flavors mix on your tongue, drawing a low moan from you. Steve and Eddie look over at you from the sound, catching your eyes rolling back into your head for a moment in satisfaction. "Enjoying yourself, princess?" Eddie asks with a smirk, winking at you when you meet his gaze.

"Mmhmm." You hum, still chewing on the massive bite you took. You rush yourself to swallow. "So fuckin' good, as always." You reach for the glass of wine Eddie had set out for you, taking a large sip.

"Glad to hear it, love. Now, eat up, you two. I've got a special present for us after dinner." You and Steve quirk your eyebrows at Eddie's statement, neither of you have any idea what he's talking about. But you're certainly intrigued, Eddie always gives the best gifts. You finish up your meal, making the usual small talk. You fill Eddie in on the things you previously vented to Steve about, and he gives you the same amount of care and attention that the other man had done so earlier. Steve clears the table once you're all done, putting the leftovers into the refrigerator and rinsing the dishes to wash later on.

You return to the living room as a trio now, and Eddie pulls out a small box from his pants pocket. You sit on the couch, the two men on either side of you, sitting as close to you as possible. "What have you got for us, babe?" Steve asks, eager to see what the little box contains.

Eddie takes a moment before speaking, looking at both of you so lovingly. You return the sentiment, unable to stop smiling. He clears his throat, exhaling shakily. It's a rare sight to see him so nervous, so this gift must mean a whole lot to him. "So, we've been together for a little over a year now. And being with you has been the greatest time of my life. I love you both so much, you mean everything to me. I know we can't...legally get married, but I wanted to get something that would at least symbolize our love for each other. So...I had these made." Eddie opens the black box, revealing three rings sitting in a plush, red cushion. They're thin, silver bands, with all of your initials engraved on the insides of them in elegant script. E+S+Y/I.

You're absolutely speechless, unable to come up with the words to express how happy you are at this moment. You love these guys with your whole heart, and you can't think of a better way to commemorate your beautiful bond. Eddie waits expectantly for what you and Steve think about his gift, growing slightly worried when you haven't said anything for a solid minute. A large smile spreads across your face, and you finally locate a response within your mind. "I love it, Eddie! This is so thoughtful, and sweet, it's perfect for us!" You exclaim happily, throwing your arms around his shoulders to give him a clumsy kiss.

"It's amazing, Eds. Really, it means a lot." Steve says from behind you. He never once thought he would find 'the one' after so many duds over the years. To have you two in his life, to love and cherish for all time is the highest privilege in his eyes. He realizes he might cry, this moment is just too damn perfect. You and Eddie pull away to look at him, finding his eyes are watering again. But it's definitely not the onions this time.

"Oh, Stevie. C'mere." Eddie coos, a couple tears of his own running down his stubbled cheeks. Their lips meet, leaving you in the middle to observe their affection. Your heart swells with unbridled adoration for the both of them, and you're looking forward to you all putting the rings on one another.

"God, I love you both more than anything in the world." You say as heat builds in your own eyes. You break up their kiss, wanting to have a turn with Steve. You keep it brief, though it would be very easy to melt into them and forget about everything else.

"We love you, too, sweetheart." Eddie and Steve say simultaneously once you've stopped locking lips. You giggle at their synchronized sentences, they do that quite a lot.

"You guys ready?" Eddie asks, and you and Steve nod in agreement. "Okay. So, I'll put Steve's ring on him. Then he'll put yours on you, Y/N. And you'll put mine on me. Sound good?" Eddie lays out the plan, making it so you all get to participate in a ritual you've seen in movies many times. The exchanging of rings, possibly the most important part of any formal wedding ceremony. Eddie takes the bands out, putting the corresponding one into each of your hands. "Alright, now I get that this might sound cheesy. But I had an idea of what we should say when we do this." Eddie blushes slightly, he finds this whole thing to be a little mushy himself.

"It's far from cheesy, Eds. It's very romantic, and meaningful." You reassure him, putting your hand on his thigh. "Go ahead, baby. We'll follow your lead." You say sweetly.

"Okay, um...Steve, give me your hand." He requests nervously, and Steve does as he is asked. Eddie looks deep into his eyes, and recites the small vow he's spent weeks working on. "Steve Harrington. With this ring, I promise to honor my commitment to you and Y/N, forever and always." Eddie slips the ring onto Steve's left hand, letting out a shaky breath as he holds back more tears. "There. Now you do the same for Y/N." He sniffs harshly, wiping his eyes.

Steve turns his body slightly to face you better. He gazes at you, and you extend your hand to accept the ring. "Y/F/N Y/L/N. With this ring, I promise to honor my commitment to you and Eddie, forever and always." He slips the band onto your finger, sending a wave of pure joy coursing through you. You admire the sliver of silver wrapped around your digit for a moment, feeling a contentment you never before thought to be possible.

"Okay, my turn now." You say with a smile, turning to Eddie. You take hold of his hand, removing the chunky ring that he always wears and setting it on the table. You look at him, ready to say the sincere words he's prepared for you all. "Eddie Munson. With this ring, I promise to honor my commitment to you and Steve, forever and always." You glide the thin metal along his finger, letting go of him once it's fully seated at his third knuckle. And with that, your devotion to this throuple has been made official. Well, as official as a union like this can be.

"So...what do we do now? Call each other 'husbands and wife'?" Steve asks curiously, though his phrasing makes it seem like he's joking.

"We can...if you guys want to. I know I'd like that." You say sheepishly, looking down at your lap as you feel a bit silly for requesting such a thing.

"Then that's what we'll do, my loves." Eddie replies, taking your hand and Steve's to hold. Your free hand clasps with Steve's, and you all sit here for a moment to take in what this means for you. "So, uh...you two wanna go 'consummate' our marriage now?" He asks with a filthy grin, drawing your face to be level with his. You and Steve nod in reply, standing up off the couch to head for the bedroom. "Steve? Can you bring one of the kitchen chairs to the bedroom, please?"

"Sure thing, babe. I'll be right behind you." Steve heads to the kitchen again, leaving you and Eddie alone on your trip to bed. You walk down the hall together, and sit on the edge of the mattress until Steve joins you. He sets the chair in the middle of the room, closing the door. "What's the plan here, exactly?" He asks with a raised brow, Eddie clearly has something very specific in mind to be rearranging the furniture.

"Well...I was thinking we could tie Y/N up and have some fun." Eddie says, his eyes burning into you as he mentally strips you of your clothes. "Is that alright, princess?" He waits for your answer, going to the dresser drawer containing various toys you've collected over the last year. He slides it open, pulling out some silk restraints. He also takes out a small rabbit vibrator, perfect for what he has in mind.

"Sounds great to me, Eds." You reply, reaching up to the front of your uniform to start undoing the buttons that run down the front of your dress. Eddie sets his items on the bed for now, standing with Steve to watch you strip down. You slowly reveal the matching lacy set you've got on under your work clothes, a baby pink bra and thong that makes your body look absolutely delicious. Anticipation builds rapidly inside you, and your panties are already soaked. You unfasten the final button, slipping your arms through the sleeves. The garment falls to the floor, pooling around your feet.

"Fuck, sweetheart. You look gorgeous as always." Eddie says lustfully, a tent forming within his loose pants.

"And both of you are handsome as ever. You wanna help me with the rest of my clothes, husbands of mine?" You barely hold back a squeal of excitement at calling them that for the first time.

"Yes, please." They speak in unison again, but you have no time to laugh as they descend upon you. Steve's hands immediately go for your chest, cupping your tits through the thin material of your bra. Eddie stands behind you, running his large palms along your back and ass. The warmth of their bodies radiates on either side of you, their breath fanning across your bare skin. Steve reaches around to unhook your bra, and the straps fall down your shoulders. He removes the slip of fabric, and takes your bare breasts in his grasp.

"Steve." You moan as his thumbs roll over your hardened nipples. He brings his lips to your chest, planting hot, wet kisses on every inch of your tits. You let out a sigh, lacing your fingers into his hair. Meanwhile, Eddie presses his body against you. His erection is poking into your ass, and you can't help rubbing yourself against it.

"C'mere, baby." Eddie murmurs in your ear, turning your head to lock his lips on yours. His tongue enters your mouth instantly, quickly dominating your own. His left hand wanders around your stomach, creeping downward to your panties. His fingertips slip under the fabric, and just barely graze against your clit. You moan down his throat, and he begins to rub the bundle of nerves in slow circles. Eddie breaks your kiss, looking at you with lust-blown eyes. "You're already so wet, angel. Such a good girl for us." He speaks breathily, unable to stop watching your gorgeous face twist in pleasure as the two men touch your body. Steve takes one of your nipples in his mouth, gently biting down.

"Mmm, fuck. I love everything you two do to me. I'll never get enough." You sigh, absolutely melting between them. Your head falls back to rest on Eddie's shoulder as you let out a stream of obscene noises. It's taking everything in you to stay standing. You're so weak in the knees already, and they're just getting started.

"And everything you do to us is just as addictive, sweetheart. How 'bout you lose the panties and take a seat, hm? Let us take care of you." Eddie speaks softly in your ear, tempting you with his words. Steve's been listening intently, ceasing his touches on your chest to let you fully strip and get in position. Eddie's hand leaves your underwear, and he backs away slightly. Their eyes watch you closely, devouring every inch of bare skin, every jiggle and bounce of your body as you bend to remove your thong. You let it fall to the floor, and sit in the kitchen chair. "Good girl. Now, put your arms around the back of the chair, and spread your legs nice and wide for me." Eddie instructs.

"Need help, Eds?" Steve asks, wanting to contribute to whatever Eddie's trying to do.

"Yeah, tie her ankles to the legs of the chair so she'll stay still." Eddie picks up the silken restraints, handing a set to Steve. You position your arms around the back of the chair, and Eddie ties them together while lacing the black fabric through the rungs. Steve gently pushes your legs open, his breath catching at your pooling arousal. It glistens in the dim lamplight of your bedroom, coating every centimeter of your beautiful pussy.

"Oh, babygirl. Already such a mess?" He asks teasingly, and you just nod your head. "Use your words, Y/N. Tell us how much you want us." Steve commands, taking a lead in this situation. He looks at you seriously, and your heart races in anticipation.

"I want you both so bad. To touch me, finger me, fuck me. Whatever you want. I need it." You whine with lust-blown eyes as Steve continues his work on you. The desperation in your voice makes their cocks twitch, they'll never get over how hot you sound like this.

"That's a good little slut." Steve says, standing up once your restraints are in place. He reaches forward to cup your cheek, stroking the supple flesh with his thumb. The thumb slowly moves toward your mouth, landing on your bottom lip. You instinctively take it into your mouth, sucking on the rough skin and biting down gently. "Fuckin' gorgeous." He breathes, as Eddie walks from behind you to join him. He stands mostly behind Steve, putting his hands on his shoulders and leaning in real close.

"She sure is, Stevie." Eddie says, his hungry eyes joining Steve's in drinking in the sight of you. You're completely incapacitated, unable to move or even squirm. Perfect. "You wanna know what we're gonna do to her, baby?" He speaks lowly, the words drifting across Steve's ear. Steve just nods, and Eddie brings his mouth closer to whisper his plan. You can't hear what he's saying, but you know you're in for it when Steve's smile grows wider to match Eddie's.

"Fuck, Eds. She's gonna love that." Steve replies, turning to look back at the metalhead. They exchange a light kiss, resisting the urge to deepen it. You are the focus here, their time will come soon enough. Eddie pats Steve's shoulders, backing off to pull his tank top over his head. Steve takes off his glasses, setting them on the dresser. Eddie picks up the vibrator, holding it firmly in his hand. They're both shirtless now, sporting massive erections in their loose-fitting pants. They walk over to you, and kneel before you as close as they can.

"Are you comfortable, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, needing to make sure the restraints aren't too tight.

"Yes, my loves." You reply simply, smiling at them.

"Good girl. You ready for us to start, wife of ours?" Steve asks, mirroring your words from earlier in his own way.

"Yes. Please." You say breathily, pleading with them to do something, anything. All this buildup is driving you crazy. Without another word, Eddie brings his head between your legs. His hot breath whiffs against your cunt, and he licks a long stripe from your clit to your entrance. "Fuck." You moan, watching Eddie's mouth move along your slick folds. In the meantime, Steve plants warm kisses on your thigh.

"You always taste so sweet, darling." Eddie groans at how delicious you are, continuing his work. His tongue slips into your soaked hole, stroking your g spot effortlessly.

"Feels so good, Eds." You sigh, your head falling back in pleasure again.

"Eyes on us, angel." Steve says, stern but patient. You do as he asks, your eyes trained on the two men as they worship your lower half. "May I have a turn to taste her, Eddie?" Steve asks, he's very eager to have your sweet, musky flavor on his tongue.

"Be my guest, Stevie." Eddie replies, moving over to let him in. His own mouth latches onto your other thigh, worrying his teeth on the flesh to leave a large hickey behind. Steve flicks your clit with his tongue, much more rapid than Eddie's actions.

"Steve." You whimper, feeling a squirming knot beginning to build inside you. He keeps pleasing you with his tongue for a few minutes, until you hear the vibrator in Eddie's hand click on. He sets it to the second highest setting, and gently moves Steve out of the way.

"Now, princess. You can't cum unless we say you can. Okay?" Eddie smirks, knowing this will be absolutely delectable torture for you.

"Okay." You say meekly. He brings the tip of the vibrator to your clit, pressing on it with feather-light pressure. It's enough to just barely feel the vibrations, drawing cool air towards your bundle of nerves. "Oh, god." You moan as it feels so good, but it's also not enough.

"Do you want more, Y/N? Use your words." Eddie asks expectantly.

"Yes, more, please." You answer, moaning again when he puts the toy directly against you.

"Such a pretty little slut, moaning and begging for us. God, you're too fuckin' good." Eddie praises, clicking the button on the bottom of the vibrator to make it go faster.

"Oh, fuck." You whimper, growing closer to reaching your peak. It really hasn't taken much at all. The sentimental moment earlier, and the added thrill of being tied up has amped you up significantly. Eddie shifts the toy to your entrance, slowly pushing it inside you. You moan loudly at the vibrations filling you up, pleasing your entire lower half.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" Eddie asks seductively, he can't get enough of the noises leaving your lips.

"Fuck, yes. So fuckin' good. I'm getting close, baby." You whine, and he gradually picks up the pace with the toy. The tip of it brushes your g spot with every gentle thrust, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Just remember the rules, love. Don't cum until we say so." Eddie reminds you in warning, though he's absolutely eating up every last whine and moan you're letting out into the air.

"Or else we'll have to punish you." Steve adds, biting roughly on the skin just above your knee. Your wrists strain against the silk ties, and your legs are begging to thrash around as Eddie continues to fuck you with the vibrator. A light layer of sweat slicks over you, giving your flesh a subtle shine.

"Fuck, I'm almost there, Eds. Please let me cum." You beg, your eyes burning with need as you stare down at him. He speeds up in response, smirking like the devil himself. "Eddie, please!" You cry out, he's pounding into your sweet spot relentlessly, trying to make you lose control. But he hasn't given you permission, and it's taking everything in you to hold back.

"Did you really think it would be that easy, baby? You should know us better than that." Eddie says, and you realize what you're truly in for. Your soaked cunt squelches with every thrust of the toy, and you're a mess of curses and moans. You feel the warning waves of your oncoming orgasm rolling over you, and your thighs have begun to twitch. "Fuck, you really are almost there, angel. Hm, that's too bad." He mocks, waiting for you to be right on the precipice of your high.

"I can't hold it anymore, love. Please, let me cum. I need it, I'll be so good for you." You beg helplessly, but he gives you no response. You're just about to cum, when Eddie turns the vibrator off and pulls it out of you entirely. You groan loudly at this denial, glaring in his direction when he sets the toy in his lap. Your muscles relax in defeat, and you're left frustrated and panting in the chair.

"Sorry, angel. We didn't say the magic words yet. You know the rules, and we are far from done playing with you." Steve says, inching his mouth towards your core with every word. His lips press against your inner thigh, just centimeters away from where you want him most. He glances up at you, a similarly evil smile on his face. They're both enjoying this way too much. You're completely at their mercy, and they've managed to get you to beg for release so early on in their game. That was clearly a mistake on your part. Your pleading only fuels their hunger to keep the torture going.

"Steve, please. Do something, anything. I want you so bad." You try your best to convince him to start the cycle again.

"Only because you asked so nicely, babygirl." Steve says, before shoving his tongue inside your dripping pussy.

"Oh, fuck!" You exclaim, your thighs clenching in reflex to his touch. If it weren't for your restraints, they'd be wrapped tightly around his head as he fucks you with his tongue. Eddie moves in to join him, gently pushing Steve's head aside to fit. His tongue slips out of you, but it's quickly replaced by the both of them licking either side of your clit and folds. It's a tight squeeze, but it's so fucking hot to see them pleasing you with their mouths at the same time. "Oh my god." You moan, drinking in the image of these two gorgeous men squished between your legs. They groan and hum against you, licking and sucking wherever they can reach to taste your sweet nectar. Eddie's eyes stay glued to yours as he flicks his wet muscle against you, whereas Steve's are blissfully shut. Their breath fans hotly against you and each other, and their dicks are leaking profusely inside their pants.

"Mmm." Eddie moans, savoring your musky arousal. Steve moves a little closer to run his tongue along Eddie's, effectively making out with him while they continue to eat you out. "Such a dirty boy, Steve." Eddie smirks, keeping up with the other man's rhythm. These two are absolutely incredible, the display before you is almost enough to make you lose it entirely.

"You both feel so good, my loves. Your tongues are fuckin' amazing." You praise in a husky tone. Pleasure is building up inside you again, though it's much more gradual this time. You certainly don't mind, you could watch them do this all day.

"Back up, Eds. It's my turn to play." Steve says, pressing lightly on Eddie's chest to push him away. He grabs the toy off his lap, and turns it on. He sets it at the lowest speed, and slowly drags it along your slick folds.

"More, please." You beg, this setting feels like barely anything at all. Steve obliges your request, going up two levels. You moan at the vibrations coursing through your bundle of nerves, yanking against your bindings.

"Don't struggle, baby. Take it like a good girl." Eddie says, giving his mouth a break to observe your every noise and facial expression. "Turn it up, Stevie." He orders, his eyes trained on you to see your reaction. Steve clicks the button a couple more times, and the buzzing increases.

"Oh, fuck." You sigh out, your breath coming out hot and ragged as you feel yourself ramping up again. You're sweating harder than before, drips of perspiration running down the back of your knees.

"You gettin' close again, angel?" Eddie asks, your pleasure reads plainly all over your face. Your mouth hangs open to let out moans and curses, calls of their names. And your legs keep twitching beyond your control.

"Yes, love. So close, so fucking close. I wanna cum so bad, make a big mess for you. Please." You're pleading again, even more desperate than before.

"Just a little more, Y/N. You've been such a good little slut for us. You'll get what you want soon." Steve says, clicking the button two final times to max out the vibration.

"Fuck." You whimper, inching dangerously close to the edge. Those infamous waves are coming in, and your insides are already fluttering. Steve slides the toy into you again, tearing more helpless sounds from your throat. He thrusts it in and out rapidly, trying to make you break the one rule they've set for you. "Steve, please. Let me cum, it's too much, I can't hold it." You're begging helplessly, your body feels like it's on fire.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Don't disobey us." Eddie warns as your breath threatens to catch in your throat.

"I'm trying! I wanna be a good girl for you." You shout, growing all the more frustrated as they continue to deny you. You can feel it, the final warning of your oncoming release flashing brightly before your eyes. You need to cum now, you need them to give you permission. "I-I can't...please...I need it." You're practically in tears, it almost hurts to keep holding back like this. Your eyes flick between them, waiting for them to allow you to let it all go.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. Cum for us." Eddie says, signaling for Steve to jackhammer the toy to send you flying over the edge.

"Oh, god! Fuck, I'm gonna cum!" You cry out, your orgasm finally crashing into you. It's so fucking intense, and quickly consumes your entire being. Your body trembles in the restraints, and you're blinded by bursting stars in your vision. Steve removes the vibrator from you, timing it just right so he and Eddie can try to catch some of the gushing flood of cum that spills from you. It splashes out from your cunt, landing on their faces, your thighs, and the floor below. They swallow every last drop they can, their tongues stuck outward to taste your sweet release. "Shit." You exhale roughly as your high subsides. Your body goes slack against the chair, and you're trying to catch your breath.

"Did you enjoy yourself, babygirl?" Steve asks, drawing your fucked-out eyes to him. You gaze at his glistening face and chest, coated in your juices. Eddie's just as sticky, and they're both smiling like kids on Christmas.

"Yes, that was totally mind-blowing." You reply with complete and utter satisfaction. "You gonna untie me now?" You ask nonchalantly.

"'Fraid not, princess." Eddie says, still grinning mischievously.

"Why not?" You quirk an eyebrow at him, wondering what else they could possibly do with you in this position.

"Because, you're gonna sit and watch while me and Steve have some fun of our own." He says, turning his head to look at Steve. "Is that alright with you, babe?" He asks the man beside him.

"Sounds perfect, Eds." Steve replies, letting Eddie take the lead. Eddie stands, and Steve follows suit. You watch as they strip off their pants and boxers, revealing their rock hard cocks. The heads are red and swollen, sticky precum beading in the slits. Eddie steps closer to Steve, putting his hands on his waist.

"You're so handsome, Stevie." Eddie says lowly, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Not as handsome as you, love." Steve meets him halfway, and their plush lips brush against one another. The kiss deepens immediately, Eddie's tongue rolling against Steve's roughly. Small moans escape them, and Steve reaches around to grab Eddie's ass in large handfuls.

"Mmm, fuck, Steve." Eddie groans as Steve massages his taught flesh. Eddie slips his own hand between their bodies, taking hold of Steve's aching dick.

"Eddie." Steve whimpers, his hips bucking slightly at Eddie's touch. The metalhead strokes him nice and slow, rubbing the precum around his tip when his thumb can reach.

"You want me to fuck you, Stevie? Fill you up with my cock while Y/N watches?" Eddie asks seductively, his eyes flicking to you at the mention of your name.

"Yes, please." Steve whines, turning his gaze to you as well.

"Mmm, good boy." Eddie praises, his other hand coming up to cup Steve's cheek. He gives him another kiss, before backing away to sit on the edge of the bed. Steve groans at the loss of contact, but kicks into gear by going to the dresser to pull out a bottle of lube. He stands before Eddie, slightly to the side so you can see. He pops the top of the bottle open, pouring some of the lube into his palm. He lets it warm in his hand for a minute, before taking hold of Eddie's dick. "Fuck." Eddie mutters at the wetness meeting his length. Steve's hand rubs the liquid around to coat the appendage entirely, before setting the bottle down. He turns around, putting his feet on the mattress to squat over Eddie. He lowers himself down, and you watch him bring his puckered hole to the tip of Eddie's cock.

"You ready, Eds?" Steve asks, his own breath shaking in anticipation. He loves having Eddie inside him, it's like nothing else he's ever experienced.

"I should be asking you that, darling." Eddie replies, holding the base of himself steady to assist the man above him. Without another word, Steve moves lower to accept Eddie inside him. The head breaches the tight opening, making Steve groan at the stretch. He keeps going, taking every last inch inside his ass until he's completely seated.

"Fuck, you're so big, babe." Steve pushes the words out, feeling so full in the most delicious way. His eyes have screwed shut as he focuses on staying relaxed. Eddie takes the lead, grabbing hold of Steve's thighs to support his weight. Steve's feet leave the bed, hanging in the air while he waits to be maneuvered on Eddie's dick.

"And you're so fuckin' tight, baby." Eddie says, looking at you again. Steve puts an arm around Eddie's shoulders to hang on, his other hand holding his right knee to have something to grip.

"You guys look really beautiful right now." You observe aloud, gazing at them lovingly. It's insanely hot to see the two of them having sex in front of you, but you wish your hands were free so you could touch yourself as you watch. Either of them always have their hands available when it's their turn, but you suppose this is just another part of their game.

"So do you, sweetheart." Eddie winks at you, returning his attention to Steve a second later. "Can I start moving you now, Stevie?" He asks seductively, leaning in to press a kiss to Steve's chest.

"Yes, please." Steve replies, opening his eyes to be present in the moment. With that, Eddie lifts Steve up with his hands, bringing him back down a second later. They let out low groans at the sensation, the sound of which flowing directly into your ears. A jolt of pleasure runs between your legs, and you feel yourself getting wet again. You already know that by the time the boys finally untie you, you're going to hungrily pounce on them.

"Tell me how it feels, baby." Eddie murmurs, his breath stuttering slightly at Steve's ass fitting so warm and snug around him.

"It feels phenomenal, Eds. I love having your dick inside me, you fill me up so well." Steve admits in a dulcet tone, sending more flares to your pussy. You might not need your hands after all, the image alone of the men you love in this position is so damn erotic. It may very well be enough to make you lose it all over again.

"You're such a good boy for me, sweetheart." Eddie praises, raising Steve upwards, setting a steady pace. You watch as his cock disappears into Steve's hole over and over, occasionally checking to see the gorgeous expressions of arousal on their faces. They both moan and curse loudly, occasionally calling one another's name along with yours. "You enjoying the show, princess?" Eddie asks, flicking his eyes to you.

"Yes, you're so fucking hot. And you're making me so wet, I wish I could touch you...or myself." You reply, still staring at Eddie's length entering and exiting Steve. It's an intriguing sight, and almost looks mechanical at times.

"Y/N is such a filthy girl, isn't she?" He asks Steve.

"Yes, such a naughty little slut." Steve says, giving you a grin as he degrades you.

"She's getting off on watching us fuck...her pussy is dripping all over the floor. Making such a mess. She wants us so bad, Stevie. Tell me what you wanna do to her." Eddie continues, using his words to rev up the fun for all of you.

"I wanna fuck her face, Eds. Shove my dick down her pretty little throat, fuck. Make her gag until her eyes water, have her swallow every last drop of my cum." Steve speaks in great detail, his words stuttering throughout as Eddie keeps him sliding up and down. You let out a light moan yourself as every sentence makes your cunt more wet than the last.

"Good, what else?" Eddie presses on, needing to hear more of these vulgar confessions from Steve's beautiful lips.

"I wanna put my cock inside her pussy, she's always so wet and warm. So fuckin' tight, too. Wanna have her on her back, with her legs folded over herself. Or take her from behind, wrap my hand around her neck until she cums all over me. I love it when she squirts, she tastes so delicious." Steve's tone is gradually becoming more whiny, and you can tell he's nearing his end. Eddie isn't too far off, this little game has been driving him insane. He increases his speed, making the both of them moan extremely loud. "Fuck, Eddie. Feels so good, go faster." Steve pleads, and Eddie gladly accepts the suggestion. He brings him down harder and faster than before, making Steve gasp.

"I'm getting close, Stevie. You're so fuckin' perfect. Such a good boy, gonna fill your sexy little ass with my cum." Eddie rasps, barely holding it together as he feels his stomach start to tighten.

"I'm almost there, too, Eds." Steve pants out, he knows he's gonna blow at any moment. You yourself feel oddly close as well, it's crazy that you've managed to get as much pleasure out of this as your special boys. Steve looks at you, his eyes widening when he notices your own breath coming out heavy and labored. "Shit, Eds. Look at her, I think she's gonna cum, too." He says with a smirk, biting his lip at how needy you look.

Eddie's eyes draw to you as well, and he chuckles darkly. "Fuck, I think you're right. We haven't even touched her...holy shit." Eddie says in wonderment, he's never managed to pull off such a feat before. He didn't even think something like this was possible. "You wanna cum with us, sweetheart?" He asks, his cock twitching at the thought of you having an orgasm from just watching.

"Yes." You whimper, unable to muster any other words. You feel like you've gone insane, being able to get off on observation alone shouldn't be possible. But clearly, you're proving to be a sexual marvel here as you can feel your walls begin to flutter around nothing at all.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, Steve." Eddie grunts, his hips bucking upwards as he's taken over by his orgasm. His mouth falls open, and his brows knit together as his load empties into Steve. You watch the white fluid spill out as Eddie continues to thrust to bring Steve down with him.

"Eddie! Oh, God, fuck!" Steve cries out, his pelvis jerking forward with Eddie still inside him.

"Shit." Eddie groans at the tugging on his length, his pleasure extended at the feeling.

You're hit by your own high while your eyes are glued to Steve's dick, watching his cum spurt upwards in sticky shots that land on his own chest and stomach. "Oh, god!" You moan, your body pulsating as it pulls hard against the bindings keeping you in place. Absolute bliss rushes through you, and another, smaller gush of juices spills forth from between your legs. Your thighs tremble, your chest heaves harshly while your eyes roll back into your head.

"Damn, that's gotta be one of the hottest things I've ever seen, angel." Eddie coos to you from the bed. He's still inside Steve, waiting for the both of them to fully come down before helping Steve remove himself.

"I second that. We'll have to do it this way more often." Steve adds, planting his feet on the bed to get off Eddie's cock. He slowly eases off, a couple more groans leaving them as he does so. He almost stumbles to the floor, his knees feel a little weak from just how good Eddie gave it to him.

"You good, Harrington?" Eddie asks, moving to help him. But Steve waves him away.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm gonna get a towel to clean us up a little. You wanna untie our girl?" He gestures towards you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Sure thing, babe. Hurry back, I think we could all use a smoke break." Eddie replies, getting off the bed to undo your bindings. He lets your ankles free first as Steve leaves the room. Then he goes around the chair to release your hands. "Are you sore at all, sweetheart?" He asks kindly in your ear.

"No, Eddie. You tied them just right, no bruises, no pain, no chafing. It was perfect." You reply, still catching your breath. You stand up out of your seat, drips of your release running down your legs. You walk over to the naked man before you, placing your hands on his chest as you lean forward into him. His arms go around your waist, holding you close. You gaze at him adoringly, and he does the same to you. "I love you so much, Eds." You say softly, your lips just centimeters from his.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He closes the gap between you, his plush mouth melding into yours. You hum into the kiss, and you can feel him getting hard again. His cock pokes into your stomach, but you leave it alone for the time being. Your boys need a break before fucking your brains out. Right now, you want to focus on being close with them, sharing tender moments of intimacy.

"Having fun without me?" Steve asks from the doorway. You break your kiss, both of you turning to look at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby. Come here." You offer, extending your hand for him to join you. Eddie shifts slightly to open your embrace to make room for Steve. He sets down the towel and bottles of water he brought back to the room, taking his place in your makeshift circle. Or is it a triangle? It doesn't really matter, so long as you all act as equal parts within it. His hand slips around your waist, and the other rests on Eddie's back. Eddie mirrors his action, and you put one of your palms onto his hairy chest. "We love you, Stevie."

"I love you both too, more than you know." He almost whispers, and the three of you lean into the center of whatever shape it is you've created. Your mouths and noses smush against one another, your tongues coming out to play. Contented giggles and sighs leave all of you at varying intervals. This moment defines what your relationship is like, and why you love each other more than anything in the world. It's warm, affectionate, and also a little dirty. And none of you would have it any other way. You savor each other for a while, a nebulous cloud of steaming breath dizzying your heads as you share a small amount of oxygen. By the time you pull away, you're all extremely aroused again. Just waiting to tear each other apart in the most romantic way possible.

"Alright, we've gotta breathe." Eddie chuckles breathlessly as he finally calls this three-way make-out to an end. "Let's hydrate, clean up, and have a smoke. Then we can have some more fun." He says with a grin, stepping away to grab one of the water bottles from the dresser. He picks up the towel, handing it off to you. "You first, sweetheart."

"Thanks." You wipe the fabric between your legs and down your thighs, before giving it to Steve. You take a bottle for yourself, unscrewing the lid. You take a large gulp, watching Eddie light three cigs in his mouth at the edge of the bed. The little orange flame ignites the ends, and he inhales deeply to start the burn. He takes one of the smokes away from his mouth, giving it to you. You take a seat beside him, and bring the filtered end to your lips.

Steve comes over to sit on the other side of Eddie, giving him the towel in exchange for his own cigarette. You watch Eddie clean the cum and lube away from his cock, tossing the towel onto the puddle you made earlier. "There we go, all clean. But I gotta say, I can't wait to get dirty all over again." Eddie says in a cheeky tone.

"That makes three of us, I'm sure." You quip, drawing light laughs from the three of you. You lay your head on Eddie's shoulder as you continue to smoke, taking sips from your water until the bottle is empty. You all sit together in the quiet, flicking your ash in the tray Eddie set on his thigh.

Once the bottles are tossed away, and your spent butts are stubbed out, you figure it's time to play again. "So, what would you like to do with us, princess? You were such a good girl when we played with you, you can have anything you want." Eddie coos, cupping your cheek as he offers you the chance to decide how you want them to please you. And you already know exactly what you want.

You can't help smiling wide beyond your control, and you can see the boys' eyes widen with curiosity as to what you desire. "I want..." You pause, a little nervous to ask for this. You've done it before, and it's always been fantastic. The only downside is that it takes so much out of all of you, that you can't do much else for a couple days. "I want to have both of you inside me at the same time." You practically blurt the words out, hoping they won't say no.

They just smile at you, nodding their heads in sync. "You got it, babygirl. Where do you want us?" Steve asks.

"I want you to lie down, Steve. And spread your legs nice and wide for me." You instruct, and you feel a trickle of arousal escape you at the thought.

"Ooh, is someone taking charge now?" Eddie asks snarkily, waiting for you to tell him what to do. Your eyes snap to him at his question.

"You've both been in charge this entire time, it's only fair that I get a turn." You reply shortly. You return your attention to Steve, crawling over to him. You straddle his stomach for a moment, and put your hands on his chest. "Hey there, handsome." You lower your head to give him a feverish kiss, shoving your tongue inside his mouth. He hums against you, letting you take the reins. His hands instinctively go to your hips, holding your flesh nice and gentle. You force yourself to slow down, you want to enjoy every last second of this. Your kisses become deeper, your tongue rolling steadily against Steve's. You can taste a hint of your cunt coming from him, mixed with the smoky flavor of tobacco. You pull away, gazing down at him with hooded eyes.

"Hello, gorgeous." He compliments you, running his hands around to squeeze your ass. You moan at his touch, your hips grinding against his belly once. Steve can feel your arousal spreading onto him, and it makes his cock twitch behind you. "Soaked again already, darling?" He asks.

"Yes, all for you, husbands of mine." You reply. You beckon Eddie over, and he kneels sideways beside you and Steve. You sit up, reaching behind Eddie's head to bring him closer. You smash your lips on his, moaning against him when he bites your bottom lip. He takes hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. "Eddie." You moan against his lips. The cool metal of his rings shocks your flesh, contrasted by how warm his calloused hands are. Your pelvis rolls again, slicking Steve's stomach further. Your eyes flutter closed as pleasure slowly ignites within you, and you feel Steve's thumb rubbing light circles on your clit. "Oh, fuck." You sigh, ceasing your grinding to allow better access to your bundle of nerves.

"You make such beautiful noises, princess." Eddie whispers, lowering his head to plant wet kisses on your throat. He nips your skin as he does so, marking you with hickies.

"I want you, both of you, so bad." You continue to moan, your head falling back as they rev you up.

"We want you too, baby." They say at the same time, as they have been throughout the evening.

"Eddie, can you get the lube...and loosen me up a little?" You ask somewhat awkwardly. You don't really know why, this isn't your first time doing this. But you suppose the phrasing just sounds a little odd, which has made you lose a bit of your confidence.

"Of course, Y/N. And you don't have to be so unsure of yourself. You know me and Steve will do everything in our power to please you. No shame, no judgment, remember?" Eddie says in a comforting tone, reminding you of the number one rule you've all agreed upon when it comes to the bedroom.

"I know. Sorry." You reply sheepishly, averting your eyes from his.

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. It's okay. Let's get you ready, hm?" He offers, reaching for the bottle as he'd set it on the nightstand earlier. You nod as an answer, and he clicks open the lube without another word. Steve is still swirling his fingers around your clit, and he watches as Eddie prepares to stretch your asshole. Eddie squeezes some of the liquid on two fingers, bringing them behind you to your puckered hole. The tips of his digits brush against you, making you jolt. "Just relax, angel. Gotta stretch you a little if you're gonna take me like a good girl." Eddie coos, and you nod again. He starts to push one finger inside your ass, making you groan loudly.

"Fuck." You mumble, your teeth clenching together slightly.

"That's it, nice and slow, baby. Just relax." Eddie praises, managing to get his middle finger all the way inside you. He slowly pulls back, and slips back in.

"More, Eds. Add another." You order, and he happily obliges you. His ring finger joins the other, stretching you further. He starts to thrust them inside you, setting a gentle pace. He doesn't want to hurt you, quite the opposite. "Feels good, love. Go a little faster." You request while lifting your hips slightly. You take Steve's dick in your hand, rubbing the swollen tip along your folds.

"Fuck, Y/N." Steve groans, meeting your lustful gaze with wanting eyes. Eddie fingers move faster, hitting your special spot with ease. You gasp, your mouth gaping open. You bring Steve's dick to the entrance of your pussy, and sink down onto him in one swift motion.

"Oh, god!" You cry out, the dual sensation of Steve's cock and Eddie's digits filling both your holes feels absolutely delicious. You sit still on Steve for a moment, letting Eddie finish getting you ready for him. Just a little more, and then you'll get what you've been wanting all night.

"Think you're ready for me now?" Eddie asks. His dick is unbearably hard from seeing just how hot and bothered you are, how hungry you are for them to totally wreck you.

"Yes, please." You whine. Eddie pulls his fingers out of your asshole, leaving you groaning at the loss.

"Lay forward, angel." He instructs from behind you. You do as he asks, resting your torso on Steve's warm body. You can feel his heart pounding against you, and he reaches up to caress your beautiful face.

"Such a pretty girl, so eager to take us both at once." Steve says, giving you another tender kiss. Eddie kneels behind you, squirting a mess of lube onto his length. He spreads it around with his hand, hissing at the coolness of it. He takes hold of your waist with the other hand, guiding his cock to your behind. You whimper at the tip meeting your flesh, wanting him to enter you hard and fast.

"Go ahead, Eddie. Put yourself inside me, I wanna feel you." You encourage him to move this along, sounding so goddamn needy. He does as you ask, his cock gradually breaching your tight entrance. "Oh, god!" You shout, and he keeps going. Inch by inch, he fills you up just the way you want. He can feel himself brushing against Steve through the layers of tissue separating them, and he groans very loudly until he bottoms out.

"Shit, so fuckin' tight for me." Eddie mutters, waiting for you to adjust.

"I can feel you through her, Eds. I'll never get over that." Steve chuckles in disbelief, desperately wanting to start moving.

You take a moment to enjoy the sensation of both these men filling you to the brim. It's unbelievable how good this feels, so full, so snug. You flex your muscles around them to make them whimper for you, you just can't help yourself. "Mmm, good boys." You say with a breathy laugh, you'll never get enough of their helpless noises.

"Can we start moving, babygirl?" Steve asks, squeezing your hips in hope you take the hint.

"Please do." You grant them permission, anxiously anticipating how amazing it's going to feel. Steve starts first, thrusting himself upwards into your g spot. "Fuck!" Eddie waits for him to set a healthy pace before adding himself to the equation. Timing is everything in this position, especially to keep from hurting you. He grunts slightly as Steve's cock brushes against his in a secondary way, it feels so fucking good. "You can move now, Eddie. I need you, baby." You moan. He wastes no time in pulling out and shoving himself back in, stealing your breath away. "Oh, god, yes! Just like that, fuck, feels so good."

"Damn, sweetheart. You're so vocal tonight." Eddie chuckles, taking your ass cheeks in his hands while he thrusts forward with just the right amount of force. His rhythm is staggered from Steve's, overwhelming you with incredible sensation.

"What can I say? You two bring out the best in me." You quip through your moans. You arch your back slightly, allowing the both of them to hit harder and deeper inside your holes. "Shit, this feels fuckin' incredible." You gasp, your head falling forward onto Steve's chest.

"You say that every time, babygirl. But you're not wrong." Steve replies as he continues to thrust upwards unto your pussy. You're completely soaked, a continuous trickle of your arousal keeps his cock warm and slippery as it moves in and out. Combine that with the feeling of Eddie's cock running against his through the thin layer of flesh separating them, and he's riding high on cloud nine right now. His right hand clings to your back to hold you down tight to him, keeping you close. And the other snakes around to reach your neck. You can't see him as your head is turned to the side, but your excitement dials up to eleven when his thick fingers wrap around your throat. You moan as he squeezes lightly, your eyes falling shut at the added stimulation. "You like it when I choke you, baby?" He growls.

"Yes, I love having your big, strong hand around my neck." You manage to force out the words, your head feeling light at the loss of blood flow to your brain.

"That's a good little slut." He raises his head a bit to speak in your ear. His hot breath rushes over you, sending a chill up your spine.

"Mmm, I love it when you call me that." You say sensually when Steve loosens his grip to let you breathe.

"Slut." Eddie says, slapping your right ass cheek, hard.

"Fuck!" You cry out at the pleasurable sting.

"You like that, sweetheart? Should I do it again?" He asks, wanting so badly to keep spanking you. He can't get enough of the deep red marks it leaves on you, making you sore for a day or so afterwards.

"Yes! Please, do anything you want to me, I want it all. I'll be such a good girl for you." You're begging again, but you can't help it. You want them, no, need them, to give you everything they've got.

"Fuck, I can't possibly say no when you beg like that, angel." Eddie replies, bringing his palm down on the other side of your ass. You shout at the contact, a massive flare of pleasure rushing over you. There's a buildup quickly growing inside you again, but you're trying to delay yourself in order to enjoy as much of this as you possibly can.

"More." You whine, arching your back even more to present yourself to him.

"Such a dirty girl, begging me to spank you 'til your ass turns red. You're gonna have a hard time sittin' down tomorrow." Eddie remarks, hitting the other side again, even harder this time.

"Fuck, Eddie!" You shout. You begin to lose the capacity for words. All you can focus on is Eddie and Steve fucking you silly, the stinging slaps of skin against skin, and the harmony of moans and grunts filling the room. You're all a total mess in the best possible way, laser-focused on every pump of in and out. Slippery, sticky sweat coats the three of you, making it difficult to hold on to one another as your orgasms build in sync. Eddie grips your ass roughly, throwing in another slap every now and again, yanking more beautiful screams from you. Steve keeps his hand around your neck, alternately tightening and loosening it. And you're clinging for dear life to Steve's shoulders, clawing at him like a wild animal.

The boys keep making the sweetest noises as they feel one another thrusting rapidly inside your orifices. Their balls slap against each other as well, adding to the sense of closeness they feel while technically separated by you. "I'm getting close, my loves." Eddie pants out, reaching for the lube as it's getting a little difficult to keep fucking your ass. He squeezes the bottle over himself while continuing to thrust, and you feel the cool liquid slowly entering you.

"So are we, Eds." You and Steve answer together.

"Can I go a little faster, sweetheart? You're just so perfect inside, hugging my cock just the way I like." Eddie asks, needing to completely let loose before nearing his end.

"Yes, please. Fuck me harder, Eds." You whimper, coming very close to the edge yourself. He takes you up on your offer, picking up speed and strength to take you down with him. "Steve, choke me, baby. I'm almost there." You plead, and Steve tightens his grip on your throat. You squeak out a moan, sensing the oncoming waves of bliss once more. He thrusts up into you quicker and harsher as well, and his stomach is starting to tense.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." Steve groans, his hips bucking outside of his control. His load spills into your pussy, coating your insides with sticky ropes of white. His toes curl in ecstasy, and he keeps going to make you lose it too.

"Such a good boy, Stevie. Filling our girl up just the way she likes. Fuck, I can already see what a mess you've made inside her." Eddie says, watching as the thick fluid flows from the small gaps between your cunt and Steve's dick as he continues to fuck into you. "C'mon, angel. Be a good girl and cum with me." He growls, smacking your ass again.

"I'm so close, Eds. Hit me again, make me cum. I need you so bad. Wanna feel you fill my ass." You whimper, needing just that little bit more before it all comes crashing down. Eddie spanks you even harder, making you gasp so loud. Your walls are fluttering, and your thighs are beginning to shake. You can feel it, you just need one more smack to get you there. He anticipates your needs, slapping the other side the hardest he ever has before. "Oh, god! FUCK!" You scream, feeling your orgasm finally taking over. Your muscles clench around the men moving inside you, making them groan. Steve continues to thrust working you through your bliss despite how overstimulated he is.

"Fuck, Y/N." Eddie moans, his own release rocking through him. His hips buck almost violently, pushing your pleasure even farther into the extreme. His cum fills you up, thick and warm. You're gasping for air, moaning repeatedly as you feel like you've caught fire from the inside out. A gush of juices burst from your cunt, soaking the three of you between your thighs and the bed below.

"Oh my god." Steve mutters, the rush of your cum flowing over him is so goddamn good.

"That's our good girl, making a mess just for us." Eddie huffs, slowly coming to a stop before collapsing on top of you. Steve stills his movements as well, unable to think straight. There's no sound except your collective heavy breathing for a while, your hearts pounding within your chests as you try to calm down.

"That was amazing." You say softly, still struggling to string words together. You're completely fuckstruck, it's like your bones have been removed from your body.

"It sure was, babygirl. You two are fuckin' insane." Steve says with a light chuckle, he couldn't believe some of the shit you were saying. He'd contributed as well, obviously. But you and Eddie are the true masters of dirty talk.

"You're pretty crazy yourself, Stevie. You're clearly the best at choking, give yourself a little credit." Eddie retorts cheekily from the top of the pile.

"Mmm, it's definitely your enormous hands, baby. They're the perfect size." You chime in, lifting your head to give Steve a gentle kiss. He gladly accepts it, smiling against your lips at the compliment. "And, as much as I absolutely love being in a husband sandwich, I think we should probably clean up." You really do hate to move, but this position is getting a little uncomfortable. Your legs are starting to cramp up from straddling Steve for so long, and Eddie's weight can be a bit crushing after a certain point.

"You got it, angel." Eddie says, lifting himself up to kneel again. He gently places his hands on your butt, getting ready to pull out. "Now just stay still, baby." He instructs, making sure he won't accidentally hurt you.

"Okay." You reply, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself. Eddie pulls back, inching his cock out of your asshole. You let out a quiet whine, and he groans slightly until he's completely out of you. "Fuck." You sigh in relief. His cum oozes out of you, dripping between your legs. He's tempted to lick it off, but decides against it. He sits back on his knees, allowing you to remove yourself from Steve's cock.

"It's all you, princess." He says from behind you. You nod, sitting up while placing your hands on Steve's chest. You slowly lift your hips upwards, cursing under your breath as his softened dick falls out of you, along with a splatter of your mixed release. You feel so empty now, already missing having them both inside you. You fall backwards into Eddie, who catches you in his arms. "Careful, darling. You feelin' alright?" He asks, looking down at you with admiration and concern.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm just made of pudding right now." You say with a giggle, leaning into him as his arms wrap around your stomach. He's so warm, despite your sweat turning cold.

"Now that's a pretty picture." Steve grins, propping his head up on his arm to gaze at you two.

"You know...you can come make it an even prettier one if you get off your ass." Eddie snarks, making you laugh again.

"Don't mind if I do." Steve replies, quickly crawling across the bed to kneel before you. You and Eddie each take one of his hands, clasping your free ones together to complete the circuit.

"I love you both so much. My handsome, sexy, sweet, caring boys." You speak sweetly, gazing between the two of them with overwhelming affection in your eyes.

"We love you, too, Y/N. Our perfect, amazing, kind, beautiful girl." Eddie replies, turning you slightly to sit sideways in his lap. He beckons Steve closer, and the three of you engage in another heart-melting kiss. Your hands reach up to cup the sides of their faces, keeping them close to you. Your lips and tongues tangle together to confess your undying devotion to one another. Tonight has been one of the greatest of your entire life, and you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Your heart swells with every passing second, and Eddie and Steve mirror the sentiment right back to you just as strongly.

The end.

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laracrofted · 1 year

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down comes the night

synopsis: on a cold midnight in the dead of winter, gotham city's district attorney is murdered.

pairing: batman!bob floyd x fem!reader (lucky)

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless accounts dni, character death (obviously), mentions of death and mob violence, language (wc: 1K)

note: while i'm not planning to write a full series for batman bob – more like connected one shots and blurbs, because i can only focus on one series – i knew i absolutely had to write this scene, which has been in my head all week.

Tears are frozen in your lashes.

You saw him on Saturday. He was alive on Saturday. You saw him.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, mussed your hair like an annoying older brother and smacked a drunken and damp kiss on your cheek. He was alive.

"Did you hear me?" Bradley asks you – no, Commissioner Bradshaw asks you. His coat hangs around your shoulders, overly large on your frame, smelling like leather and coffee and cigar smoke. He doesn't smoke, or maybe Bradley just doesn't smoke around you.

He has always been so delicate around you. You still remember when another officer in the Major Crimes Division made some crass comment in front of you, and Bradley barked out a harsh, "Watch your mouth. You're in the presence of a lady," and silenced the room.

Or at least, until Jake smirked and not even bothering to look up from his paperwork, drawled, "Oh really? Where? I don't see any ladies around here. I only see Lucky."

You shot him a withering look, and Jake grinned, green eyes glittering in the dim yellow light of the office.

Bradley says your name again, breaking you from the warmth of the memory, plunging you back into the cold of the night, like a frozen surface of a lake, cracking under your weight.

You're so cold. Swallowing is almost painful.

You look at him, cheeks cold, eyes dim and lifeless. "How?"

A croak, barely audible, but Bradley pales. He opens his mouth, but Bradley's voice isn't the one that answers your question.

"A single shot to the back of the head."

His voice is low and hoarse and if the circumstances were different, kind of attractive. He sounds like cigar smoke and aged whiskey, deep and solid.

You've only seen him a few times.

You'd come looking for Jake up here once and found him up here – up here with him. He spotted you before Jake did and sidled back into the shadows, ready to disappear, and Jake looked over his shoulder.

"That's just Lucky. She's good," Jake reassured him. He beckoned you forward with a waved palm. You quietly handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and watched the shadows. He watched you back, silent and watchful.

You've never heard his voice before.

Under different circumstances.

You don't have the luxury of different circumstances. You only have these.

"Execution style?"

He says nothing, which might as well be a confirmation.

"A mob hit?"

You can only see the bottom half of his face in his mask. His mouth looks vaguely impressed, pitched to the side.

You recall, "He slipped a USB into my clutch on Saturday. He must've done it when I wasn't paying attention or something."

You remember Jake's arm around your shoulders, his lips warm on your cheek, on your hairline.

"He left me a video. He said..."

Trust Bradshaw and Batman. No one else. Everyone else is on a payroll, kid. You suck in a breath and do your best not to cry again. Moisture stings your eyes. Damn.

"He knew, didn't he? He was making plans. He must've known."

You know what Jake would say now.

Everyone wants to kill a District Attorney in Gotham, Lucky. We might as well make, 'Mob bosses want me dead,' the new re-election slogan.

You can almost hear his voice, can almost see his grin.

Bradley nods. "Someone always wants to kill a good D.A., but yeah, Jake knew. He always knew."

You scoff.

Of course, Jake knew.

Jake knew and didn't run. Didn't enter protective custody. Didn't do anything but show up in the court room and smile in the faces of the men who wanted him dead. Damn him and his reckless righteousness. Damn him.

"Hey, Lucky..." Bradley looks sideways into the shadows. "You should probably call in sick for the rest of the week." You look at him sharply, and Bradley holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "You could be in danger. These are dangerous people. We don't know who exactly Jake pissed off."

You could almost laugh. Who didn't Jake piss off?

"He'd want you to be safe, is all," Bradley finishes, stuffing his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. Moonlight glints off of the silver badge at his hip.

You look at him dully. "Jake didn't run. Why should I?"

"And now Jake's dead," Bradley says softly.

And now Jake is dead.

He won't ruffle your hair or grab you coffee in the mornings. He's dead. He's dead.

You abruptly shake your head, almost robotically. Cross your arms.

"I'm an Assistant District Attorney. I can help."

"No," Bradley responds immediately. "For all we know, someone in the DA's office is crooked. You start poking around all of the sudden and..."

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. You could end up like Jake.

You bite down on your lip and cast your gaze into the shadows. "You. What'd Jake say I'd do?"

Batman looks at you, serious and searching, for a long moment, which feels even longer under his gaze. "You'd help. He said, if something were to happen to him, you'd help."

You hold his gaze. "Then I'll help."

And out of the corner of your eye, Bradley sighs.

Bradley leaves before you. He gets a call and heads downstairs – but not before offering to have one of his men drive you home whenever you're ready, which makes you smile weakly.

You expect him to leave soon after. You're surprised when Batman lingers.

You ignore him, mostly, watching the glittering snow dance and glimmer and fall in the wind, pinpricks of reflected light in the darkness, almost like stars.

"He..."

And Batman hesitates.

And damn, isn't that something? Isn't it something to see a masked vigilante – a feared predator, a scourge of the underworld – measure his words?

"He was... a good man. He was my friend. I'm sorry."

You stare. You don't blink. You barely even breathe.

"Thank you."

He dips his chin in a nod – his strong chin – and in the edges of the brightness pouring from the spotlight on the roof of the GCPD building – which bears his symbol, a sign of hope and fear, depending on who bears witness – you swear you catch a glimpse of blue in his eyes.

Before you can look closer, can step closer, Batman is gone, melting into the shadows again, disappearing into the dark and bleak night in a rush of wind.

Standing here alone – without him – feels even colder somehow.

note: will i wish i'd edited this in the morning? probably. do i care right now? not at all. also, down comes the night is now the official name for this universe, which i love, but of course, batman bob is always acceptable 😌

summoning a few friends who might be interested: @sometimesanalice @roosterbruiser @callsignspark @rhettabbotts @yanna-banana @ryebecca @withahappyrefrain

#batman!bob #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fic #fic: down comes the night #bob floyd fic #laracrofted writes

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nardo-headcanons · 11 months

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Sunagakure Worldbuilding Headcanon

My last post on Kirigakure made me think of some Sunagakure Headcanons. Here they are! This is very long, but I hope you enjoy!

People and Culture

The wind realm’s population is rather decentralized, so there are a lot of subcultures, accents and customs that have developed over time. The people of Sunagakure are very intelligent and hard workers and don’t take shit from anyone. They value their independence but also recognize the use of unionizing to achieve their goals. They use rather few words to communicate amongst each other in public, but in private they can be very poetic. Also, they secretly don’t mind the stereotype of tumbleweeds rolling around everywhere in the village, because they can relate. To outsiders, they seem secretive and mysterious, but they are in reality very friendly and hospitable. Once you make a friend in Suna, you’ve made a friend for life. Gift giving, especially in the form of food or other self-made goods is always appreciated. Suna citizens are hopeless romantics, and most soap operas and sappy romance books are produced there. They love to make music and sing together. Most instruments originate from the wind realm and its citizens proudly call themselves the creators of all music in the shinobi world. The wind realm is the country with the richest culture in the shinobi world.

Politics

Recently, Suna has been plagued by an economic crisis, as the wind realm daimyo has preferably hired Konoha shinobi to get missions done. This has raised the distrust in the wind realm government and made the people more loyal to the kazekage than the daimyo. The shinobi have started to prioritize the mission over the lives of the shinobi fulfilling it, however they make sure to give their teammates a quick and painless death if they get into that situation.

Clothing and Cosmetics

Most Suna Shinobi wear long sleeves and cover their head, to protect their skin from sun damage. It’s also very common to cover your face in layers of fabric, as the Suna sandstorms can be ruthless. Light brown, grey, white and black are the most popular colors, as they allow you to blend in with your surroundings and not get detected by enemy shinobi. All people, including kuniochis, keep their hair rather short, cover it or tie them together in some kind of way. There are a lot of unique hairstyles to deal with the strong winds, as can be seen by Temari, who wears four ponytails because the winds would otherwise just destroy her hairstyle if she wore just two. For festive occasions though, Suna clothes are vibrant and colorful, with very intricate details. The most preferred fabric choices are silk and cotton. Before the recession, Suna also had a booming beauty industry, with the best moisturizers, sunblock and body wash originating from there. There is an ongoing feud between the wind realm and the water realm about who has the better skincare products. Wind realm citizens are known to always smell good and take great care of themselves. They use bidets and shower frequently. The women are rumored to be the most beautiful in the shinobi world, however many of them have to deal with orientalism and exoticism from foreigners.

Nature

Flora

A fact that a lot of foreigners get wrong is that Sunagakure is covered completely in desert wasteland. Quite a bit of vegetation is savannah and what we call mediterranean. Still a rather hot country, it is characterized by agonizingly hot summers and barely existing winters. The actual deserts of the wind realm are sprinkled with oases, around which many settlements have formed. The terrain around those oases is very fertile and most of the country’s produce is grown there. Sandstorms are not a rarity here and during these storms there are self-imposed curfews as Suna citizens know that once you get buried in a sandstorm, there is no way anyone will find you buried under all that sand. Only a few nomadic families actually travel and live outside of the oases.

Fauna

The deserts that surround Suna are filled to the brim with the most dangerous, savage animals known to the shinobi realm. The snakes especially must not be underestimated, as their venom can kill a grown shinobi within minutes. Many marionette wielders therefore use it against their enemies. The rivers of the wind realm are full of crocodiles and freshwater fish. The fennec fox is seen as a symbol of good luck and suna nin believe their mission will be a success when they see one. Aside from other cats of prey like lions, cheetahs and leopards. Other mammals include hyenas, hyraxes, macaques, gazelles, oryxes, camels, hedgehogs and sheep. When it comes to rodents, you can find desert rats, porcupines, armadillos, meerkats and gundis. Suna also has the largest spider population in the shinobi world, and you often must check your toilet and shower for any venomous spiders hanging out there. At night you can see bats flying through the sky. The wind realm sea is a home to many kinds of saltwater fish and sometimes you can visit the dolphins, that are particularly friendly to children. Mosquito stings are nasty here, and many diseases, for example those that we call malaria and dengue fever are endemic here. Wind realm citizens have a natural immunity against them and sleep them off in a day, but there are vaccinations available for foreigners.

Food

Stew and other slow cooked gravy dishes The absolute staple of any Suna nin are stews. They’re elaborate and take the whole day to cook. Every family has its own recipes (and thinks theirs is the best) it’s useful to just cut up veggies and meat, and then slow cook it until it’s done. Stews made in Suna include gumbo, adobo, maafe, and many curries. Spices Wind realm citizens have the greatest spice tolerance in the shinobi world. The greatest variety of spices is produced there, from cumin, fennel seeds, coriander seeds, pepper, chilli, cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, bay leaves, tumeric and a myriad of other herbs and spices. Suna food is very spicy for two reasons: many spices they use have a disinfecting effect, and the accelerated production of sweat helps cool down the body. Most spices are sold dried to increase shelf life. Many outsiders travel to Suna to acquire spices directly from the source, thinking they’ll get them for cheap, however, the vendors charge foreigners at a hefty margin. Sunagakure is the greatest exporter of all things spices.

Legumes Legumes play a very important role in the local eating pyramid. They serve as a satiating source of carbohydrates and protein. Beans and lentils can be turned into tofu, stew, mashed or baked, peanuts are often used as a base for stew and sauces in the form of peanut butter. Roasted and salted peanuts are a popular snack in Sunagakure. The biggest buyer of Suna’s exported legumes is Iwagakure.

Cassava This starchy root is soaked and then cooked for a long time to make mash, in stews, or fried. Cassava flour also serves as a gluten free flour alternative and many Suna nin use it to thicken sauces and stews. There’s also tapioca starch which is exported into other countries. Olives In the moderate climate regions, many olive trees are grown, which are then used to make olive oil, the preferred fat source of Suna’s people. Dairy It can often be purchased from nomad families, who sell it in the form of milk, yoghurt, kefir, butter and cheese. The preferred dairy variant is goat’s dairy; however, sheep and cow’s dairy are also available. There’s a possibility that the concept of fermenting milk to make yoghurt and kefir was once brought in by Kiri immigrants, however most wind realm citizens are too proud to give this possibility any thought or think it’s just a myth. Meat Just like dairy, meat can be purchased from several families that travel though the wind realm, or on bazars. It is dried often to increase shelf life. Sweets The best chocolate comes from here. The wind realm has a few islands where cocoa beans are produced, and Suna chocolate is known globally for its rich, earthy, fruity taste. Suna Nin are also the only people that regularly take coffee with them during missions. Most foreigners don’t like the bitter taste, but Sunagakure’s shinobis have realized that the caffeine within coffee beans is useful during missions where you must stay aware for long times. The most common sweetener is cane sugar and used to make coffee candy. Wind realm citizens don’t discriminate, and even children are allowed to have them. Another sweet food, especially popular amongst children are dates. On special occasions, Baklava are offered to the guests or given as a gift. Most foreigners find them way too sweet, but just can’t say no because they recognize the effort and craftsmanship that went into making them. The most popular fruit in Suna are: pomgranate, various kinds of citrus fruits, apples, grapes and green almonds. Ripened almonds are used to make marzipan, which is another one of Suna's culinary prides. Those who try persipan, a localized version from Kirigakure, think that it is a lesser version of their beloved treat.

#naruto headcanons #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines #naruto scenarios #akatsuki #naruto fanfiction #headcanons #sunagakure #worldbuilding #naruto meta #sasori headcanons #gaara #sabaku no gaara #temari

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whatsurnameblog · 6 months

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We Have an Update on Nanami.

After days of no contact, someone finally texts you with an update on Nanami’s whereabouts.

"We have an update on Nanami."

As soon as the message popped up on your phone, you were out of the door.

You thanked the heavens for the fact that your home was in such an isolated part of Kyoto but you undoubtedly missed the sounds of the city that accompanied much of your childhood. Kento was always on the fence about that topic, though he preferred a bit of quiet. The man was almost more fond of silence than jujutsu, that’s where you two were similar.

Your inattentive and hurried steps slipped your keys out of your hand and onto the ground by the car door allowing you a glimpse of your frantic state in the side-view mirror. With your right hand, you combed through some of the flyaways and knots in your hair that you neglected to notice and gathered yourself together. The bags beneath your eyes taunted your youth and the lack of moisturizer on your face was shamefully obvious.

And you couldn’t afford to worry Kento. Only one of you could be worried and you certainly reserved the right.

While standing up straight, you opened the car door with a newfound facade of calm and slid into the driver’s side. Placing your bag in the passenger seat, you jumped as the door slammed shut without you having grabbed it yet. This car was one of the newer models Kento bought with money from some freelance job he did for the government, so without needing to insert an actual key, you took in a breath as you pressed the button to start the engine. As you gathered your seatbelt and clicked it in, you pulled off towards Jujutsu Tech.

You hummed a made-up song as you rolled the windows down a bit, November has never been this beautiful. The weather felt hopeful. A small smile graced your lips as you spotted little landmarks that told you, you were going the right way. You were a bit excited to see the school again and hoped to run into Shoko to slide her your late birthday gift.

But you also couldn’t help focusing on that little feeling bugging you.

The government has called for a national emergency after the city failed to bring back power and service to all the residents. People have evacuated their homes to avoid what the public deemed “mysterious deaths.” No one truly knows what killed all those people in Shibuya.

And Kento is missing. Was missing.

You had reached the final turn of your journey, Jujutsu Tech was just up ahead. The school didn’t really have parking due to an incident that happened decades ago, so you pulled up on the grass right in front of the first entrance.

With an impatient quickness, you made sure the car was turned off, you pressed some face moisturizer and chapstick to your face and lips, grabbed your bag and flung the door open. Your winter boots were fast on the pavement as you walked towards the main building of the school.

Today was a special day, one you waited days for.

That’s when you see it, the short head of hair with thick black glasses and a woman in a lab coat speaking passionately about things you could only theorize.

“Masamichi, Ieiri!” you shouted but when neither moved you began to pick up the pace in your walk.”HEY SHOKO, YAGA, I’m here!”

Both sets of eyes turned to you in shock, it was obvious neither expected your arrival, especially because it seemed that both were leaving.

You relaxed as you joined them, the sweat on your body drying up with the cold air and just like a little girl, your inner game of i-spy got the best of you.

“What’s with all the boxes?” you questioned with a quirk of your brow. “And the handwriting I’m guessing is Masamichi’s?”

He looked between you and Ieiri with a knowing look and sighed, “Yes, it’s mine, I’m just boxing some stuff up to put in storage before heading off to Tokyo for a while.”

“Ah ok,” you smiled. “It has been a hard few weeks– months even, hasn’t it?”

“It truly has,” he placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Oh man, how about a hug before I’m off, huh?”

“It’s just Tokyo!” you comment.

“Oh just humor me, I’m getting old!” Yaga laughed and held his arms out expectantly.

“That you are.” Shoko sassed before dragging you into a brief group hug.

How unusual. You thought.

“Alright, you girls take care yeah? See you when I see you!” And with that, he and his boxes were off with a whistle.

The air was gentle in its movement and the silence the two of you stood in was antagonizing. Your fist was sweaty as you clenched it and your lips dried quickly in the late Autumn air. Your gaze wandered to Shoko as she looked out at Jujutsu Tech. So many memories and so few people to share them with.

“Let’s go inside, we can order something for everyone, what do you think?”

“Why are you here?” Shoko questioned you flatly.

“W-what?” You turned to her, confusion on your face. “You texted, said you had an update on Nanami so…”

“So I was going to come to the house.” She explained. Her face held some of its usual calmness but her eyes turned up with distress.

“Your attitude is unnerving at the moment, Ieiri.”

“Mine?” Her eyes widened. “Did you think logically at all while coming here?”

Her face was balled up in disbelief. She stepped back to take a look at you before composing herself. You on the other hand could not be more offended and frustrated.

“Think logically?! Shoko, what's your problem? I just came to see Kento.”

This is the first time you’ve seen the woman so distraught. Her eyes were teary and her hair stuck to her face as she clenched the strap of her bag, “I know you’re not dumb per se, you knew that when you walked up to me I wasn’t expecting you to come and even in the time we’ve stood here, I have not taken you to Nanami,” she took in a breath as she says your name. “I was on my way to yours.”

Her annoyance with you wasn’t pure, that much you could tell but you found yourself clueless as to why she was taking this tone with you. Instead of jumping on your friend and possibly having a huge argument when it’s evident that you both have been going through such a tough time, you opt for silence as you think about the past couple of days up to now.

“Did you even look at the rest of your texts?” she sighed. “Where’s your phone?”

Your hands were sloppy in going to grab it from your bag and five minutes into your search, you realized it wasn’t there. And while checking your pockets the image of you leaving it on your coffee table flashed strongly in your mind.

“I don’t… have it…”

“Figures…” Shoko tutted. “I texted that I’d meet you at your place because well… you know why.”

Her eyes were sharp and stern, like that of a mother reminding a child of the rules. And after wracking your brain for any possible answer, you concluded that you do. You know exactly why Shoko didn’t rush to take you to Kento. You know why he hasn’t at least texted or called, why he hasn’t tried to contact you at all. You know he went to Shibuya that night to watch out for Yuji, you know. You know why he isn’t in front of you right now. You just refused to admit it.

“Shoko…” you shook your head with wide eyes as your hand laid on the place between your chest and the base of your neck.

He couldn’t be. No not when you feel so much hope, it’s impossible. You and Kento are connected, your souls so intertwined you’d both joked about being lovers in past lives. You two are so close that you can decipher his emotions by reading the lines on his face, the slight movement of his lips, the change in his posture… you can even feel him when he’s not there. And you felt him, all these days you’ve felt him, at least you think you did.

“Everyone… they’re all… Satoru isn’t but he’s- I don’t,” she trails off as tears silently cascade down her face. “And they said Suguru was there but he- he wasn’t him.”

“Shoko, please tell the truth…”

There was a whiplash of emotion. You felt way too hot and way too cold. Everything around you moved all too fast and all too slow. A pint of nausea crept into your gut, the only reason it results in nothing is due to the lack of food and energy you failed to have while Kento was away. You were in agony, the feeling of horror and disbelief crawling into a hole so deep inside you it already began to rot.

“I’ve never even felt this way before, I usually feel so calm, not empty just a bit unbothered but this time, this time I feel so much, too much.”

“Oh, Shoko.” You joined her in her emotions, your knees weak, melting under distress, you fumbled to the stairs beside her. Your cough was girthy and your mouth furrowed with your eyebrows, you pleaded with her. “Oh, I- I… I’m sorry I just-, please say the truth.”

She slightly bends forward at your misstep to make sure that you’re okay and once she gets that overcompensating nod, she straightens up with despair almost permanently etched into her face. “He’s gone… Kento is gone, dead…and I’m so sorry,” she choked.

“Oh, w-what am I going to do? I can’t-… how am I supposed to live Shoko? Tell me, tell me Shoko how?!.” You retch, chest erratic as you struggle for air. You clutch your stomach as thick tears roll down your chin.”This hurts…so much.”

For the third time today, you were reminded of your childhood as you cried and hugged your legs on the steps of Jujutsu Tech. Shoko watched as you broke down and she couldn’t contain her composure as her bag fell from her arm and her hands searched to embrace you. Your sorrow was too great to suppress, so you gave up on fighting it.

Nanami, the man whom you named the love of all your lives, was gone, really gone in every sense of the word and there was nothing anyone could do to bring him back. You were sure you still felt him, and now you see that it was only your heart deceiving your mind.

Everything switched at the realization, causing pain and grief to strike your body in constant waves, and every sound, every figure, even the gushing of the wind, was blurred and muffled. You looked to Shoko, watching as her mouth trembled and stumbled on the words detailing all she tried to do to save him, but life was already too far gone. To try and save Kento Nanami would be like grabbing for air.

You were inconsolable, so much so that your emotions had spilled you from Shoko’s arms and placed you on the ground, bowing before your heartache at her feet.

Your home was no longer ours.

Your love was no longer shared.

You were empty, the only thing in you left was nothing at all. You might as well be dead too

#jujutsu kaisen #angst #nanami kento #jjk nanami #shibuya incident #shibuya arc #shoko ieiri #yaga masamichi #gojo satoru #geto suguru #sorta #kento x reader #a little sad #dealing with grief #i still think gojo is alive #small yuuji mention #kinda my first time doing this #whatsurnameblog

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uriekukistan · 7 months

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tokyo ghoul characters and their skincare routines

kaneki doesn't have an extravagant routine, but he still takes care of his skin. probably just a basic 3-step routine with soap, moisturizer, and spf. i feel like he kinda has dry skin in the winter, so he probably also keeps chapstick and a little tube of hand lotion in his backpack or pockets.

haise on the other hand has more skincare products than he can count and the quinx squad is tired of how much space it takes up in the bathroom. definitely has one of those fluffy hairbands. he's a double cleanse, toner, at least 3 serums, eye cream, moisturizer, and sunscreen guy. he also exfoliates 2-3 times a week and does a mask every night.

ayato might wash his face with hand soap on a good day. his skin is annoyingly clear.

urie has that patrick bateman skincare routine. face ice pack for morning puffiness, cleanser, exfoliate, a peel-off mask, alcohol-free aftershave, moisturizer, eye cream, and spf. he has the second most extra skincare routine of the quinx squad.

juuzou doesn't want the stitches on his face to get infected, so he takes a good amount of time to wash his face every day. he doesn't really use anything else because he doesn't want it to mess with his stitches. yes, that includes moisturizer and spf.

akira is another skincare diva like haise. actually, she probably put him on to a bunch of his favorite products. she has a pretty regimented routine that she follows to a T. every product she uses is probably really expensive too. she likes to pamper herself.

touka has a pretty average skincare routine. a bit more than kaneki's routine, but not a skincare diva. she does cleanser (one wash in the morning, double cleanse at night), maybe one serum and/or spot treatment for breakouts (she is the most annoyed by ayato's skincare routine because she breaks out easily), moisturizer, and spf. sometimes if yoriko comes over on the weekend, they do masks together.

eto either has a very high maintenance skincare routine or doesn't do anything at all. it depends on the day. on the days she does do skincare, she goes over the top to balance all the nights she falls asleep while writing and does nothing. prone to buying new expensive products to try and not using them.

tsukiyama is the biggest skincare diva on this list. also has a 10+ step skincare routine. not a single product in his collection is less than $100. he gets those gold face masks that models get. and has a facial at least once a month. probably spends at least an hour applying all his products in the most careful way possible. nothing but the best for tsukiyama shuu

hinami has a skincare routine similar to touka's (probably learned it from her when they lived together). her criteria for products is if the packaging is cute. she probably makes ayato do pore cleansing masks with, she is appalled by his twice a month hand soap routine.

saiko buys any products that have animals or characters on the packaging, especially any sanrio x (insert skincare brand) products. she gets a bit lazy with it though, and she's prone just using face wipes so she doesn't have to stop watching her anime or playing her game

mutsuki is a skincare minimalist. soap, moisturizer, and spf works fine for him. doesn't see the point in all of haise's expensive serums. another dry skin boy, he probably also carries around lotion in the winter because his hands get really dry.

shirazu washes his face with shampoo in the shower. yes, shampoo.

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul :re #tgre #kaneki ken #haise sasaki #ayato kirishima #urie kuki #suzuya juuzou #akira mado #touka kirishima #eto yoshimura #shuu tsukiyama #hinami fueguchi #saiko yonebayashi #tooru mutsuki #ginshi shirazu

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melit0n · 5 days

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Delicate Is The Flesh - Chapter 6

- Synopsis: On the brink of the bustling new city of Rosholt lies a forgotten palisade of abandoned homes, shops and streets that sit mummified after a chemical outbreak in the 70s, leaving the city uninhabitable.

Over the years however, the place has become a hotspot for urban explorers and crime junkies alike.

Whispers of reanimated bodies stalking the dead streets and brutal murders worm their way into your friend's ears and, having nothing to do on your Winter break, you reluctantly agree to go exploring the abandoned city with them.

What could go wrong, right?

- Chapters ->

Prologue

Chapter 1: For Whom The Bell Tolls

Chapter 2: Corvus and Krater

Chapter 3: Belly of the Beast

Chapter 4: Something Forgotten

Chapter 5: Citrus and Cinnamon

Chapter 6: Mumbling Conscious (you're already here!)

- Obessive!Demon OC/Reader

- Word Count (for chp): 6.9k

- Warnings (for chp): None.

- Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55444003/chapters/150657787

“So, are you sure you don’t want to tell me about this little love story of yours now?”

Helen giggles softly behind you. It echoes loudly in the cracking concrete bowels you trek through.

“Yes. I can assure you, the only way you will be hearing it is if you come back to Greece with me.” Something snaps under someone’s foot, either glass or the dried remains of some bug.

You both know very well it’s a thinly veiled act of persuasion, a not-so-subtle play on your curiosity. So, somewhat determined to get whatever she had been keeping secret out of her, you put on your best pout and turn to her.

She walks right past you.

Shaking her head back and forth with a hidden knowing smile, she replies, “Making sad faces will get you nowhere, I am afraid.”

“So mean…” you grumble. Considering Helen's typical openness in her thoughts and experiences, you were genuinely intrigued. While it wasn’t mandatory, it was rare she’d hide topics she’d happily chatter about if given the chance. That said, your main aim–hidden under glass and dust–was simply to keep a conversation going. You’ve learnt very quickly that you don’t like the silence here, either. For both of your benefit, you’d much rather keep aimless chatter bouncing off the walls instead of some distant radio show. Keep your mind focused on replies and not the sickly sweet stench of flowers blooming in the middle of winter.

Of empty sockets that stare right at you.

Helen shoots a hand out, “Careful.” Puzzled, you send her a confused glance.

However, the moment she puts a foot down on the wood, you get your answer: the floorboards creaking and groaning loudly with the simple weight. While it wasn’t unexpected–every step you’d taken for the last hour or so had been accompanied by a loud squeak–what catches your attention is how far the wood visibly bends. That, and how damp it is. Damp enough that the moisture shines under the light of your torches.

Stretching your own leg out to test them, you’re unsurprised to now physically feel how deeply they bow under your weight; whining something foreboding with each kilo you put down. Through the soles of your shoes, you can practically feel the fibres cracking.

You sigh to yourself, half out of exasperation and something else you can’t quite pin down.

Looking up from the rotting floor, you’re not surprised to see the rest of the story was in a similar state.

More household items are scattered across the main hall: old stuffed animals poking their saturated heads out of screeching doors. Legs, maybe once holding up sturdy tables, lean against the walls. Sodden, deflated cushions lying haphazardly on the floor slowly melt into the woodwork; plush becoming indistinguishable from the flooring.

All create a waterlogged tapestry of the past.

The wallpaper, colours faded and mixed with old graffiti not unlike a fresh watercolour, reappear in diseased patches across the walls. Even vines from downstairs creep and crawl through the crumbling structure, anchoring themselves to whatever they can find. From the withering leaves, however, you guess they aren’t having as much success as they are downstairs.

A floorboard wails loudly from beside you. “This does not look too good.” She steps forward–really only a half-step–and begins to test the strengths of the planks in front of you. Then, she takes a full one forward with sounds from the floor that have you partially reaching your hands out, as if to catch her. You watch with a building level of unease as she attempts to spread out her weight.

Even the air is heavy. Heavy with the calm before a storm: petrichor and an electric buzz that lets you know you shouldn’t be here. Somehow, it overpowers the dust–which you’re sure sits in foetid clumps wherever the rain and wind sees fit–and worms its way into your lungs.

It’s nothing like the air downstairs: while that was fresh, still holding hints of petrichor, this was thick. Like oil. It’s somehow worse than the stagnant air from the basement.

Eyeing the wood, you hesitantly do the same. “Yeah.”

Something viscous is at the back of your throat. Tastes like how decaying autumn leaves smell.

The thin walls–either on this floor or one of the many others–waver in the wind, and you’re starting to affirm to yourself that Jeanne’s promise of the place being ‘structurally sound’ was another one of her half lies.

Four floors high, including the ground floor–five with the addition of the basement–and you’re sure you’d snap your neck. Bleed out on that ugly cream carpet with wooden wings splayed out beside you. Your only consolation is that you’re pretty sure that the main structure is made of solid concrete, sitting silently under the wood.

The gaping plaster wounds in the walls–rippling wooden muscles and creaking metal bones taught underneath–make you doubt yourself.

At best, you’d break or twist an ankle. At worst, you’ll be a bloated carcass strangled by weeds. A rotting warning to all those who enter.

No way in Hell is this safe.

You take a few more cautious steps forwards, ears perked for the tell-tale noises of crumbling wood that would rather collapse than hold your weight. “If the rest of the floors are like this, I say we stop.” One creaks loudly, a bit too loud for your taste, and you take one backwards. “Wouldn’t be surprised if we fell straight through.”

Helen’s head lowers to stare at the floor, probably contemplating whether the risk of going crashing through four or five stories was worth taking the chance. “I think,” she takes a step forward, graceful as an onyx chess piece slid across the board. “We will be okay.” She turns to you, optimism in her eyes. It makes your shoulder sag. “We just have to keep our eyes out for any wood that is especially dark, or looks wet on the surface.” Another step forward, and you sigh as you begin to follow behind, dutiful as ever. “Is that okay?”

Kind of hard to do when all the wood looks wet, you think. Even so, you keep your nervous thoughts concealed beneath a cool facade. “Whatever you say,” you feel the cold of the water sink into your soles. “You’re paying my hospital bills if I break something, though.”

It’s sarcasm, but she still takes it somewhat seriously. “It would be my fault, so I would not mind.” She shrugs, before pausing, her weight spread between a few different planks. Then she raises her flashlight.

The centre-piece window–which never fails to draw your eye–is broken: jagged teeth glinting in the light.

A soft hum glides up her throat, “The wind and the rain from the North probably comes in here quite harshly: it is no wonder this place is so wet. Either way, I am surprised this place hasn’t fallen like, what is it- paper mache?”

It’s a simple description, one you’d easily take for an answer if not for one simple fact: both windows on the other floors were broken. Both windows faced North, as all the rest of the windows above you.

So why weren’t those as dilapidated as this one?

Wearily, you take a few more steps, trying to follow her invisible pattern of semi-promised safety. “But what about-” that is, before your feet knock into something. Something solid.

Expecting the worst, you look down with a strained look on your face. You’re met with the sight of a porcelain doll. The pale, once pretty, type you almost always see in charity shops.

And horror movies.

Part of its silky pallor is cracked and smashed in, leaving an empty void where half its face used to be. Curly blonde hair frames what’s left of it, fading blue eyes rolled absently to the side.

“Are you scared of it?”

There’s a bit of blush on its face, too. Faded, like everything else is at the hands of time and neglect, but still there.

“What?”

It reminds you of something freshly dead. Eyes and body empty, yet still holding onto the warmth in its fingertips.

Helen crouches down in front of it, repeating herself. “Are you afraid of it?”

You’re surprised the wood holds her weight.

Before you can say anything–let a garbled and probably incoherent answer out of your mouth–she picks it up. Handles it more like a living baby rather than a porcelain resemblance. When she cradles its head, resting stiffly in her palm, one of its eyes rolls. Rolls out of its vacant skull to stare right at you. Glossy and unblinking and reflecting flashing blue and yellow that blinds you.

Beneath light fatigue and a growing sense of alarm that refuses to go away, something rings.

“You’ll get a demon or something attached to you if you hold on to it.” You joke, eyes darting up from the glass one you’re sure sees right through your skin. Or, maybe, sees right past you.

She takes your avoidance as an unspoken yes. She isn’t wrong: if you saw that thing at the end of your hallway in the middle of the night, you’d happily give your apartment up to it.

She fiddles with the stained lace that edges the sleeves and the hem of the forget-me-not dress. “Why?”

It’s a good question–like all of her questions are. You roll thoughts around in your head, seeing how they taste on your tongue. You’d say it’s something embedded in you; embroidered into the intricate tapestry of each twitching muscle and thumping pulse of your heart. You’re afraid of the doll the same way something in the back of your mind, a knowing voice neither old nor young–simply alert–tells you to be afraid of the dark. Tells you to be wary of things that creep and slide.

Tells you to be fearful of things that try to be human.

“Probably because I’ve watched too many shitty horror films with Jeanne.” You reply. Helen simply shakes her head, and you think she knows you aren’t telling the entire truth. Either way, she doesn’t bother to pry a more self-aware answer out of you.

Gingerly, she places the doll back down where she’d found it. Its eye rolls back up into its head, having seen enough. For a few brief moments, you don’t blame it. The untouchable night that resides in its hollow head is probably a more comforting view compared to the sodden floorboards.

Both of you carry on with your hushed agreement to explore the other apartments. Helen glides across the floor with wisp-like grace, barely making a noise, while you stumble over each creaking floorboard and spend every two seconds wondering if you’re going to fall.

You stagger through a few different apartments, eyes skimming over whatever was visible and then moving on, more focused on not falling than searching for anything of interest.

After traversing the hall somewhat aimlessly–chattering to Helen along the way–you find your way into another apartment. One side of the floors has swollen, and the entire place reeks of festering mould.

A question strikes your mind, worming its way out of your mouth as the conversation threatens to fall flat. “Hey, Helen?”

With growing confidence, you carefully step forth. The living room is lifeless; void of any furniture. It also happens to be the side where the floors rise–something very old and very slow trying to breach the surface–so you make the decision to leave the bedroom unexplored. You value your ankles a bit more than that.

“Yes?”

The kitchen is in a similar state. Woodlice crawl between the splitting wood, and a low wind meanders through the rooms like a death rattle. Between what remains of a cabinet and the wall, a cobweb hangs, weighed down by the ever present moisture that seems to loom over the entire floor.

Its weaver is absent.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Considering her lack of reaction to your joke earlier, you’d say her answer would be a no. Either that, or she wasn’t afraid of the dead leaning over her shoulder.

“I think so. To believe in ghosts, you have to have a belief in some sort of life after the one you live, yes?”

Eventually, you find a somewhat sturdy path towards the bathroom and storage room. Much to your displeasure, the bathroom is locked tight. Even though the wood crumbles under your hands, it refuses to open. In fact, after a few tugs, the doorknob comes right off, small screws clattering to the floor.

Almost as if to spite you, the lock stays intact.

“What do you think of it?”

So, you end up trying the storage room. It’s gutted of all furniture.

“Of what?”

The air is stagnant. Brackish. You guess it hasn’t been opened in a while.

“The afterlife. What do you think comes after all this?” Backing up, you attempt to follow your steps back out into the hall.

“I am not entirely sure,” she hums. As each floorboard keens under your weight, you realise that Helen is practically silent as she walks through different apartments. You only really know she’s doing so because of her voice; ebbing and flowing like a warm summer wind from the hallway. “I believe each living thing has a soul, but I am unsure on how long that soul can last.” Her voice becomes louder, “but, I think it may stay after it does not have a body to support it.” and then quieter. You don’t see her walk past your door. “Perhaps they stay because they forgot to do, or say, something before they went. Maybe they stay because they miss home too much.”

Peeking your head out of the doorframe, you can’t spot her. She must’ve already gone into another apartment.

Looking down, you find a stuffed animal imitating you. Or, rather, you it.

You scoff, walking out into the hall and examining the different doors. “What’s home to someone who’s already dead? You’d think a ghost would want to go wherever they please since they have no physical restrictions.” With long strides–you’re sure you look like some sort of awkward stick bug–you pass the elevator. The twin doors are wide open, and even your flashlight can’t illuminate the rubber veins that crawl along its throat.

“Home is not always a place, I think.” Her voice is closer now.

Each door is in varying states of decay: those closer to the window in the hall are mere fragments, while those nearer to the main stairs retain some semblance to actual entryways.

Your eyes catch onto one near the elevator: number forty-six. It’s one of the few on the floor still holding on to its once shining number, this floor being numbers thirty-three to forty-eight. Although, the four is crooked–slanted to the left like a loose skull–and the six is ever so slightly lower than it should be.

“What else could it be?”

With a jostle of the knob, you also realise it's one of the few doors that’s locked. The weight in your pockets brings a smile to your face, and you can only hope you have the right key.

“A person.” Her voice has moved again, now on the opposite side of the hall.

You pause, if only for a second.

You’d never really thought of it that way.

With warmed metal under your fingers, you wonder if you’ve ever seen home inside another person. Your thumb glides over engraved numbers, hidden from your eyes underneath years of rust and oily fingers.

Maybe in Jeanne? Or Helen? Noah? A past lover?

“If you were to die,” you bring a key closer up to your eye, the number indistinguishable. “Away from ‘home’, do you think you’d try to find your way back? Or would you find somewhere else to haunt?”

Maybe…maybe in him.

“I would want to go home, definitely.” Floor six, apt eighty four… “When I do pass, I think it will be nice to be where I grew up. I would want to see the sea again, too. I would not mind staying there after I have passed.”

If so, home is long gone. The grass is dead, and there’s no soft light in the windows anymore.

Just flashing blue and glass in between in your fingers. In your skin.

“And what,”…Floor eighteen, apt two hundred and seventy-nine…not this one either. “What if you’re the type to see home as a person?”

She stays quiet for a few moments.

…Floor three…

You squint.

“Then I trust I will find them, and them, I.”

…apt forty-eight. Shit.

Your shoulders fall.

“Just…uhm, let me know when you make a decision about coming with me, okay?” Helen’s voice fades and flickers like candlelight. There’s almost an echo: a second whisper layered underneath her warm tone.

Wait a minute.

You look back down at the key. Apt forty-eight.

Slowly, your head turns to the left.

The last door by the stairs.

You frown. “Yeah, no- of course.” Answering absentmindedly, you begin to stalk over to the door. You trace invisible lines with your feet, and all seems silent.

Easily, you find yourself in front of number forty-eight, your light greeting the door: a circular glimpse that pierces through the darkness.

You feel like you’re sensing a pattern.

It’s closed, and, with a gentle tug, you find it locked as well.

Half expecting another talking radio, or maybe a miniature desert for this one, you hesitate to even use the key you had been wanting to make use of. You turn it over in your hand: there’s nothing special about it, nor the door itself. Both are in similar stages of disrepair, the door swollen with water and the key elongated with rust. Looking at it closer, you doubt it’ll even open the lock. Hell, the lock itself has probably rusted shut. Either that, or the knob will fall right off, just like the bathroom door’s did.

You look between the door and the key.

Well…as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

The key slides in, and the mechanism opens with a quiet click. Seems the building has decided to grant you a bit of good luck.

The door opens with an ominous creak. Loud and anguished.

When light finally enters the morose cave, you’re more than pleased–although admittedly a little disappointed–to see nothing abnormal. No radios, no luscious ferns, and best of all, no buzzing flies.

Plus, it seemed to house more furniture than the last. The windows are layered thickly with grime and algae, and, even with your torch light, the whole place still feels utterly drenched in darkness. Blinking, it’s as if a thin haze–a light mist–hangs over the room. Or maybe just your eyes.

Tentatively, you step forward, keeping a careful watch on the floor.

The floorboards whine underneath you, rising and falling like valleys and hills under your feet.

The first thing that catches your eye is a large, embroidered armchair in the living room. Like the doll, it has dark, frilled edging–colour indistinguishable–at the end of the fabric. While it’s faded, the colours of the threads bleeding into themselves, you can just about make out a floral pattern; deep viridian in the centre, framed by jade and mulberry.

The legs are made of sturdy wood–not cracking and splintering like the floor–which curls inward at the feet like a snail’s shell. An endless spiral unfurling from itself. It’s exactly the type of chair a grandfather, or maybe some old-money, rich man, would have sitting by the fireplace. You can practically see a soft cat curled up on the seat, slowly nodding off as the wood cackles and crumbles into cinders.

Quietly, you wonder if anybody in this building had a cat. Or a dog, for that matter.

A board bends underneath you, and you take a step back before continuing.

Someone must’ve, right? Your own apartment had a policy on them: no pets allowed aside from fish–and the odd reptile, though that depended on how much paperwork you wanted to fill out–but maybe this one didn’t.

The door to the bedroom opens easily.

You wonder if they had to leave them behind when those chemicals got out. If they did, you hadn’t seen–nor heard–any once loved strays on your way here. Then again, nature, aside from her plants, seems to have abandoned this place. Left it to the hands of Time and the ever changing faces of the seasons.

Much to your surprise, the main bedroom is almost fully furnished. The bed frame is still intact. Well, you think it is, until you notice it’s leaning on one side. Looking closer, you find one leg had rotted off, the rest in a similar condition. There’s a tall wardrobe on the left wall and, opening it, you find it empty. That is, if you don’t count the dust. Running your index finger over the flat surface, you find it comes off in one thick clump that sticks to your finger. Reminds you of the gum people always stick under the desks.

With a look of disgust, you wipe it off and continue looking around.

A soft wind coming from the smashed balcony doors is the only noise you can hear.

You wonder what Helens’ doing.

Then, there’s something in the air. Nothing like the dust or the scent of chocolate, but a noise. It’s some sort of chime; light and soft like the call bell downstairs.

You cross through the main bedroom entryway, intrigued and more awake than you had been a few minutes ago.

Who knows, maybe it’ll be this floor’s anomaly.

You wonder where it’s even coming from: quiet as a breath, it disappears behind each thump of the blood in your ears. Maybe from the storage closet, or the bathroom? Whatever–wherever–it was, you determine it must be close.

Doing a double take, you quickly discover that the kitchen floor was very close to caving in.

Ah.

Well, now you know why the ceiling was dipping on the other story.

Seems the bathroom and storage room are off limits, then.

Ding.

You turn your head. There it is again.

With only one other traversable room left, at least in this apartment, you find your way into the second bedroom. It’s smaller, and without a window it feels as if you’re staring into the endless throat of space.

The wood hums endless tunes underneath you, and there are shapes dancing in your vision, trying to convince you that they’re stars. Stars, and not hooded eyes of indistinct figures.

In the centre, backed up against the far wall–painted a stormy grey–is a cot. It used to be white, paint now peeling off of the wood and curling like angry fingers. There’s a small heart carved into the headboard. It’s obvious it wasn’t a part of the original design; scratchy, as if done with some knife instead of a well-trained machine.

You like it better than the carbon copies, though.

Above it hangs another reminder of one of the parent’s handiwork: something halfway between a traditional wind chime and a baby’s mobile. Falling apart as it is, you can still see the wood carved with pure love and twine threaded with nothing but adoration. Sanded wood and glass clink together, the wind from the hallway their conductor.

There’s a few animals carved into twirling plaques, as well. At least, you think there is. There’s what looks to be a bird with a comically large beak–maybe a woodpecker?–and another that just looks like a homunculus with stick legs.

It’s so utterly odd looking that it gets a chuckle out of you.

Asides from that, the only one that vaguely looks like anything living is one near the centre; a pig. It has sharply drawn trotters and floppy ears that cover its eyes. It spins endlessly in some subtle wind you can’t feel, glass frosted with the endless damp that coats everything in place of dust.

But, from the darkness, something whispers.

You pay it no mind and continue staring at the cot and the home-made baby mobile. Each chime sounds like a baby’s wail: soft and nothing. It sparks something unknown in your chest. Maybe it's mourning. For who and what, you don’t really know. Provoked by some sort of empathy, perhaps.

You’re about to call for Helen–considering the large lack of somewhat interesting things here, you’re sure she’d like this–when there’s another whisper. It's closer this time.

What is that?

At first, you try to shove it off–there’s more broken windows than unbroken in this place. In the dark, it doesn’t take long for a person's mind to convince them that the wind is undead whispers, after all.

There’s a humming in your ears. Not the sharp ring that usually finds you in calm silences and in the warmth of a sunny street, but constant all the same. It ebbs and flows like a breeze; the low mumble of a class yet to start: the distant hum of cars on the motorway: the eerie clatter of trees in the beginnings of a summer storm.

It’s not distracting or intrusive like those invisible flies downstairs–buzzing ceaselessly around your ears–but not like the voices from the radio, either.

Sceptically, you walk out of the second bedroom with a growing frown on your face. The elastic of the mask’s straps dig into the back of your ears.

Staying still, quieting your own breaths and trying not to focus on the constant thumping from the walls, you attempt to decipher what’s being said.

You come up fruitless. It just sounds like an endless string of gibberish to you: too quiet to pick up and too muddled to unravel.

Maybe you need to get your ears checked, too.

Sliding your flashlight under your arm, you press down on a part of your ear, temporarily blocking out the noise. All you hear is the faint thrum of your body: each pulse of your heart, each twitch of your crooked fingers. Taking them away, the noise reappears.

It’s somewhat of a relief to know that the noises weren’t phantoms created by your tired mind. But still, it begs the question of what, exactly, it was. Let alone where it was coming from. It could be an apartment on this floor, or maybe on one of the others. The staircase wasn’t exactly closed off, after all.

Even so, you’re still sure it's close. A thin wall or two away close.

So, you lightly step back to the main bedroom, expecting to pick up on some sort of change.

Nothing happens.

A gentle gust of wind scrapes against the broken glass, and for a split second, you try your hardest to convince yourself that is all it is; the wind.

A gust pushes you forward and, wondering if the noise was coming from the bathroom or storage room, you try the kitchen.

Well, you get as close as you can to it without falling through.

Still no change.

Mind busy with the hushed buzz, you temporarily disregard your fear of the boards underneath you and peek out into the hallway. As you swivel your head left and right–half searching for the source of the noise and half looking for Helen–you find nothing but air and rotting walls.

Your light illuminates the staircase, almost hoping to see someone hiding in the darkness. It’d scare the shit out of you, Helen or stranger aside, but you’d rather find an obvious source than be left–quite literally–in the dark.

You find no one.

Then, you try the other end of the hall. The lambent glow of the moon seems centuries away.

Still no one.

“Helen?” Your voice cracks in your throat. “Helen! Do you,” You swallow something down. A clump of twitching nerves and bile. “Do you hear that?”

You wait a few moments for a response. You’re greeted with heavy silence. It’s deafening; somehow worse than being told a direct ‘no’.

Wearily, you step out of the doorway, out of your damp burrow, and into the hallway. The creaking of the floor–of the walls–feels so quiet.

Has it gotten any louder? Are you getting any closer?

Your light darts in and out of the different apartments. “Helen?”

Or is it getting closer to you?

“Helen! Where are you?”

Passing by another apartment, you still can’t manage to find her. Either your eyesight is going, or she’s suddenly become one of the best hide and seek players you’ve known since primary school. That has to be it. She must be hiding from you for some reason, ready to jump out at you any moment.

Inside, you’re divided. Part paranoid, part annoyed–what if she just left you here?–and part confused. Both at the noise, and her sudden disappearance: you don’t remember her being a relative of Houdini.

“I’m meant to be the one doing the scaring here!” You raise your voice, hoping to reach her. The faint whispers are your only response. “Jeeze, do you really hate me that much?” You try to play on her empathetic side, draw her out with offhanded self-deprecation that always makes her rebuke, but even that wields nothing.

Brows furrowed, you begin to make another round. This time, you hastily search inside the different apartments too, hoping to catch a glimpse of her silky hair or the toe of her trainers.

You examine another apartment, almost skidding on the wet wood. There’s the flat face of a table leaning against a wall–legs missing–and another grimy, smashed window.

After practically running up and down the hallway, you can’t help the way your heart jumps in its marrow cage when you realise the volume of that uncanny noise hasn’t changed. At all. It’s not louder, nor quieter; just that same, off-putting, low mumble.

“Helen! Come on, this isn’t funny. Just come out already.” You say it with a worried smile on your face and end it with a pathetic half-laugh.

Where could she be? You know you’re only skimming the apartments, wandering in and out of each room like a pacing animal, but with how many you’ve searched, you should’ve seen something by now. Plus, with how long you’ve been calling out for her, she would’ve come out of whatever dank hole she was hiding in.

If you were searching for Jeanne, you would understand. Unless you were gravely injured, she would continue playing her game for as long as she could. She was a proud winner who liked losing as much as she liked getting an injection: doing her best to avoid it by any means necessary. But this was Helen. Helen who doesn’t like silence. Helen who hates the dark.

There’s nothing in the next apartment, either.

It strikes you then and there that the only other reason that she wasn’t responding was because she was hurt. Hurt to the point of being knocked out.

With the revelation, it doesn’t take long for your mind to dive into a worried spiral. What if the floor finally gave way? What if she’s already on the ground floor? Neck bent like your fingers. Face contorted with some unheard screech you’d been too distracted to hear. Broken and soulless, and bleeding and turning that ugly cream carpet red.

Suddenly, warm air blows over the shell of your ear, something teasing that sends a sharp spike of fear through every muscle.

You jolt, veins thrumming with fear and relief, “Helen, you-”

Your flashlight illuminates nothing but air.

That jumbled mumbling, that damned whispering, has risen: gotten louder without you even noticing it. It pounds against your eardrums and buzzes under your skin. It feels so close, yet so far, echoing out from every crevice. Coming from everywhere and nowhere.

With a war drum in your chest, you beg yourself to just calm down. All you’re doing by overthinking is making things worse for yourself, and probably Helen, too. It’s just the wind–just a creation of your overly-active imagination. Just that stupid, stupid effect Noah was talking about.

What scares you, though, is that you begin to hear words.

Last time you checked, the wind didn’t speak to anyone other than those fated for tragedy. As far as you were aware, you were no Orpheus.

It’s like the radio all over again, yet somehow worse.

Thick, clotted air fills your lungs. Inhale and exhale. Stop yourself from getting so worked up: just inhale and exhale-

-But it’s so loud.

You have a walkie-talkie in your pocket, don’t you? How about you put it to use? That’s what it’s-

-Louder.

If she’s hurt, you’ll probably have to call-

-And louder.

You knew you shouldn-

-and louder.

“Shut up!”

All goes quiet.

After all the noise, it feels wrong.

In the blink of an eye, the class quietens, the motorway stands still, and the trees omit themselves to a vow of silence.

There’s only you. You, your flashlight, the keys and your panicked breaths. It comes out in mist-like puffs in front of your face.

You don’t remember dropping your flashlight. You don’t remember pressing your hands to your ears, either.

You take a few deep inhales. “I’m losing it. I’m absolutely losing it.” Bringing a hand to your eyes, you rub them, as if trying to dispel the lingering fingers of some sort of mania. You do it much more harshly than you really meant to. Feeling the soft tissue squish and scrape against the cavities of your skull, you hope it brings some sense back to you.

You crouch down to grasp your flashlight again. You see your face, distorted, in a puddle on the wood. With your back constantly to some sort of darkness, you feel yourself teetering on some sort of edge, standing stock still as not to fall. Still as those looming trees that pray to Gods your mind is too young to even know the name of.

A red hot blanket of indignation drapes itself over your fear for a moment. Whoever the Hell this was, whatever dim-witted asshole and their friends, was going to get an earful. Maybe even a right hook, if you were feeling ballsy.

You scan the halls up and down, keeping a careful ear for any sort of movement, any sort of amused giggle. You almost expect a TV show presenter to appear with a bunch of cameras or something. Even something as outlandish as that would ease your mind.

Anything that gives you a logical explanation as to what you just heard.

You begin to even search the walls, almost expecting to find grinning eyes staring at you from behind the rotting pipework. What an absurd thought.

Then you see something move.

It's from the corner of your eye, and you pray to see Helen, or just someone, there.

You don’t.

A chasmal wound sits before you, cracking at the edges like spindly fingers clawing their way up the walls.

Something skitters. Something dark and fat. Something with beady eyes and tiny feet.

There's droning under the floorboards. A muted thrum that, for a few seconds, only your feet can pick up.

Then you see a tail.

And a foot.

And a snout.

And you realise with horror that there is something in the walls. Something that is speaking to you.

At first, it’s as indistinguishable as ever; that same endless murmur from before as thousands of voices speak over each other.

But, slowly–like a church choir–they all come together, whispering in their whiny voices one great chant.

“We are small. We are many.”

And you finally begin to understand the words.

“We have teeth. We have tails.”

And all you can really do is stand in silent terror.

“We were here before. We will be forevermore.”

Over and over and over they repeat it: an unending mantra accompanied by chattering teeth and pattering feet.

You can’t even bring yourself to move, body completely unsure how to react. It’s like the flies; worming their way into your ears and resounding off of your skull.

There’s laughter there, too. High-pitched, shrill sniggering. Sniggering of a thousand strangers that you’re sure are mocking you.

And they just keep getting louder.

What are you even meant to do? You have to be hallucinating at this point–encouraged by a weird mix of sleep deprivation and sloping paranoia.

You feel like you’re in some type of morbid comedy, and the joke is absolutely on you.

It doesn’t take long before your synapses finally snap into action, forcing your legs forwards. It begins with a brisk walk and easily turns into a jog. You aim for the staircase, unsure whether you’ll be going up or down.

Abruptly, their chant changes, a few voices slow to catch onto the shift.

“India, Tango-”

It almost makes you stop dead in your tracks: even more confused with the seemingly random words they begin chittering.

“-Kilo, November-”

You refuse to listen, just blocking it out. No need to make yourself more fearful than you already are.

“-Oscar, Whiskey, Sierra-”

And you’re almost at the staircase, when-

SNAP.

-The floor finally collapses under your weight.

“Y/N!”

You feel your head slam against the wet, wooden flooring. For a split second, no longer than a blink, everything goes blank.

Then there’s a strain in your ankle. And water soaking into your hoodie.

And you are very much so awake.

“Γαμώτο- Y/N? Y/N! Are you alright?”

Your brain throbs underneath your sweat sheened skin. Something wet slides down your cheek, and you wonder if it's blood. Looking up, partially balanced on your hands, all you can really do is stare at Helen with a mixture of utter horror and confusion. You open your mouth. Your jaw whines like one of the doors, and you taste wood on your tongue. “What the fuck.”

She hooks her arms under your shoulders, mumbling apologies under her breath as she drags you forward like a limp corpse. Easily, your foot is freed. Back on your feet, you wipe any residue off of your hands and face with frantic fingers.

Turning and looking down, you see that your luck had quickly run out: the wood had finally broken through.

Knowing that there’s concrete under it doesn’t bring you as much comfort as you thought it would.

A cold buzz overtakes the hot pain.

“Is your foot normal? Does it hurt?”

You swing your head back around. “Where were you?”

Her face twitches in surprise, not expecting your harsh tone. “Where were you? I was asking for you to see if you wanted to go up to the next floor to see if it was like this one. I couldn’t find you so I went up to see if you were there: I came down when I heard the wood snap.”

You watch her for a moment, thinking. ‘I came down when I heard the wood’, not ‘I came down when I heard you calling for me.’

Did she…did she not hear you?

Did she not hear that?

You think your ankle should hurt a lot more than it does. You think there should be pain jumping up your leg when you put your weight down.

“I was…” Swallowing, your eyes search the floor for something you don’t know the name of. Your flashlight has skidded to the foot of the staircase. “...I was in the last apartment by the staircase.”

Her brows furrow. “Why did you not come out when I asked?”

Your mouth is dry.

You desperately want to explain it to her. Tell her you’d be calling out for her for the last who knows how long, stalking up and down the hall. Tell her that there is something in the walls and you fear they know things you’ve tried to bury. However, the moment you re-run the memories, think over how to even begin to describe what just happened, you realise you sound mad. The epitome of it.

As supportive and believing as Helen was, there was no way she was going to believe you.

“I just…”

There’d be that look on her face. It’d be there for a second, but you’d still see it. It’d be on Noah’s face when she tells him–clear as freshwater–as well.

“...got scared by some rats.”

You may be human, and it may be right to accept help when you’re hurting, but you still refuse to be seen as mad.

Sick.

Her face softens. Still somewhat annoyed–for a fair reason from her perspective–but lesser so.

Nobody likes not being believed, after all.

“Rats?”

You nod.

“I have never liked rats,” there's a smile in her eyes. You think it’s meant to comfort you. “Maybe we should leave if there’s more?”

You hope you do. You pray to Gods who have long averted their gaze from this place of endless night and thumping walls to allow you to leave.

“Hm…well, we do not scare easy, do we? We aren’t afraid of the dark or,” she pauses for a moment. You don’t know if it's for effect or not. “Rats, are we?”

Something in you wilts when you realise she’s trying to encourage you. Encourage you to go through with things. To overcome what she thinks is just a minor fear.

You spite August winds and cigarette smoke for sewing your mouth shut.

There’s an attempt at a smile underneath your mask. It doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah.”

Smoothly, her fingers intertwine with yours. She feels blisteringly warm.

“Is your foot and ankle okay?”

You can’t bring yourself to lie.

-----------------------

In all their ‘nonsensical’ murmuring, the words the Things speak do have some meaning behind it, if you look close enough.

IMPORTANT: If you, or any of your friends, are going urban exploring, and stumble upon a building like this (incredibly damp, rotting wood, mould etc.) do not enter. Please do not risk an injury, or your life, for the sake of an experience or some cool photos. Further, if you visibly see your friend get injured, actually check them over to make sure they're genuinely okay.

On note of updates: expect an update every three weeks on a Friday. If it doesn’t come then, expect it on the Saturday, and, if it doesn’t come until then, expect that I’m busy and won’t be able to update until next week. As much as I’d like to write to my heart’s content, I unfortunately don’t have all that time :’]

- Γαμώτο = Damn it

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kaybreezy3000 · 8 months

Text

The Devil Within

A Five Hargreeve / Reader insert

Five Hargreeves has not lived an easy life and no matter where he ends up, things never seem to get much better for him.

Stuck inside a body that's his but not, Five is having a hard time moving on, but sometimes all it takes to totally flip a person's view of things is one very special dark and mysterious night.

-note: female OC will remain unnamed and mostly non-descript to give this one a sort of reader insert-ish vibe.

Warnings and extra tags: sexually explicit content, mind games, a little bit of Klaus and Dolores in this one, dubious consent, violent behavior, rough sexual behavior, Dominance and Submission, dirty talking Five, daddy kink, biting, blood, mild body dysmorphia, public sex, Five has many lovey issues but he's still our sweet boy so hang tight-he's going to pull you through all sorts of emotions with this smutty story😏

(23,127 words 4 chapters total)

(Chapter 1 and 2 post)

Chapter One: Bad Boy; Good Man

It was October thirty-first. Just twenty-nine days after Five Hargreeves had the pleasure of turning what he’d estimated was the equivalent of the age of eighteen. He was stomping down a dark alleyway, hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders hunched, with his eyes staring blankly at the wet cement in front of him.

Like normal, Five wasn’t in a good mood, though there was no denying that he was doing much better than during the first October when he’d turned eighteen.

That time, he’d been thin as a rail and freezing his ass off in an early apocalyptic winter. Huddling in his improvised shelter, he had tried to get as much comfort as he could by way of cuddling up to Dolores, but her painted plastic skin was as cold and unyielding as the air around him.

All Five had wanted was to feel something good to help him through his pain, but he couldn’t even have that when faced with the grim reality around him, so he did the next best thing.

He let go and lost his mind, so he didn’t have to be alone.

Almost right away when he’d found he couldn’t get back to his family, Five had found Dolores and he’d made her his companion. He started having two-sided conversations with her to keep himself from going insane, but it wasn’t until that sad night of his eighteenth birthday that Five started to feel Dolores’s warmth for the first time, and he did after that for the next fifty-three years.

He did what he had to. He survived so he could get back.

He was sure that if he did, he could fix everything.

Turned out, he did make it home to his family but not until almost a lifetime later, and fixing things isn’t exactly what Five would call what he did. Fucking it up royal was a better way of summing up what he and his siblings did, both in their own original timeline, then again in the past when they were in Dallas, and then when they were trapped in a hell of their own making in the Sparrow’s timeline.

Now, in a new world made by Reginald, dumped with almost nothing and with no powers to help them, Five was feeling just about as desperate as he was when he was that lost little thirteen-year-old boy, alone in a burning world of death and ashes. Here he was stripped of all scars and even the tattoo he’d had since he was a child. Everything was normal; it was fixed.

But mentally he was far from fixed.

Having to move in with Klaus since he wasn’t old enough to rent on his own was Five’s best option considering he had no others, but it was a huge slap in the face for the fifty-eight-year-old, once infamous temporal assassin.

As much as Five was happy that they were alive and the world didn’t seem to be on the verge of falling apart, sometimes this new existence felt like just another punishment for all his many wrongs and this night was just another bad one that he'd rather not be having.

It was lightly misting out. As he walked along in the dark, Five’s chocolate-colored strands of hair were beading up with tiny drops of moisture.

It was damp and cold and well past ten on Halloween night, so of course that’s the night Five was forced out of his own apartment unless he wanted to continue to listen to his brother’s latest boy toy loudly moaning and groaning to the rhythm of Klaus’s headboard banging into the wall that divided their bedrooms.

As Five trudged along, dead set on finding the closest bar to drown his sorrows in, he unexpectedly heard what he thought was someone crying for help.

He looked down the alley to his right just in time to see a huge man dressed like a gorilla raising his hand at a cowering female that he’d backed up against the wall of the building.

Five watched as he dropped his furry black mask on the ground and pressed himself against the girl, crushing her with his body as he violently groped her. She closed her eyes, her mouth opening wide in a silent scream as she waited for the blow from the hand he'd raised, but luckily for her, the crack of knuckle to bone wasn’t attached to any sort of pain involving her.

When she opened her eyes, it was to a young stranger in a dark suit, standing between her and the man, his head turned to one side, forced there by the creep’s large fist.

“Get out of here!” Five yelled at her, his face turned downwards as he held a hand to it.

Then like a scene from a movie, he slowly righted his head, his green eyes flashing with anger.

“Is that all you got? Used to hitting little girls?” he seethed.

The man looked totally pissed that Five had just gotten in his way. He puffed up and retaliated by tackling him. With a good seventy pounds on the teen, he hit him like a freight train. The girl scrambled out of the way as they barreled toward her.

Five grunted as his back slammed into the building.

The guy’s fist came flying at Five’s face at about one hundred miles per hour. At the last second, he ducked, and the dipshit’s fist crashed into the brick. “Fuck!” Spit erupted from his mouth just as blood erupted from his knuckles.

While he shook his hand out, Five spun from his grasp, grabbing the man’s free arm, hitching it high behind his back. The man launched his head backward, hitting Five on the top of the head but not as hard as he would have liked being Five was shorter than him.

Releasing the girl’s attacker, Five staggered back, his eyes unfocused but still managing to see a blunt object laying a few yards away.

Sprinting for it, Five picked up the pipe, swinging it upwards just as the guy was about to throttle him from behind.

The ring of metal to skull stopped the girl’s assailant dead in his tracks.

The big creep crumbled to the wet pavement.

With his blood boiling and his body filled with adrenaline fueled rage, Five turned and started to stalk away, moving right past her, still clutching the pipe in his shaking hand.

He didn’t say a word, and the girl just stood there as if in shock wth her glittery halo crooked in her hair and the white feathers of her angel costume fluttering in the slight breeze that was moving between the buildings.

She reached out and grabbed Five’s arm, but he kept going and because of that her hand slipped down the sleeve of his suit jacket until her fingers brushed across his palm.

Five was not at all expecting her to touch him, and he was not ready for it when she latched on to him, not letting go.

Wound up like he could explode, Five spun around, verbally lashing out on her. “I’d think you’d have run off by now." The girl said nothing, so he yelled at her. "Go. Home!”

Still, she said nothing.

Her eyes seared into him.

She had the strangest look on her face; one Five couldn’t interpret and didn’t get the chance to because suddenly he was filled with extreme disorientation.

All at once, it was as if he was looking back at himself in a mirror but doing so while standing just as he was in that dimly lit alleyway.

As if that wasn’t weird enough, the man looking back at him was the real him.

Five was old again.

His face was dull looking and tired, with soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his hair was short and white, only peppered with dark shadows of what remained of his traumatic youth.

Five could even see his usual gray suit of choice and his favorite hat perched on top of his head, all paired perfectly with his neatly trimmed mustache bending with confusion as he tried to form the right words to express what he was feeling, but there was nothing that could explain it.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, looking like he was AJ Carmichael in his plastic baggie, gasping for air that was quickly running out.

"I... I-"

His stammering wasn't going to cut it, and he needed to get out of there, so Five yanked his hand back, the feel of his skin as cold as ice.

A few seconds later, stepping back onto the sidewalk on to the much brighter street, Five’s hand came up, rubbing his face, his trembling fingers lingering on his smooth upper lip.

He looked back the other way and saw the young girl dressed as an angel had disappeared. It was as if she took flight on her silly nylon coated wings, and poof, she was gone.

Weirder yet, the guy he’d just nailed on the head with the pipe was gone too.

A dizzying sensation ran through him. The damage caused by the gorilla man had left Five’s left eye starting to swell.

He needed ice and he needed to get out of there, but Five was stuck like he’d stepped in glue. He touched his fingers to the side of his face, grimacing when they brushed across the swollen socket.

Looking at the smudge of blood on his fingers that had gotten there from his split lip, Five’s mind spun. He couldn’t figure out what had just happened. Then, a rush of chilly air blowing out of the ominously dark alley swirled a tornado of leaves across the fresh spray of blood on his new dress shoes and the sight of that reminded him this wasn’t the best place to linger.

He’d just bashed a man’s skull in. That man was nowhere in sight, meaning Five hadn’t killed him, but still, he needed to go.

A couple dressed as ghosts passed by, the woman looking at Five worriedly and that helped snap him out of his bizarre state of confusion. Chalking up his moment of insanity back there to his concussed brain, Five took off again, grumbling to himself. “God, I fucking hate Halloween.”

A few blocks away and several minutes later, Five walked into a bar. Fortunately for him, since he was already sporting a nasty bruise around his left eye, most of the areas inside of the establishment were darker than it was outside. It was so dark that if not for the flicker of medieval-looking lanterns hanging about and all the strobing lights pulsing to the beat of the music, it would be nearly impossible to navigate his way through the crowd.

The place was packed with people in costumes, all crammed on the dance floor and areas around it. A couple of girls with hardly anything on were grinding on each other in raised cages, looking like some kind of goth version of beach barbies. Five gave them a dismissive glance as he made his way to the back.

This was not his idea of a good time, and it was not his preferred method of getting drunk but going home meant he’d have to deal with Klaus, so this was the next best option.

Away from the more aggressive chaos, Five sat down on a barstool that had just been vacated. Here he could see the action but not necessarily be an active part in it, and better yet, this is where the drinks were.

Even before intervening to help the girl in the alley, Five needed something hard and strong to take the edge off, but since getting hit in the face by that girl's attacker, the urge to purge his woes had increased ten-fold.

“What the fuck was I thinking,” he said under his breath.

He asked it but the reality was, Five knew very well what he’d been thinking.

He had questionable ethics. Sure… But he also had a long history of being used and abused by others. When it came to defending people that were at a disadvantage and being taken down a bad road because of it, when Five saw that happening to that young girl, it reminded him of himself, and he had to step in to stop it.

It’s not like he hadn’t hurt people before, but not like that guy looked like he was going to hurt that girl. Five had killed plenty of women for no reason other than he was ordered to by his superiors at The Commission, but he had no choice. To Five, what it looked like that guy was trying to do once he knocked that girl out was truly sick.

Five knew he was one of the bad guys, but he was better than that. At least that’s what he always tried to tell himself when it came to his propensity to overlook his many transgressions.

Just as Five’s mind was wandering back to his weird outer body experience in the alley, another young girl who shouldn’t be out on a night like this, sauntered past him, dressed as a naughty nurse.

The idea of asking her to bandage him up had Five pulling a smirk but instead of calling her over and trying to hit on her, he pulled his eyes off the tight uniform that was hardly covering her ass, he heavily sighed, then he stuffed a hand in his pant pocket and turned back to the bar.

On Halloween night, all women, young and old, got to play their slutty card with zero judgment and the men that were out got to enjoy the free show. The problem with that for Five was, he hardly felt he could do more than take advantage of the look but don't touch policy.

Even though they’d been in Reginald’s new world for over a year and upon arrival Five had been so thoughtfully given a slightly older looking body, he still looked at best the age of sixteen, hence his fuzzy math on figuring his current physical age somewhere around eighteen. When it came to pursuing relationships of the sexual kind that weren’t with inanimate objects, he was mentally closer to sixty, so add all that together and that made him the youngest old dirty perv out there, and even for him, that was a hard pill to swallow.

It’s not like he hadn’t tried to hit on women before while looking younger than this, but that never resulted in anything, and Five knew it wouldn’t. He was only doing it because he enjoyed getting a rise out of them.

Hooking up was obviously one benefit of these kinds of places and nights like this when the tramps and vamps were abundant. If Five could get past his troublesome age hangups, he was physically legal now and he would definitely not be opposed to some meaningless sex that a one-night stand would provide him, but tonight, all he wanted to do was escape Klaus and escape life by way of good old-fashioned intoxication.

Eyes on the lit-up shelves of liquor behind the bar, Five called out his order to the man in front of him who had been giving him the side eye since he’d sat down. “Give me a shot of Jack and keep them coming.”

The bartender gave him a look. “Seriously?”

“I’m not joking," he curtly responded, then added, "You can really do me a favor and put it on ice if you really want to make it special. Then make the next one poured straight."

The tall man with black eyeliner and a mesh shirt that was draped in chains eyed Five up and down a few times, but despite his lack of ID and his beaten-up appearance, clearly the hundred-dollar bill he'd just laid down and his pricy looking tailored suit were enough to satisfy him that he was close enough to legal drinking age to be there.

“Don’t bleed all over my bar or puke on my floor, little man,” he warned before pouring Five his drink and his next shot, then setting them down in front of him.

Just as Five had drained his ice filled cup and placed the cool glass against his aching eye socket, he felt something skate across the top of his head and then a pair of hands travel up his back.

Reactively jerking his shoulders as his hand moved up to inspect his hair, Five turned to see a very pretty blonde smiling at him as she stood next to Klaus.

Five’s grumpy looking pout turned downright sour.

“Great,” he groaned. “And here I thought you were staying home tonight.”

Holding what looked like their kitchen broom topped with tin foil to make it look like a shepherd’s hook, Klaus’s glittery blue painted lips spread from ear to ear. “Yeah, well… I changed my mind. It's Halloween and staying home on Halloween is for losers.”

Klaus’s smile faltered the longer he looked at his younger-looking brother.

“Did you get in a fight?”

Five’s fingers continued to feel around on his head, finally poking at the pointed horns Klaus had slipped into his ruffled mane. “Yes, I got in a fight and to answer your next question, I won. And to end this lovely conversation, you can take these back,” he said, starting to pull the devil headband off.

Klaus sprung forward, pushing the shimmering black horns back into place. “I can’t let you be the only one here who is not in costume,” he argued.

Swatting Klaus’s hand away, Five knocked back his next shot then dryly retorted, “I am in costume. I am a retired homicidal maniac.”

“I know you are, Fivey, and that is why you make the perfect little devil boy.”

That comment about his age and small stature only made Five feel even less friendly. Putting on an overly sweet smile, making himself look even more the part of the fiend who was dressed to kill in his fancy new psycho suit, he sniggered then said. “I left tonight to get away from you and your boyfriend, so do me a favor and please leave me alone. I am trying to get shit faced in this fine establishment just like the responsible adult I am, and I don’t give two shits about Halloween, and I never have.”

Klaus frowned. “Hey, man. Jake is not my boyfriend, he’s my fuck friend and he had to go to work, so I got bored,” he corrected.

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever…” Klaus defended. “Maybe I wouldn’t need to have people over all the time if you hung out with me more. It gets lonely there with you hiding out in your room, reading your nerdy stuff or playing hanky-panky, hide your wanky with Dolores.”

Five lowered his chin, glowering at his brother. “I only moved in with you because I had too. Since I am legally an adult now, I think our cohabitation arrangement has ceased to serve any valid purpose other than giving you someone to annoy.”

Five perked up, his eyes widening as his head dropped to the side.

“Oh, and what I do in my bedroom is my business,” he hissed, “-and furthermore, by the sounds I heard coming from your bedroom, you are hardly lonely, so don’t give me that let’s go find the next big ball of string shit.”

After chewing Klaus out, Five finally took in the full glory of what his brother was wearing. Totally blown away by the sight of it, his head cocked to the side even more, and he scrunched his face at him.

“Klaus, what the hell are you supposed to be?”

Loving that Five seemed to forget that he was still wearing the devil’s horns he’d adorned him with, Klaus further distracted him by playfully bonking his shoulder with his shepherd’s hook.

Again, Five swatted him off, which was entirely Klaus’s intention to begin with, then totally disregarding Five’s increasing state of twitchy itchiness, he proudly twirled around in his frilly blue dress and even added little curtsy to top it off.

“I am Little Bo Peep. Isn’t it obvious?” he explained, his tone clear that his pretty ensemble should require no explanation.

Five’s bewildered expression melted back into his customary dry smirk. “Uh-huh…” he muttered just before he threw back his next round of Jack.

Even though Five had hardly bat an eye at Klaus’s friend, as he tried to turn back around to dismiss them, she proceeded to snake up to him, sliding a finger through one of his belt loops.

Five took one look down at her hand at his hip, then he narrowed his eyes at her. “Excuse me, Miss? Not sure you are aware, but you are invading my personal space.”

Not seeing the problem, the woman, dressed in a skintight catsuit, erupted in a bubble of laughter as she gave Five’s dress pants a little tug.

“You are right, he is cute,” she said to Klaus before leaning closer to Five with the sting of alcohol on her breath hitting him so strongly it made his eyes burn enough that he had to blink the fumes away.

Despite how drunk she was and how aggravated he was getting, Five couldn’t help that his eyes flicked down to the mounds of her huge breasts spilling out of her velvety top. Momentarily unable to think of anything other than burying his face in her dirty pillows, his tongue slowly ran over his teeth and his mind went all sorts of naughty places.

With the hand he still had in his pocket nudging his dick into a position that would be less embarrassing for him if he inadvertently let his eyes linger any longer, Five looked back up again, his disinterest still evident in the hard line of his mouth as he posed the question, “Am I supposed to be happy that you think I am cute?”

Only after hearing that did Klaus’s friend look a little hurt, but that didn’t mean she removed her fingers from his pants or that she moved her body away from Five’s backside.

“Klaus told me you might like a little company…” she dangled.

“Did he?” Five mumbled, flagging the bartender for another.

As he set down Five's next shot, Five turned and requested a bottle of water as well.

About this time, seeing as Klaus was misinterpreting his slick plan to get Five laid as a done deal, the older looking Hargreeves started back peddling himself out into the crowd, easily disappearing in the lights and bodies moving to the electronic music thrumming through the bar.

Cat lady wiggled her butt, swishing her tail behind her provocatively. “What do you say, want to have some fun? I am really good company…”

“I am going to have to say no. I am all good on company, thank you,” Five returned, then picked up his next shot, flipping it back down the hatch as he shifted his weight forward on the bar stool to try to dislodge her hand from his waist.

Undeterred and obviously too drunk to read her own name let alone pick up on what Five was laying down, she squeezed in next to him, her thighs rubbing up on the side of his leg as her other hand fell in his lap, tickling down between his legs.

“I want you,” she purred.

“I am flattered but I am not interested, but lucky you, that guy over there probably is,” Five noted, tipping the shot glass dangling from his finger at the guy behind her that her cat tail endowed butt was ramming into.

“Awwww, but Klaus said you don’t get out much.” She tried to bat her eyes, but it came off more like she was having a stroke rather than sexy. “He told me this kind of thing is exactly what you need to work through all your demons.”

She rolled her body against Five.

Five straightened his back as he cleared his throat. “Darling, no amount of sex is going to exercise my demons and as much as I’d like to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to see straight for weeks, I have a meeting in the morning,” he effortlessly lied, trying to give her a gentler brush off.

To that, her face lit up excitedly. “It doesn’t have to take long. Klaus told me you are a virgin, so I am sure it won’t. If you want, I can suck you off in the ladies’ room, and later back at your place I can help relieve you of that other little virgin problem,” she dangled, her fingers getting even more frisky.

“As tempting as that sounds…” Five gently peeled her fingers from his pants. “Here,” he said, putting the bottle of water in her hands. “Drink this and go dance. I’ll catch up with you another night.”

“Are you sure?”

As warm and buzzed as Five was starting to feel thanks to the whiskey burning him from the inside out, his old voice of reason wouldn’t be deterred.

This girl did not know who he really was or what he was capable of, and even considering her offer the tiny amount he was, was making him think it was time to go about ten minutes ago.

She was pretty. Young. Probably twenty-five or maybe a little older, she was lost perhaps, and insecure and very drunk. Five might be a fucked-up prick, but he wasn’t such an asshole that he going to shit on the kid’s feelings because he wasn’t into this. After all, maybe if it wasn’t Halloween, and maybe if she wasn’t doing this because of Klaus putting her up to it, and if she was someone older but not too old that it made it even weirder, Five would have said yes. Looking so young and lacking when it came to social graces, Five knew that he should be grateful for someone willing to look past all that. But…

“I am sure,” he calmly repeated, again ordering her to drink the water as he authoritatively pointed a finger towards the dance floor.

The girl looked smitten by his bossy behavior, but finally getting that Five meant business and not the business she was hoping for, she said, “Thank you. And...just so you know, I still think you are cute.”

Then the kitty danced away on unsteady legs that Five was having a twinge of regret not having wrapped around him as he tried his best to fuck her pussy through the metal wall of one the bar's bathroom stalls.

Even though she was very inebriated and probably only did what she did because of his brother, the girl’s minority opinion of him had a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Holy shit did that girl have daddy issues,” he breathily mused.

Shaking his head and thinking about how much fun it would have been to be her ‘daddy’ for the night, Five paid his tab, then slipped past the dance floor, looking for signs of Klaus, but not seeing him.

He wondered where he’d ended up; whose bed he’d be landing in tonight, but really it didn’t matter so long as he didn’t bring back his conquest to their place because that would mean Five would have to sleep with ear plugs in and a pillow over his head all night.

As Five was midway to the door, he felt someone watching him. He stopped, cautiously surveying his surroundings.

He didn't see any threats but one of the dancers caught his eye. She was a hot little number. Slightly shorter than him, with soft looking hair and a white feathery skirt that covered her ass and not much more.

Despite her attire, she was dancing alone and appeared perfectly content that way. Five couldn't see her face but her body language said it all. She was dancing for herself and no one else, and that made it damn sexy.

When she finally turned to face him, Five stopped breathing, his fists clenching at his sides as the flashing lights lit up her sparkly halo.

She was the angel girl from the alley, and she was dancing with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her angelic looking face.

It made no sense after what had almost happened to her that she’d be there.

In his periphery Five could see that two sleazy looking coyotes were circling her, trying to figure out how to slip in for the kill. As pissed as he was that she clearly hadn’t listened to him and gone home, he still wasn’t about to let them get to her before he took another bite out of her first.

He bolted through the crowd and slipped into the tiny empty space between her and one of the approaching stalkers, placing one hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes flashed open and for a second and they seemed to glimmer with unnatural light, but Five quickly waved it off, assuming it was the glare from one of the laser lights flipping around.

“You’d think with what happened to you earlier, you’d prefer hanging out somewhere a little less dangerous? Like at home since it’s past your bedtime.”

“I could say the same to you,” she said, her smile as sassy as his words.

Five bit down his ire and gave her an overly sweet smile of his own. “You know that you have a couple of new predators stalking you,” he told her, indicating the two men sulking at the edge of the dance floor.

She turned to look at them. “And you thought you’d rush to protect me, again?”

She rolled her body with the music, their proximity so close that she was forcing Five to mimic the movement of her hips to keep from stumbling like an uncoordinated idiot.

“Something like that," he quickly shot back, "or maybe I thought the look of my beat-up face might remind you that you are luring in all the sickos again."

One of her eyebrows lifted just a little. “I am sorry about your face but are you trying to imply that you’re less of a predator?” Her hand brushed across Five’s chest as her eyes slowly ran over him. “Because… You look like the devil to me.”

Five’s hand moved from her shoulder to the small of her back, pulling her close. “Angel," he deeply growled, "I am one hundred percent a predator, but trust me, unlike with them, you’ll like it when I eat you.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him.

The gesture might have been dismissive, but her body language was anything but. She closed the minuscule distance between them, keeping her body pressed against Five’s as she took control of the dance they were doing, guiding him with a suggestive sway of her hips and her hands gliding across his shoulder blades.

Five did not like to dance and only did so when he was shit faced wasted, but he was buzzed and she moved like liquid silk, luring his body to forget it had bones.

As strange as it was, Five would have been content to stay there with her, just dancing and flirt fighting the rest of the night, but then the song shifted to a more bass laden sounding tune, and noting Five’s discomfort, the girl took his hand and led him from the dance floor.

Her cool hand felt so good wrapping around his hot fingers, that alone was enough to make him follow but then she said, “Come on, handsome. You saved me, so I think that means I should at least buy you a drink.”

Five had known many compelling women but this little seductress leading him along had a very different kind allure about her and only part of that was in how she was so boldly handling him. Sure, Five had swagger, and probably a dictionary full of as many slights as he did pick up lines if he chose to deploy them, but there was something about the way this girl looked at him that made him feel sexier than he’d ever felt.

In a matter of minutes, Five had forgotten why he’d felt the need to confront her or protect her from the other men in the bar. Her face spoke of youthful innocence but everything else about her said differently and Five wanted to take care of her as much as he wanted to do very bad things to her.

Five knew something wasn’t right about that, but he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Just like in the alley, he felt outside himself, only this time not necessarily in a bad way.

Chapter Two: The Devil's Advocate

After receiving their drinks, the girl took a sip, then gave Five a kittenish look that made his heart beat a little faster than it already was.

Though the girl was getting to him, Five did his best to feign indifference as he smiled back. “What happened to your wings,” he questioned as he looked at her shimmery white outfit while trying not to linger too inappropriately long on the tempting curves of her body.

“I parted ways with them because they were itchy,” she said with a pretty but sad sounding laugh. “Like you, I am more of a fallen angel type, so I fear the illusion I was trying to play off wasn't working that well anyway.”

Silence filled the space between them and Five looked down at the pink drink in his hand, his dark eyelashes fanning over his alcohol flushed cheeks.

“That bruising you’ve got going on really brings out your eyes,” she teased, reaching up to adjust Five's hair so everyone would be able to better see his two pointy devil horns.

Again, he'd totally forgotten that he was wearing the horns and since the girl seemed to be enjoying them, Five decided to leave them on as he huffed a little self-depreciating laugh of his own, then he sipped his matching fruity cocktail and said, “That's great. Just what I was hoping for when I threw my face in front of that gorilla's fat fist.”

Being the perfect flirt she'd been since Five spotted her on the dance floor, the girl giggled at his grouchy response.

Not sure what to think of this young stranger’s forward behavior with him, Five gave her a sidelong glance.

She sat on her barstool, swirling the ice around in her glass with the glowing straw. Since it was even more crowded than when he had been over there before, Five didn’t sit, but leaned on the bar as he cautiously watched her. Thanks to the booze flowing through him, he felt at ease, but yet not at all, and that contradiction was making it hard for him to let his guard down enough to fully enjoy the girl's surprisingly not horrible company.

“If that hurts too much, I might be able to help,” she offered, clearly referring to his busted eye socket and swollen lip.

Five gave her a hard look. “And how would you help?”

“I’d take you somewhere private and I’d find a way to make you feel better. I owe you and I always pay my debts.”

Five frowned. “Am I missing something or are you looking to get yourself into trouble again?”

“You aren’t missing anything.” She flashed her teeth, her smile so innocent looking that again it was impossible to ignore that she was way too young for him to be checking out in the way he was.

Forcing his eyes off the barely legal eye candy next to him, Five pulled up his cuff to check his watch, noting it was after midnight.

“Like I said before. I would have thought you’d have gone home or called the police to report that guy, not continued with your evening like nothing happened," he challenged as he hesitantly glanced back up then even more firmly added, "Please don't take this the wrong way, but coming into places like this where losers lurk around every corner isn't a very bright idea."

“What if I said that those kinds of losers were exactly what I was looking for before I found myself and even better catch?”

“I’d say you are fucked up,” Five replied, trying to laugh off her weird rebuttal, but as her hand came up and lingered near the knot of his tie, he stopped laughing and apprehensively asked, “What are you doing?”

“I am helping you.”

“I don’t need help,” Five sharply retorted, his smile beginning to melt away as a hard line drew between his eyes. He set his drink down, readying himself to scold her like an angry parent does a teenager. “I don’t understand why you are at a bar. There is no way you are twenty-one."

As he should have guessed, based on his own appearance, the girl looked very amused by him trying to put her in her place and that only irritated him even more.

“We have quite a bit in common and one of those things is me being older than I look," she said, simpering back at him. "Also like you, if I want something, I have my ways of getting it." She began to softly run her fingers up the back of Five’s suit coat, then to the back of his neck with tender strokes, teasing the ends of his hair.

The sensation felt so foreign yet so comforting that Five reactively shut his eyes for a moment before quickly opening them again, only now they were filled with alerted suspicion, not the droopy look of contentment he had just so easily given himself over to.

“I don’t think you should be touching me like that,” he cautioned.

The girl looked unconvinced as she leaned into his ear, her cool breath adding to the tickling feel of her fingers splaying through the back of his hair as her nails delicately scratched his scalp in a way that made him want to drool it felt so damn wrong but good. Both feelings mixed, overwhelming Five as wonderful shivers shot up and down his spine.

Unable to fight it, he shut his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself to this.

“Oh, I think touching you like this is exactly what you need,” she shushed as she watched him helplessly falling apart. “On top of that, I am not used to such interesting gentlemen like yourself stepping in to right the wrongs of this world for me. Meeting you was a refreshing encounter, and you make me wonder if this thing we have could be more than..."

As she pushed back away from him, Five opened his heavy eyes. The girl's smile was borderline silly as she rolled her eyes around as if thinking really hard about what she was about to say but then she baffled him even more when didn't say a word. Further messing with him, she looked at him again, then plucked the cherry from her glass and began twirling it between her luscious looking red lips.

It was more than clear to Five that she was toying with him but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t eagerly eating it up as he hungrily watched her every move and melted more and more with every sweet touch, she so willingly gave him.

“Wondering if we could what?” he anxiously asked when he lifted his gaze from her mouth to meet her mesmerizing eyes again.

She said nothing, and his own eyes glazed over with raw desire and something much darker and harder to quench.

Five’s hand suddenly clamped down onto her leg, midway between her knee and her hip.

Holding his breath, he looked down. He couldn’t believe he’d put his hand on her like that, but it was there, and it was in a very intimate spot.

“It’s okay. I want you to touch me,” she soothed.

Five’s mind filled with all sorts of other things he’d like to be doing to her and touching her only there was just the tip of that iceberg of things he craved.

Heart racing, his gaze rose to her mouth again, lingering on her teeth that were studding into her lower lip.

Five moved in closer, his hand slowly inching higher.

As the girl parted her legs for him, for the third time that night, Five felt as if he was having an outer body experience.

As if her doing that wasn’t temptation enough, a voice in his mind was telling him not to stop, and it was doing it so loudly it was all he could hear.

His hand slid upwards, reaching the top of the girl’s thigh, high up under her skirt where her hip joint met her leg.

Five brought his body closer still, clearing any space left between them as her knees pressed to the insides of his legs, but remained pointed towards the bar, hiding what he was doing to her.

“Number Five, I know what you want to do,” she sweetly sang, almost so quietly and hypnotically that he thought he might have imagined it.

Five hardly thought it was possible that this little vixen next to him had any clue of the things he wanted to do to her but then she proved him wrong.

“You want to make me come, right here while I am sitting on this bar stool,” she said, calling him out without an ounce of doubt.

“Fuck,” Five coarsely muttered.

His fingers as if having a mind of their own brushed across the cool wetness that was soiling her panties. Five's body ached with yearning that was only worse from the feel of that, but his mind suddenly and very painfully kicked back in as if he was just hit upside the head.

As the lights from the dance floor scattered a rainbow across his face, he felt lightheaded and that had him frantically starting to question what was happening to him.

Five jerked back, but he didn't remove his hand and that was because he felt he couldn't; almost like something was mentally blocking his nervous system from doing what his brain was ordering it to do.

He was trapped.

Unfazed by his state of confusing, the girl reached down as her hand gently explored the smooth cotton that was covering his taut torso. She kept smiling as her fingers walked downward and then below the waistband of his dress pants. Five fought to think clearly, and pull away again, but her grip tightened around the top of the black wool fabric and she said, “Come on, lady killer. I am ready for you…”

“You said my name... But I didn’t tell you my name,” Five whispered as he started to panic.

The girl’s eyes were locked on Five’s slightly parted lips, and they flickered with that same eerie light he’d seen in them on the dance floor, only this time, he was sure it wasn’t the pulsing lights making them look so otherworldly.

Running her fingers along the sharp angle of Five’s jaw, she only enchanted him further with what she said next.

“Five, I know who you are, and I think you are beautiful. Because of that, I am going to give you something you can’t seem to find on your own, and just so you know, I’d want to give it to you even if you were still outwardly that sad but sweet looking old man you have living inside your head. You are special, and your real age has nothing to do with it.”

“What are you?” Five asked, now sure that the woman next to him wasn’t at all the angel she appeared to be.

Again, she flashed him her pretty smile but this time Five noticed her somewhat elongated incisors looked very sharp.

Five was stunned; his mind felt foggy, but the fear building in him kept trying to push through the haze.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” she hushed him with her index finger softly tracing the line of his mouth, stopping before it graced the painful looking split on his lower lip.

Five was frozen in place as the girl’s icy looking eyes darkened and she said, “Like you, I may be a predator, but I assure that you’ll like how I bite.”

The girls’ legs nudged his, wordlessly inviting Five to proceed where he’d left off.

As if drawn to her like they were surrounded by opposite magnetic fields, Five reactively positioned his body even more so in such a way that casual observers would never know what he was doing.

With his hand still up the girl’s skirt, Five’s thumb hesitantly rubbed over her sex.

Five said nothing as he softly touched her, his fingers gliding under the silky fabric as his eyes remained locked to hers.

If the bartender came by them, he’d know exactly what was happening but Five couldn't bring himself to care about that or anything other than her.

The way she was touching him and the things she kept saying to him were all making the crotch of his pants so sinfully tight. That alone was making it hard to think straight but Five knew something was wrong, only he couldn’t bring himself to stop, not when wrong felt so fucking right and his brain kept shorting out.

Driven by unimaginable longing, Five came closer, his lips a mere inch from tasting her. “You may think you know me, but I assure you, you are meddling in things you don't understand,” he darkly warned, then he started to rub harder alongside the small nub of flesh between her legs.

The more his thumb circled her clit, the harder it seemed it was for her to resist rolling her hips against his touch and that empowered Five even more.

He felt like he was coming back to himself, but it was too late. He wasn't going anywhere.

“Beg me to fuck you,” he hotly whispered in her ear, giving her exactly what she wanted but denying himself nothing.

“Please. Plea-”

Not satisfied, Five upped his pace.

“Fff-uck- Fff-”

To his delight, she couldn’t finish her breathy hum of 'f' words. The girl dropped her head to Five’s shoulder, her lips brushing past the side of his cheek on the way there.

He tucked his chin against her temple as if in a lover's embrace.

The feeling of her body being so chilly compared to his enflamed skin instantly reminded Five of how it felt when he was fucking Dolores. That thought and the girl’s immediate obedience that matched that of his beloved, were making his dick so hard it felt like it might rip out of his pants.

Aware of his growing problem, the girl started slowly palming the bulging fabric between his legs.

Five’s head rolled back on his shoulders and a low groan came crawling out of his throat that fortunately was drowned out by the heavy rumble of the bass pulsating through the bar.

“What if someone comes by?” he hissed through his teeth as he tried to focus more on what his fingers were doing than on how good his dick felt in her hand.

“If they know, that just makes this all the hotter,” she breathed against his neck.

Hell yes, it did.

The thought of some stranger catching him fingering her and her not caring was driving Five’s mind crazy and that made waves of heat surge straight to his loins.

She wanted him to fuck her and Five wanted to do that more than ever. A deep tightening in his stomach was filling him with visions of dumping his load all over her, just like he liked to do with Dolores when he was in the mood to really shock her.

That wasn’t happening but he was still fucking this girl and just as Five was wishing his hand had more room to move, the girl’s legs drifted further apart.

To that, Five swiftly slid another finger under her panties and straight into her with no warning, causing them both to moan from the venereal tightness of the sensation. Reveling in the feeling of being inside of a real woman’s body for the first time ever, Five’s thumb continued to rub the girl’s clit, and her wet skin directly against his own was making him want to rip the rest of her clothes off and spread her wide as he could so he could bury his face where his fingers were.

Five’s body was blocking his finger pumping in and out of the girl, but when he caught sight of the bartender, who had a slightly different view than the rest of the bar, he returned Five's look of dismayed lechery with a curious looking smile, making it look like he knew exactly what was going on but didn’t seem inclined to interrupt the young devil angel combo that were actively getting off in front of his bar.

“You are such a bad boy, Five,” she whispered as her cool breath tickled his ear and her compliments continued. “You so fucking hot, I wanted you the moment I saw you.” She nipped at his ear, her teeth grazing the shell. “Fuck, I want to taste you,” she prettily growled, and to that, she did taste him, letting her tongue move up his neck before she softly kissed the slight protrusion of his Adam's apple.

As she continued to rub her hand over the fabric covering Five’s confined cock, he wanted to return her compliments but the only thing that would come out of his mouth if he opened it was going to be a moan, so he bit the side of his cheek instead and kept at it, fucking the girl with his fingers thrusting in and out of her slicked hole.

“Oh yes, Ah-Ffff !” she cried.

Her agitated sounds of delight continued as she pulled at the top of Five’s pants, dragging his hips in so his erection came up against the side of her knee.

Not even questioning it, Five automatically started moving himself against her, humping her with an unforgiving pace. To him, it felt almost exactly like he'd done it some many times with Dolores, and because of that, Five couldn’t help but let his tortured mind slip back to that comforting place of unconditional love that he always had with her.

Now he was safe. That quiet voice in the back of his mind screaming at him that something was wrong went silent.

In his mind, as he pressed himself against the girl, he created the image of Dolores. He could even feel the sensation of his hand holding the familiar shape of Dolores’s rigid fingers. It felt so real that Five could even hear her telling him that she loved him, and not thinking, he whispered it right back.

Dolores’s hand tightened around his, her lips softly kissing his neck again.

Five gasped. The world felt like it was slanting on its axis and he was about to fall off, and that startled him right out of his fantasy.

The seductress held him tight, not letting him move away. “It’s okay, Five. You can pretend I am her. I don’t mind."

Five’s eyes went wider and then even wider when her fingers abandoned his, then brushed through a gap between his shirt buttons, searching through the slits until she found his navel.

She tickled her fingers around under his clothes, pushing them down the very fine line of hair trailing downwards. He all out spasmed when she found the tip of his cock where he'd tucked it to keep it hidden but was now overhanging his belt because he'd gotten so hard.

The little angel’s finger swirled around the surge of wetness that had formed at his tip, while her other hand squeezed his where he had it digging into her thigh.

All at once, Five's mind was filled with more reassurances and words of love, only now they were not in the voice of Dolores.

With those sharp white teeth pinning her plump lower lip, the girl collected the fluid, then brought it back up to her mouth, licking it as she gazed back at Five in the most sinful way.

To add to Five’s shock, the girl reached back down and started rubbing her thumb up and down the underside of his cockhead, causing him to go weak in the knees.

Five’s mouth burst open, and his words flew out of him. “Oh my god! I know you are inside my head, but I don’t fucking care. I want to be inside you so fucking bad. I want to destroy you. I could fuck you through that wall right fucking now!”

“Ah-hah… That again,” she giggled. “Twice in a matter of an hour you've had that fun idea. You seem to love the idea of fucking people through walls, don't you, Five." This time her taunting was followed by a provocative nip at Five’s lower lip, her teeth scraping over the tender tear in his pink flesh.

Five felt like he was dying. His heart felt like it might leap right out of his chest.

When the wicked cherub seducing him pulled back, letting his lip go, Five let out a small, whimpered plea. “Please kiss me.”

Five watched the girl’s red lips happily spread as she leaned back in, slowly letting her mouth mold to his.

Five didn’t know what he was doing, but he’d kissed Dolores millions of times, so he thought about that, but let the girl take the lead for him because this was so much more than that.

The girl was being so soft with him, not at all mimicking the pace of his fingers viciously pumping inside her. Her skin on his was pure ecstasy but when she prodded his lips to part, it was all new territory. The gentle lashes of her tongue teasing his had Five feeling desperate and he immediately pushed for more.

Hand on the back of her neck, Five drove his mouth harder into hers, letting out a soft sound like his soul was breaking.

He felt consumed by the taste of her, and the rhythm of his hand slowed almost to a stop, but only for a second before he picked it back up again and then everything picked up speed.

If the music wasn’t so loud, Five was sure that the sound of the girl’s wanton moans and the sound of his fingers squelching inside her would be heard by everyone around them. As it was, there was no hiding the small thrust of his hips as he fucked her leg like the horny devil he was.

Their kiss had turned deep and wild, and the fresh cut on his lip was throbbing but it felt almost as good as her finger that was still playing with the bloom of his cock.

When she broke their kiss, feverishly panting, her lips traveled across Five’s neck, softly kissing below his ear with icy hot breaths.

He couldn’t take it anymore. She felt like Dolores, or better yet, like he wanted to believe Dolores felt.

He yanked the girl’s head back, forcing her mouth to drop open.

Now he saw that her teeth weren’t just sharper than normal, now her canines were dangerously elongated.

He hadn’t imagined it the first time he'd seen it. Five wanted to say so many things, but he didn’t and couldn't. He eyed her blood red lips for only a second before he crushed them with his own again.

Five had never kissed anyone before this. He had never had the nerve to. He had never trusted anyone enough to let himself go in this way. He had no reason to trust this girl and she was clearly not all she appeared, but after a lifetime alone, he was finally getting the chance to have this and for some reason all his worries felt like they didn’t matter anymore.

Five had believed himself damaged beyond repair and that no one would want him if they knew who he really was, and if they did, it would be for all the wrong reasons, but when this girl saw him from the inside, she still had said he was beautiful…

She started to gasp for air again, her lips moving against the side of Five's mouth. Knowing he had her right where he wanted, and not wanting to let up, Five covered the skin under her ear with wet kisses and daring little bites.

“Oh, Fi-vvve,” she keened, her hips pushing against his hand each time he pumped his fingers into her.

Wanting to make her cry out his name again, Five curved his fingers up, dragging them in and out.

A flood of unintelligible words spilled from the girl’s mouth as her fingernails scratched the skin on the back of his neck.

“OH! FFFfff-uuuck!” she cried.

Not wanting to draw even more attention than they already had even though he was loving this, Five immediately covered the girl’s mouth again with his, smothering her cries as he slid his tongue in, tasting her like he was starving.

The girl’s body started to tremble around Five’s fingers, the feel of it impossible for him not to notice.

She was trying to return Five’s ferocious kiss but was failing and he was in heaven just listening to the beautiful sound of her fighting him.

When Five felt that the pulsing flutter of her body around his fingers had eased to almost nothing again, it was as if the lights got turned back on and the music turned way down.

Suddenly feeling like a spotlight had been thrown on him and like he’d been drugged and was coming down from the high, Five slowed his hips to a stop.

Despite his bizarrely uncharacteristic level of blind trust unraveling by the second, Five was still careful to keep a steadying hand on the girl and keep her covered as he withdrew his hand.

She met his confused gaze, looking totally blown away as her fingers that had been clinging onto his tie instead came to the nap of his neck, softly stroking his hair again.

“What did you do to me?” The question came out of Five sounding both scared and so full of anger that the girl looked taken aback by it.

“Only what you had wanted,” she defended.

“I didn’t ask to be fucked with. Get out of my head!” he shakily snarled back.

Her voice came out so unwavering entrancing that it hit him physically. "I am not going to hurt you, Five. It’s okay. Come back to me. I promise it’s going to be okay if you do.”

Blinking slowly, Five shook his head, trying to wake himself up. In less than a few seconds, even though he intended to, he couldn't let the girl go.

“That’s it, Five,” she soothed as he started to look back at her in awe, rather than filled with venomous hostility.

She smiled with relief as Five hand started to lovingly stroke the inside of her thigh.

“You are so gorgeous unreal and I just... I have been wanting to do that for a very long time,” he quietly admitted while forming the most boyishly charming grin that it made the girl trapping him in her arms look at a loss for a moment.

“You’ve been wanting to finger me...for a very long time? But we just met?” she teased, followed by a laugh, that made the dimple in Five’s cheek grow even deeper.

“I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss someone who could kiss me back,” he coolly corrected.

“So, I was wrong," she dangled as she smoothed out the length of his shiny tie, her eyes purposefully getting wider the second her hand fleetingly passed over Five's cock again. "You weren’t thinking about getting your hands up my skirt so we could have a moment of shared public debauchery?”

Five lifted his hand to his mouth and nonchalantly tasted his fingers. “Mmm…” he hummed as he tilted his head to the side and his other hand naughtily grazed over the wet fabric between her legs. “I wanted to do that too,” he admitted with an air of playful confidence coming back to him.

Totally taken by the angel's spell again and feeling like he didn't have a care in the world, Five subtly rolled his hard length against her leg to the beat of the music.

“I think there’s more you want to do,” she said, giggling at him.

“What is your name?” Five suddenly asked, his hopeful eyes filled with emotion much deeper than his lust.

“It won’t matter after this,” she whispered just before her lips were on his.

Before he could even consider why it wouldn't matter, like before, her kiss tasted like a fruity paradise and Five wanted to drown in it. It was all teeth and tongue and madness, but then all at once, a metallic taste filled his mouth. He tried to pull back, but he couldn’t. The unpleasant flavor grew stronger, and the girl kissed him harder, her teeth locking down on his bottom lip as he moaned out of the sheer intensity of blinding pleasure hitting him and in pure terror and for what he didn’t even know any more.

Her kiss was consuming him, it was too much, but then the bloody iron like flavor abated and Five was suddenly swallowing something much colder and almost bittersweet tasting.

It tasted like nothing he'd ever known but he hungrily tried to get more. He kissed the girl back even harder than he already was. Five’s heart hammered in his chest and his body sizzled with heat so strong that he thought he might spontaneously combust.

Then it stopped.

He was standing there at the bar; the music so loud it was deafening. The girl was holding both his hands in hers as a curious smile graced her stained lips.

Five blinked a few times.

What the hell was going on?

He felt…

Actually, he wasn’t actually sure what he was feeling, other than he felt better than he ever had, and all he wanted was to kiss her like that again.

~~~~~~

A few moments later, Five had stripped off his suit jacket and was tossing it on a purple lounge couch in a private room that the girl was able to acquire with a mere nod of her head towards the bartender.

After scanning the small room, he turned to the girl, his eyes running up and down as she approached him.

Coming at him hard, her hands landed on Five’s chest, pushing him backwards until he was cornered with the back of his legs against the couch.

“What are you waiting for?" she taunted. "I thought you wanted to fuck me through a wall, and I am pretty sure that I see one right here that should do the trick." She slowly moved her gaze to the busy looking wallpaper to their right as if he didn't know what wall she was talking about.

With a devious smile spreading, Five goaded the girl right back. “Angel, before the night is over, I will be killing that tight little pussy of yours by nailing it through a wall or just railing the fuck out of it any damn place I see fit.” Five shamelessly palmed the crotch of his pants as he added, “But first, this devil wants to use his demon dick to have a different kind of fun with you.”

The girl looked honestly shocked for the first time by something Five had said to her and that made him very happy.

He quickly undid the metal fastening of his belt, and then undid his pants.

She was speechless.

As she already had felt, Five was not small, but now his tight black boxer briefs were leaving very little to imagination. He looked utterly adorable standing there with his pants down and his slim fit dress shirt untucked but doing nothing to cover how much he wanted her.

With a steady hand pressing down on the girl’s shoulder, Five encouraged the girl to sink to her knees.

He confidently stood above her, the only tell that he wasn’t as sure of himself as he looked was the slight tremble of anticipation running through his body as he took her halo, throwing it back behind her.

Sliding a hand down, Five pushed his underwear down, freeing his stiff cock.

The girl let out a little whimper.

Feeling pretty damn proud, Five grabbed a wad of her hair, then sharply pulled her head, pushing the girl closer to his body.

“My turn, angel,” he tauntingly sang with misleadingly boyish play in his voice.

She licked her lips then opened her mouth around him, her tongue leisurely tracing up the veins covering his engorged shaft.

After only one pass, the girl stopped to gauge Five’s reaction.

The moment he locked eyes with the girl, she wrapped her lips around him again and Five was quick to push her down without warning, forcing her to gag around him as she struggled and gasped for air.

Smirking, Five let her sit that way, letting her adjust as he let out an unavoidable low groan over that sinful act of cruelty. His fingers played with the girl’s silky hair, petting her even if it was a degrading form of encouragement. Doing as he pleased, Five refused to adjust the pressure he was putting on the back of her throat, but for some reason, it felt okay to being doing this, just like she said it would.

With a small nod of approval from him for her quick submission, Five reached down, requesting the girl give him her hands. She did, then he proceeded to place them palm down on his thighs. Taking her hair again, Five allowed the girl to move freely, bobbing her head up and down, mostly working his tip with her tongue.

Her eyes fluttered and her nails gently dug into Five’s slouched pants as he started to rock her head back and forth over him again, making his dick disappear in her wet mouth. Holding her the way he was, with her head titled back, her throat open and lined up perfectly, it allowed Five deep penetration and a view he'd only ever seen in porn and the sight and the feel of it was making his already heavy cock feel like it might truly choke her if he got anymore turned on.

“If it’s too much let me know,” he said, clearly indicating that she should push back if he was too rough or if he made her take him too deep.

He wasn't expecting it, but she immediately pushed back, then started circling her tongue around his tip as she moaned. Since this was not what he wanted, Five's mind whirled with punishments he could deliver but his stomach filled with butterflies the more he listened to her. As she teased the underside of his shaft, his breathing grew heavy, and he couldn’t help but grind against her marvelous tongue.

Reaching up, the girl’s hand dragged down over Five’s abdomen. She was taking her time with him, and it was evident she was enjoying it and the feeling of each ridge between his muscles as he held his body tight, trying not to sway. Five had to admit, he was enjoying it too, but then she wrapped her hand around him, covering the base of his shaft but not moving. His hands clenched; his knuckles white as he let out a rough sounding sigh of exasperation.

Letting his eyes settle on her, Five was just about to start thrusting down her throat again when the girl’s cold hand began to move, and her head shallowly bobbed over his cockhead as she softly sucked.

Five’s body shuddered and she responded by moving her hand up his length, jerking him a few times before pressing her thumb gently but firmly against the underside of his tip where her mouth was just popping on and off.

Sudden waves of pleasure hit Five, followed by shaky breaths as his fingers tightened their grip on her. Taking complete control of her movements again, he quickly forced her head down, pushing her lips sliding all the way to his pubic bone and only pulling her head up again so he could fuck into her throat all over again.

It’s not like he hadn’t warned her or given her an out. That much was clear in Five’s fuzzy mind. There was no denying he wasn't getting a sick sort of pleasure from her tears and her wet gags and each and every spasm of her throat, and there was no way he wasn’t enjoying the sound of the girl’s desperate whines and moans.

She wasn’t tapping out, but her fingers were digging into his thighs almost painfully as her eyes rolling back so far Five was sure her brain must be turning off because he'd skewered it.

Loving every second of dominating her and roughly fucking her face so hard he was making it impossible for her to think, Five paid her back by not holding in his deep moans and low grunts of euphoria, but all too quickly he had to stop, or it would be over, and he didn't want that at all.

As his hips slowed and pulled away, the girl’s swollen lips gently popped off him.

Her brows furrowed upwards as she watched Five with a needy expression. Feeling like he could get away with it, he tapped her chin with the tip of his cock, spreading the drips of drool that the girl couldn’t help but have on her after taking him that long and hard.

Five smiled down at the girl, a cruel sort of look spreading across his face as he watched the little angel wordlessly begging. He tightened his grip on the back of her head.

“God, you are fucking beautiful,” he breathed, then suddenly yanked her hair back, forcing her to crane her neck back. “I can’t wait to paint that pretty fucking angel face of yours.”

After a few more taps to the girl's waiting tongue, Five swiftly brought her down on him again, immediately causing her to gag. The sound of her body fighting him and the feel of her moans buzzing against him as she twitched and repeatedly tried to swallow, all had Five feeling so damn close to the edge again, but he couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to.

Soon, his rhythm became even more aggressive as he took her head in both hands, sadistically slamming his cock into her mouth while griding the back of her throat before pulling off only to repeat the process.

“You really wanted my dick, didn’t you?” Five breathlessly sputtered as he threw his head back and his eyes fell shut.

Inevitably his brutal pattern became more erratic. Eventually, Five pulled back, fully pulling out. His hand that was tangled in the strands of the girl’s hair moved to the girl’s pouty lips instead.

Jerking her chin up he urgently asked, “You think you can swallow all of it?”

She eagerly nodded.

With an air of desperation coming out of him, Five stroked himself needily, bringing himself closer and closer as the girl watched in anticipation, her mouth open and tongue out.

With a few sharp inhales, Five’s body began to shudder, and his legs began to feel like they could give out on him. His heel squeaked on the floor as he drove forward, intent on delivering.

A long string of rough groans fell from Five's gapped lips as the girl flinched and shut her eyes in response to the pearls of white falling over her awaiting tongue.

Having had plenty of pent-up sexual tension from just the last few hours, not to mention a lifetime of being deprived of anything to this level of sexual eroticism, Five’s load repeatedly spurt out of him in heavy ropes.

The girl swallowed and swallowed, trying to keep up but even though she was, Five deliberately pulled back, letting the last of his cum land across the girl’s flushed cheeks and drip down between the mounds of her milky white breasts.

"Oh fuck," he gasped. His hand remained clasped around his shaft. His angry grip kept moving but slowly as it passed over his hot length and he road that the last incredible waves of his release.

Even though Five was on another planet as the heavy sound of his panting started to abate, he noticed that the girl was suddenly sitting there still as a statue. She was totally quiet, and her hands were in her lap as if waiting for further instruction or perhaps it was because she was too scared to move. The fact that Five couldn’t tell was quickly overshadowing his feeling of frenzied contentment.

His chest was still moving up and down faster than normal as he looked in shock down at the mess that he’d made of her. Appalled at what he'd done, he quickly pulled up his clothes and swiftly tucked his softening dick back in his tight black underwear.

Starting to panic, he stopped at zipping himself up, worriedly staring at her again with his belt still dangling open and his mind falling apart.

Five threw his hand back over his hair, brushing the dark strands out of eyes as he looked around the small room, trying to find something to clean the girl up with. He saw a convenient box of tissues, sitting on a small side table so he lunged for them, then gently as possible, he wiped his seed from the girl’s face.

As Five was about to draw another disposable wipe across the tops of her glistening breasts, he stopped short, realizing that maybe doing that wasn’t a great idea.

He tossed the soiled tissue on the floor, rubbing his shaking hand over his face.

As his fingers brushed over his eye, Five noticed it didn’t hurt at all. It felt totally normal, which made sense because he could also tell that it wasn’t swollen at all anymore.

All of a sudden, it dawned on him that it wasn’t swollen when they came into the private room. His lip felt normal too and being extremely horny couldn't be the only reason he'd ignored it.

Eyes still closed; the girl let out a small sound that Five wasn't sure how to interpret. Her hand floated up, a finger hesitantly poking at her sticky flesh where her white top dipped the lowest.

“I am sorry,” Five sputtered. “I don’t know what came over me. That was so-"

So ashamed of how he’d just treated her and confused about his face and that just let himself do that, Five couldn’t begin to formulate what he was thinking.

“I am going insane,” he breathed, his eyes falling away from the girl as he started to step back, but then her other hand found his, her cool fingers trapping him even more than the couch behind him.

She started to smile. Still her eyes were closed, and it was making her look so blissfully happy it only further confused Five. She was the hottest girl he'd ever seen but she was way too young for him, and from the time he'd seen her on the dance floor, he never intended to do more than have a friendly drink with her. But clearly something changed his way of thinking, but what that was, he couldn't remember and before he could get too upset about that and what he'd just done, the girl finally started to talk.

“You don’t need to apologize," she said, rubbing at her closed eye lids. "I loved every second of that, and I know that nobody has ever been lucky enough to say this to you, and you are more than worthy of the compliment, so here it is. Five Hargreeves, you have a very nice cock, and you taste amazing."

As much as it seemed she meant it, it also seemed she couldn't say such a dirty and brazen thing with out laughing about it and that made Five feel a lightness that made no senses with the rest of his heavy emotions.

This was not normal. Something wasn't right but he wanted so badly to pretend it was.

As nice as she was being about everything, Five couldn’t help but feel like a total asshole despite all his other terrify reservations, so playing along, he ineloquently countered that with the only thing he could come up with. “I do what I can do with what I’ve got, and unfortunately, I have nothing to compare that unforgettable experience to, but I can confidently say that was the most amazing blow job I have ever received, so thank you.”

“Your very welcome. I do what I can with what I’ve got,” she repeated, copying his words and tone so well that Five couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

Feeling some better, though he didn't understand why the sudden switch, his hand came down on her head again and he started to lace his fingers through her tousled hair, trying to fix it. He wanted to help her up and was reaching down to do it but that all stopped when her eyes started opening.

Five’s eyes blew wide as he stared at the unnatural light emanating back at him where before had only been the paleness of her bottomless eyes. Suddenly, he remembered begging the girl to kiss him while they were out in the bar.

He remembered the taste of blood.

Her smile grew wider, exposing her fangs.

In an instant, Five swooped low, wrenching her head back at the same time he pulled out the knife that had been hidden in the strap attached to his ankle.

Eyes ablaze; he brought the shining blade to the girl's neck.

~~~~Chapters 3 and 4 coming very soon....(mid-next week)

Thank you for reading and if you like, check out my other stories at the links below.

Master List Post to my Five Centric Stories and Art

Link to my other posts on Tumblr

Link to visit me on AO3

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