#c: close enough to kill

[idle-compy]

edge of town - middle kids

[taemcains]

real sufferers would get him

[cutebunnys50]

I was in a really bad mood (for good reason too, who can be happy in this world) but Pure Love Yuri(TM) fixed me.

That's right... I was missing it this whole time and it was always like this but lately I've been depriving myself of it for reasons. (Or it was ruined for me, sadly. *war flashbacks*)

As an adult, your joy and whimsy is taken from you and you have to claw it back. However, I still type and act very similarly to when I was 12-14. xD Upon further reflection, I have to take my power back. xD

thank u pure love yuri and women, u save my life <33333333

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

C☆CK SOOOO GUUDDDD

paring : mydei, sunday, phainon, aventurine, blade x fem!reader

tws : nsfw, smut, breeding kink, tit fūcking, creampie (vaginal & anal), sub!mydei, bratty mydei, cow-girl, belly bulge, multiple of rounds, wall fúcking with blade, rough sèx, sloppy sèx and biting

note : not proof read, so sorry for the mistakes.

— MYDEIMOS ★

“You ride like you’re trying to kill me,” Mydei muttered, voice strained, chest rising and falling hard under you.

You just smirked, hands planted firmly on his abs as you bounced on his cock, again and again, letting him hit deep. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

He scoffed, but the way his fingers dug into the sheets said otherwise. His cock was thick, hot, and twitching inside you—stretching you open with every drop of your weight, hitting so deep it left a bulge in your stomach. You pressed your hand over it, and he twitched.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw tight. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” you teased, grinding down just to make him feel it all over again. “You’re obsessed with how tight I am around you. Look at this bulge, Mydei. That’s you.”

He groaned, low and frustrated, golden eyes narrowing. “I could flip you right now and fuck that smug out of you.”

“Then do it,” you challenged, rolling your hips harder. “But you won’t. Because you like being underneath me. You like getting used.”

He growled, actually growled, hands flexing like he was a second away from grabbing your hips and taking over—but he didn’t. His thighs twitched under you, and his cock throbbed harder.

You leaned down, teeth sinking into the curve of his shoulder. Not soft, not gentle—a real bite. He grunted, hips jerking up into you so rough it knocked the breath out of your lungs.

“That all you got?” he muttered, but it was breathless now, his forehead damp with sweat. “If you’re gonna ride me, ride me.”

You did.

Hard. Fast. Relentless. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice, soaking and messy, his cock disappearing into you again and again with the filthiest sounds. That bulge kept rising, kept pressing out with every slam of your hips, and he couldn’t look away from it now, couldn’t stop twitching inside you.

You were close. You knew he was too.

“You gonna cum inside me, baby?” you asked, voice a little rough now. “Gonna fill me up and make sure it sticks?”

He snarled, hands finally grabbing your waist like he had to. “I’m not pulling out.”

“Good.”

You clenched down around him, grinding down in tight circles that made him swear through his teeth, golden eyes fluttering shut. His grip tightened. His cock throbbed harder, faster—

And then he was spilling inside you. Hot, deep, thick. You felt every pulse of it, your pussy fluttering as you came with him, hips still rocking as he held you down, like if he didn’t you’d ride the soul out of him.

You stayed like that for a moment. His cock still buried in your soaking, stretched pussy, your stomach still showing that curve from how deep he was. And you could feel the warmth dripping out, slowly, messy.

“…You’re a menace,” he muttered finally, voice hoarse.

You smirked. “And you’re full of me.”

His eyes met yours—sharp, a little dazed—and he huffed a laugh.

“Yeah,” he said. “Guess I am.”

You stayed on him, still pulsing, still throbbing—his cock buried to the base inside your cum-filled cunt. It twitched again, thick and hot, still hard even after he’d just filled you. His hands were loose on your waist now, like he didn’t know whether to pull you closer or give up and let you use him until he couldn’t move.

You rolled your hips again—slow, cruel, just enough to feel the stretch—and watched his head fall back, jaw clenched.

“…You done?” he muttered, voice rough and low.

You smiled. “No.”

He exhaled hard through his nose. “Of course not.”

You rocked again, this time lifting your hips just an inch before slamming back down. The lewd squelch of his cum spilling out of you was obscene. He twitched hard under you, biting back a sound in his throat.

“Still so deep,” you murmured, dragging your fingers down the curve of your own belly, tracing the soft bulge that reappeared with every grind of your hips. “You feel that? Right there.”

His eyes flicked down. Locked on the spot. You saw the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. His cock twitched again.

“You’re fucking filthy,” he muttered, but it came out breathy. Weak. Like he was losing the fight, and fast.

“And you’re the one who came in me.”

You started riding him again, slow and deep, the mess of it dripping down your thighs as your pussy squeezed around him with every thrust. His cum was still leaking out of you, even as you forced it back in again and again.

“You just came,” you said softly. “And you’re already hard again. That’s how bad you want it, huh?”

He gritted his teeth, digging his fingers into your hips again. “You think I care about your stupid little games?”

“I think you want me to ride you until it takes.”

You fucked yourself down on him harder, letting your weight slam onto his cock with a loud, wet slap. Your breath caught—he hit deep, right up against that aching sweet spot—and you knew he felt how tight your pussy clenched around him after that.

“I think you want it to knock you up,” you whispered, leaning close to his ear. “I think you want my pussy full until your cum sticks. Again. And again. And again.”

His hips jerked under you before he could stop them. His breath hitched.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, voice low and dangerous.

You licked the edge of his ear. “You already are.”

He growled, hands flying to your waist again—tight, firm now, nails digging in, but not to stop you. He just held you there, let you use him, let you fuck him like he was yours and nothing else.

“You’re not walking after this,” he muttered.

You just laughed. “Then don’t stop me.”

And he didn’t. He took it. Every bounce, every drag of your pussy down his thick cock, every time you clenched and made a filthy mess all over him. The bulge in your belly rose and fell, rose and fell, getting tighter and fuller with every second, and you felt him start to lose it again.

His body got hot under you. Thighs twitching. Breathing ragged. His grip on your hips went stiff and shaking.

“Don’t,” you said, moaning softly. “You’re not pulling out. I want all of it.”

“Fuck—”

“I want your cum inside me again. You’re not done until I say it’s done.”

He twitched inside you. So close.

You slammed down again and this time didn’t lift back up—just ground your pussy against him in tight, perfect circles, dragging your walls along every inch of that fat cock, milking him from the inside out.

He broke.

He came with a stifled groan, arms locking around you as he emptied himself inside, cock pulsing hard as he filled you again. Thick, hot, relentless. You felt it push up into you, flooding you a second time, and this time it was too much—it leaked past your pussy lips, down his cock, soaking the sheets under you both.

Your body shook as you came right after, grinding down into his lap like you could squeeze every drop out of him. Your pussy fluttered around him, overstimulated and stretched, full of cum and still clenching like you didn’t want to let him go.

And he didn’t try to move. Didn’t say a word.

He just laid there, panting, arms loose around your waist as he throbbed inside you, twitching with the last few pathetic pulses of his cock, still buried deep, still leaking.

You sat back slowly, still connected, looking down at the mess between your thighs. Your stomach was still rounded, still showing that firm little bulge from how deep he was.

“Still not enough,” you said, half-whispered.

His eyes flicked up to you, jaw tight, face flushed.

“…Then fuck me again.”

— SUNDAY ★

“You’re shaking,” Sunday murmured, his breath brushing your neck like silk. “I haven’t even fucked you properly yet.”

His fingers ghosted down your sides, thumbs grazing the stiff peaks of your nipples before he dragged them down—so casual, like he wasn’t making you tremble beneath him. You arched into his touch anyway, shameless, aching.

His lips quirked. “Eager, aren’t we?”

He dragged your wrists up and pinned them above your head, not hard—just enough pressure to remind you you weren’t in charge. His body hovered over yours, still mostly clothed, while you were already spread out and exposed beneath him, legs open, soaked and twitching.

And he hadn’t even put his cock in yet.

“Look at you,” he said, golden eyes lazy and amused. “Messy little thing, already soaking the sheets and I’ve barely touched you.”

His free hand moved down—slow, deliberate—and stopped to roll one of your nipples between his fingers. You gasped, hips jerking, and he smiled like he’d been waiting for that exact sound.

“Oh?” He leaned down and bit the other one—sharp, fast, mean. “Sensitive.”

“Sunday—” you whimpered, your voice breathless and strained.

“Yes, yes,” he murmured, licking the spot he’d just bitten, “you always sound so sweet when you’re like this. Let’s see what you sound like with my cock inside you.”

You didn’t get time to respond.

He let go of your wrists, just for a moment—just long enough to push your thighs open wider and line himself up. His cock pressed against your soaked folds, and when he pushed in, it was all at once.

Thick. Deep. Stretching you wide.

You cried out, head falling back, back arching.

He groaned, low and satisfied, like the feel of your pussy clenching around him was a reward he’d earned. “Tight. That’s good.”

He didn’t start moving yet—he just stayed there, buried to the hilt inside you, feeling you twitch around him.

“You’ll take all of it, won’t you?” he asked, voice low and silken. “I don’t care if you cry. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember anything but the shape of me.”

He snapped his hips forward—slow, deep, and devastating.

You moaned helplessly, your hands fisting in the sheets now, clinging to anything as he dragged himself back and slammed in again. His pace was steady but brutal, cock hitting you deep, every stroke forcing little sounds out of you that only made him move harder.

“You feel it?” he asked, dragging a finger along your belly, pressing just enough to feel the bulge he was making. “That’s where I am.”

You whimpered, hips bucking, eyes wide.

He rolled his hips, pushing even deeper. “You’ll take all of it. You were made to take me.”

His hand came up again, thumb grazing your nipple, then pinching it hard as his teeth found your neck.

The bite he gave you this time was worse—hot and sharp and perfect. You gasped, your walls squeezing tight around his cock. He hummed, satisfied.

“You want my cum, don’t you?” he breathed against your throat. “You want me to fill you up. Make you leak with it.”

“Y-Yes—!”

He grinned against your skin. “Then beg for it.”

You sobbed, almost too far gone to speak. He didn’t stop—his cock moved faster, harder, fucking you so deep your thighs were trembling.

“I said beg.”

“Please—please cum in me,” you gasped, desperate. “I want it, I want all of it—Sunday, please—”

That broke him.

He grabbed your hips and slammed into you, again and again, chasing his own climax with that smug, focused look never leaving his face. You clenched around him, your body already so close to breaking—

And then he came. Hot. Deep. A low, controlled groan rumbling in his chest as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside you, thick spurts filling your pussy until you could feel it dripping out around his cock.

He stayed like that, one hand sliding up to your chest again, gently brushing your sensitive nipples as you trembled under him.

“See?” he whispered. “Perfect fit.”

You couldn’t answer. You were too full. Too fucked. Too ruined.

He smiled.

“Let’s do that again.”

Your body was still shaking.

You were twitching beneath him, slick with sweat, legs splayed open as his cum slowly leaked out of your pussy—hot, thick, and sticky, dripping messily onto the sheets. You hadn’t even come down from the last orgasm, your body still fluttering around nothing—

—and Sunday was already shifting behind you again.

You flinched when you felt his hand between your cheeks, parting them with calm precision.

“Don’t tense,” he murmured, voice infuriatingly soft. “I didn’t say we were done.”

Your eyes flew open. “W-Wait—”

He ran a slick finger down to your tight rim, slowly circling it. Your whole body jolted.

“Oh? You didn’t think I’d use all of you?” His voice was laced with amusement. “You’re shaking, darling. Is that from the creampie or the anticipation?”

You tried to clench your thighs shut, but he just tsked and pulled them apart again.

“Be still.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest.

He leaned over you, tongue dragging across your nipple as his finger slowly pressed in—slow, relentless, stretching you open while he bit down gently on your already sore peak.

You gasped, hips twitching.

“Gods, you’re tight,” he murmured, breath hot against your chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it fit.”

He pumped his finger slowly, just enough to get you used to it—then added another. Your back arched.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. You were already ruined from the first round, your pussy sore and leaking, your nipples red and overstimulated—and now Sunday was casually opening your ass like he had all the time in the world.

“Breathe,” he said softly. “If you beg, I’ll go slow.”

“Please,” you gasped, “please fu-fuck me there—just—just go slow—”

He smiled, as the wings behind his ear slightly twitched.

“Good girl.”

You felt the head of his cock press against your ass next—still hard, still slick with your own juices and his cum—and then he pushed in.

Slow. Agonizingly slow. He filled you inch by inch, making sure you felt every bit of that thick cock as it stretched your tightest hole.

You whimpered, burying your face in the sheets.

“Too much?” he asked, stroking your side. “You can take it. You always do.”

And gods, you did. You took all of it—let him bottom out in your ass until your breath left your lungs in a sob. The stretch was deep, intense, making your pussy flutter even though it was no longer being touched.

“I can feel you clenching,” he whispered in your ear. “You like being stuffed like this, don’t you?”

He started to move—slow thrusts at first, grinding into you with slow, steady pressure. Your back arched again, the stretch lighting your nerves on fire.

You whimpered something broken and incoherent.

“Still too dumb to talk? How cute.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you back into him, fucking you deeper. “Maybe I’ll finish here next time. Fill this hole until it spills down your thighs.”

Your mouth dropped open in a moan as his pace picked up—his cock fucking deep into your ass now, full and punishing, while his fingers rolled your nipples again, cruel and relentless.

“Look at you,” he breathed, biting your shoulder this time. “Used, stuffed, and still begging for more.”

Your body was trembling—your pussy clenching uselessly, empty but aching as your ass took everything he gave you. You felt ruined. Owned. Full.

And then he growled—low and hungry.

“You’re going to take my cum again,” he said, thrusting harder now. “You’re going to feel it dripping from both holes.”

You came first. The pressure, the fullness, the overstimulation—it was too much. You came with a scream, your whole body clenching down as you shuddered beneath him.

He didn’t stop.

He groaned low and buried himself one last time, cock twitching inside your ass as he spilled hot, thick cum deep inside you. It was so much you felt it leaking around his cock—dripping out and down, sticky and filthy and perfect.

He stayed there a moment, deep inside, panting softly against your back.

And then he pulled out—slowly, letting every drop of his cum leak out of your used ass and down your thighs. You collapsed under him, twitching and gasping.

He brushed your hair back with one hand, gently tweaking your oversensitive nipple with the other.

“Now you’re done,” he murmured, smug and composed as ever.

“But I’m not.”

You collapse into his lap, trembling and utterly fucked out, your pussy still dripping from the last creampie, your ass aching and stretched beyond belief. Sunday’s hands find your hips with that effortless, commanding touch, pulling you flush against him. His cock is still buried deep inside you, the slow aftershocks making you shiver.

His fingers slide between your thighs first, gliding through your slick folds, teasing your soaked pussy with delicate, deliberate strokes. You whimper, biting your lip as his thumb circles your swollen clit, drawing soft moans from your throat.

“Such a perfect mess,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerously calm. “Look at you, dripping all over me like the filthy little thing you are.”

Then, without warning, he slides one finger around to your ass, pressing gently against your rim. Your whole body jerks, but he’s patient, pushing just enough to make you twitch.

“Don’t close up on me now,” he teases, dragging another finger in slow, shallow strokes. “You took me so well—you’re going to take my fingers too.”

You moan, hips rocking involuntarily as he moves his fingers deeper, stretching you open all over again. His other hand finds your nipple, pinching and rolling the already sensitive peak with expert precision. He leans down, biting softly into your neck, marking you with that sharp, delicious sting.

“You’re my perfect slut,” he whispers, voice thick with satisfaction. “So fucking full of me. Can you feel how much you want it? How much you need to be filled again?”

You can’t stop the needy whimper that slips out, your body trembling as he sinks his fingers deeper, curling them just right inside your ass and sliding against your clit. Your back arches, hips grinding against him even though you’re already overflowing.

Sunday chuckles darkly, a hand gripping your hip tighter as he keeps fucking you with his fingers, slow and torturous, making you beg without words.

“You’re going to take everything I give you,” he promises, voice a low growl. “And you’re going to love it.”

— PHAINON ★

You were already soaked before he even touched you—his fingers trailing light and slow over your thighs, making goosebumps rise in their wake. Phainon’s hands were gentle, patient, but there was a teasing smile in his voice when he whispered, “You’re already dripping for me, huh?”

You flushed, biting your lip as you shifted to sit right on his cock, feeling the thick hardness pressing through you—warm, full, and perfectly stretched.

He chuckled low, fingers hooking around your hips to steady you, but never forcing. “Take your time,” he murmured, voice soft but heavy with promise. “Ride me nice and slow. Show me how much you want this.”

You began to move, slow circles, feeling the deep stretch inside you as his cock filled your pussy inch by inch. His hands slid up your waist, resting just below your ribs, thumb teasing your skin as he watched you with those bright eyes—half amusement, half something deeper.

“Look at you,” he said, voice husky, “so perfect around me.” His hand drifted upward, fingers brushing your nipple through your shirt, just the lightest pinch to make you shiver.

You gasped, and his smile deepened. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and bit down softly on your collarbone—a quick nip that left you burning in the best way.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered. “Feeling full already?” His fingers tightened on your hips as you pressed down harder, riding him with slow, deliberate movements that had your breath catching every time.

You leaned forward, arms wrapping around his neck, and he pulled you closer. His cock was thick and hot inside you, filling you completely, pushing deep enough to make your belly push out—a visible swell beneath your skin that made you both flush.

Phainon groaned low, hands slipping beneath your shirt to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples, teasing them to hardness. He bit his lip, watching your face as you closed your eyes, riding him perfectly, every little movement coaxing more pleasure from both of you.

“You’re mine,” he said quietly, voice thick. “Gonna breed you full tonight. Fill you until you’re dripping.”

Your hips stuttered, pussy clenching hard around him, and he chuckled softly, lips brushing against your ear. “You want me to come inside you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, breathless.

His hands gripped your waist tighter as he thrust upward, slow and sure, cockhead pressing against that perfect spot inside you, making your vision blur.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice low and steady. “Ride me. Show me how much you want it.”

You did—faster now, a steady rhythm as your body started to quake. His teeth grazed your shoulder again, just a teasing nip before he bit down harder, making you gasp.

His cock pulsed inside you, thick and hot, and when he came, it was slow and deep—filling you completely, his warmth spreading low in your belly, making the bulge beneath your skin impossible to hide.

You shivered, your own climax crashing through you as he held you close, whispering, “Mine.”

And even after he pulled out, his hands stayed on you—gentle, loving, and teasing, promising more to come.

You were already slick with him, heat pooling low between your legs, the thick hardness of his cock pressing deep inside you—warm, heavy, and stretching you open just right. Phainon’s hands rested lightly on your hips, steady but gentle, thumbs stroking slow lazy circles, never forcing, just guiding you as you started to move.

“Ride me, baby,” he whispered, voice low but teasing, like he was enjoying every second of watching you take him in. “Slow. Nice and slow.”

You shifted your hips, sinking down fully on him, feeling him fill you completely—the way his cock stretched your pussy deliciously, making your belly push out a little, soft and swollen with him inside you. His length was thick and long, and the way you rode him made you feel full, like you could take all of him, all night.

Phainon’s fingers slid up your sides, tracing along your ribs, tilting your hips just slightly as you moved, matching your rhythm with slow, deep thrusts from below. His thumb found your nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers, teasing it until a sharp gasp slipped from you.

He bit down lightly on your collarbone, just enough to make your skin flush pink, and his voice dropped even lower.

“Good girl,” he said. “So tight around me.”

His hands moved to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking your nipples as you leaned forward, hands braced on his shoulders. His cock twitched inside you, full and thick, pushing deep with every slow, steady grind.

You met his gaze, breath hitching, and he smiled that teasing smile you loved—soft but full of promise.

“You gonna take my cum, huh?” he asked, voice husky. “Wanna breed you full. Feel you dripping all over me.”

You nodded, riding him harder now, hips rolling in lazy circles, wet heat slick between your thighs, cock buried deep inside your pussy, stretching you perfectly, filling you completely.

Phainon’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he bit your shoulder this time, teeth grazing your skin just enough to sting, making you shudder.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured. “Take it all.”

Your pussy clenched hard around him, matching every pulse of his cock, and you gasped when his pace sped up—deep, powerful thrusts that made your belly bulge out with every movement.

You cried out, hands clutching his shoulders, overwhelmed by the fullness and pleasure.

“Phainon—” you whimpered, hips trembling.

He growled softly, fingers digging into your hips.

“Come for me,” he commanded, voice thick. “Fill me.”

Your climax crashed through you, body shuddering, pussy clenching tight around his cock as waves of heat rolled over you.

Phainon followed right after, slow and deep, spilling thick, hot cum deep inside your pussy. You felt the warmth spread, filling you completely, making your belly swell visibly beneath your skin.

He stayed buried inside you a moment, heavy and warm, holding you close.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice soft but possessive.

You collapsed forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, breath ragged.

His fingers found your nipples again, rolling and pinching gently as you both caught your breath.

“Perfect,” he said, voice full of pride and something tender beneath it all.

— AVENTURINE ★

Aventurine’s hands were warm and sure, sliding under your shirt with a slow, deliberate ease that made your pulse spike instantly. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, the kind of look that promised he was taking control—and there was no point in resisting.

You shivered as his fingers wrapped around your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples with a mix of teasing and reverence. They were already hard beneath his touch, swollen from the heat spreading through your body. His lips brushed your collarbone, trailing down with lazy, satisfied breaths, as if savoring the way you quivered under him.

Without breaking eye contact, Aventurine carefully pulled your shirt up, exposing your bare skin to the cool air—and to him. His hands cupped your breasts fully now, lifting and pressing them together just enough to make your chest feel unbearably sensitive.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and velvety. “So soft, so ready.”

He shifted, leaning back just enough to free himself from his shirt, revealing the strong, smooth planes of his chest and the firm line of his waist. You could feel the heat radiating off him even now, making your skin flush hotter.

Then, with a casual confidence that sent your breath hitching, he positioned himself between your breasts. His cock, already hard and demanding, pressed against the valley between your tits. You swallowed hard, heart pounding.

“Ready for this?” he asked, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that sly smile you couldn’t resist.

You nodded, barely able to speak, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders.

He lifted your tits with both hands, molding them around his cock like they were made to hold him perfectly. Slow at first, he rocked his hips forward, pressing into the soft flesh, then pulled back, teasing you with the slick friction of your own wetness against his skin.

Your breath hitched, fingers digging into his skin as he began to move with a smooth rhythm. His cock slid between your tits, slick and hot, as he tit-fucked you with effortless grace.

His eyes never left yours—calm, commanding, and so fucking hungry.

You gasped when he quickened, the slick drag of his cock against your nipples and skin driving you wild. His hands tightened their grip, kneading your tits as he fucked you between them, the wet sounds echoing through the room.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” he breathed, biting lightly on your shoulder, marking you as his. “So fucking tight.”

You moaned, hips bucking instinctively, aching for more friction, more contact.

He didn’t slow down. If anything, he got more deliberate, pressing you harder into him, dragging his cock deeper with every thrust. The sensation of being completely enveloped—held, used, worshiped—made your knees weak.

His hands slid lower, fingers teasing the soft curve of your waist, then tracing down your stomach to press just below your belly button. He was so close, the pressure mounting as he rocked his hips in a steady, controlled frenzy.

You felt the coil inside you tighten, your body trembling, breath coming in ragged gasps as you spiraled toward the edge.

“Come for me,” he urged, voice rough with need. “Let me hear you.”

With a shuddering cry, you spilled over, your whole body shaking as your climax hit like a tidal wave. Aventurine kept moving, fucking you through your orgasm, his cock slick and hard between your tits as he pushed you further and further.

He groaned low, hips stuttering as he chased his own release, biting down gently on your neck to keep himself grounded.

Then, with a final, deep thrust, he came, hot and thick, spilling down your chest and between your breasts.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he collapsed against you, breathing heavy but still completely in control.

“Perfect,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine.”

Aventurine’s breath was hot against your skin as he pulled back slightly, his cock slick with your wetness, still resting between your tits. His eyes gleamed with a sharp, teasing light—the kind that made your heart race and your body flush all at once.

“Not done with you yet,” he said quietly, voice edged with that cruel smile you knew so well. “You like being used like this, don’t you? Soft and needy, just begging for more.”

Your pulse hammered as his hands slid from your breasts down to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who was in control. He tugged you down a little, pressing his chest against yours.

“You’re so fucking vulnerable,” he continued, tracing the curve of your jaw with a finger. “Perfect to break down.”

A shiver ran through you, equal parts anticipation and nerves. You knew he could be merciless when he wanted.

Slowly, he slid off you, his cock slipping free from your breasts with a wet, slick sound that made your stomach twist.

“Stand up,” he commanded, his voice low but firm.

You obeyed, your legs shaky but steady. Aventurine reached behind you, pushing your shirt up again, his hands running down your spine to grip your hips.

He pressed his cockhead against your entrance, just barely teasing you. You bit your lip, craving the full stretch, the full feeling of him inside.

“Not so fast,” he whispered, pulling back and circling your clit with slow, cruel flicks of his tongue and fingers. “You’re going to take your time. I want to watch you lose your mind.”

You whimpered, hips moving instinctively, desperate for friction. But he held you still, gripping you tight.

“Patience,” he said, voice sharp like a whip.

“Please,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. “Please fuck me, Aventurine.”

His smile grew wider—dangerous and wicked. “That’s better.”

Then he pressed in, slow and deliberate, filling you inch by inch as you gasped, clutching his arms for balance.

His hands roamed your body as he began to move, slow thrusts that stretched and filled you completely. The friction of his cock against your sensitive walls, the slick warmth spreading through you—it was overwhelming.

Aventurine’s eyes darkened with hunger as he watched your every reaction, every shudder and moan that escaped your lips.

“You’re mine to ruin,” he said softly, biting your shoulder lightly. “And I’m not stopping until I do.”

His pace increased, deep, powerful thrusts that made your knees weaken, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

His hands gripped your hips harder, holding you tight as he fucked into you like he wanted to mark you, claim you with every stroke.

Your body trembled as you neared the edge again, his voice low and commanding pushing you over.

“Come for me,” he growled, “let me feel you squeeze me.”

You shattered around him, muscles clenching tight, your cry muffled against his chest.

Aventurine’s own breathing grew ragged, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he chased his release.

With a guttural groan, he tensed and spilled inside you—warm, thick, filling you completely, sinking deep into your core with no mercy.

You gasped as his seed flooded you, your body swollen and aching, the delicious fullness making you shudder with overstimulation.

He didn’t pull out, holding you close, letting every drop sink in as he pressed kisses to your neck.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with that cruel edge you loved. “Completely full. You’re going to carry this with you.”

You melted against him, overwhelmed and utterly his—marked and claimed, exactly how he wanted.

— BLADE ★

Blade didn’t waste time with pleasantries. The moment you showed any hesitation, his cold eyes pierced right through you, as if sizing up a problem that needed to be fixed—immediately. He grabbed your wrist with an iron grip, pulling you close until your breath hitched, chest pressed against the unforgiving wall.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice sharp and low. “And I don’t have time for bullshit.”

No softness, no coaxing—just raw demand. His hands pinned your arms above your head with brutal precision, the coldness in his touch sending a thrill of fear mixed with arousal straight to your core.

His body pressed against yours, taut and unyielding. The hard line of his jaw flexed as he stared down at you, hungry, ruthless.

Without warning, his cock slammed into you, deep and merciless, the harsh thrusts rocking your entire body against the wall. You gasped at the sudden invasion, skin scraping against cold stone, the ache of his cock driving straight through your resistance.

“You think you can hold back?” he sneered, voice cruel. “I’ll break you before you even try.”

His hips slammed harder, faster, pounding into you like a force of nature—unyielding and unforgiving. Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain mingling through your body.

Your nails dug into the wall, trying to hold yourself up as he continued his relentless assault. There was no gentleness here—only the cold, hard reality of his dominance.

Blade’s hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, squeezing, dragging you against the wall with violent precision. The sharp scrape of your skin against the surface beneath you only heightened the raw sensation.

His lips brushed your ear, cold breath hissing through his teeth. “You’ll learn your place.”

You whimpered, body trembling under the harsh rhythm, every nerve on fire as he drove deeper, faster, with no sign of mercy.

His cock stretched you wide, filling you completely, a perfect fit that left no room to deny him.

“You like this, don’t you?” he taunted, voice dripping with contemptuous amusement. “Being pushed, used, owned.”

Your breath hitched, overwhelmed by the raw intensity of his words and the physical force he wielded so effortlessly.

He chuckled darkly, the sound low and threatening, as if savoring your helplessness.

Blade’s fingers dug into your hips, gripping tight enough to bruise, anchoring you as he fucked you harder, pounding relentlessly against the unyielding wall.

“You’re nothing without me,” he growled, voice thick with dominance. “I’m the only one who’ll ever want you like this.”

His cock hit every sensitive spot inside you with merciless precision, dragging groans from deep in your throat, breaking down every last shred of control you tried to hold.

Your back arched, body trembling, overwhelmed by the powerful sensations and his cruel dominance.

He leaned down, biting the shell of your ear hard enough to draw a sharp gasp, the sting burning deliciously through the haze of pleasure and pain.

“Beg me,” he commanded, voice cold and commanding. “Show me you’re mine.”

You didn’t hesitate—words spilling out in desperate need, raw and unfiltered.

“Please, Blade… don’t stop… I’m yours.”

His grin was vicious, a predator savoring his prey. “Good girl.”

With a final, ruthless thrust, he slammed into you deeper than before, holding you against the wall as his cock pulsed, spilling hot and thick inside you.

You cried out, body shaking, completely fucked and marked, utterly his.

Blade’s hands tightened on your hips, holding you steady as his breathing slowed, the cruel smirk never leaving his face.

“Remember this,” he said softly, voice dripping with dark promise. “You belong to me.”

Blade didn’t pull out. Instead, he held you flush against the wall, hips pistoning with savage precision, his cock throbbing deep inside your slick heat. Every thrust was a command, every movement designed to own you completely.

His hands moved from your hips up to your sides, fingers digging into your ribs with enough force to leave bruises—but you didn’t care. The sharp pressure sent waves of delicious pain mingled with fire through your skin.

“You’re mine,” he growled again, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck, leaving a harsh, stinging bite. The taste of copper filled your mouth as your own breath hitched, a mix of pain and craving spiraling through you.

Your nails clawed the wall, unable to grip anything but the rough surface, as Blade’s relentless rhythm drove deeper, harder. The tight heat of your pussy clamping down on him only seemed to spur him on, making his strokes more violent, more demanding.

His lips brushed your ear, voice low and rough. “You think you can take this? You want me to ruin you?”

You gasped, words choked out in desperate need. “Yes, Blade… please.”

His grin was cruel and victorious, like a predator savoring his conquest. “Good. I’ll make sure you remember this night forever.”

Suddenly, he shifted, one hand sliding down your body, fingers teasing your clit with harsh, merciless circles as he fucked you mercilessly against the wall. The sensation was overwhelming—a perfect, cruel mix of sharp pain and searing pleasure.

Your back arched involuntarily, breath catching in your throat as the overstimulation pushed you closer to the edge.

Blade leaned in, biting your shoulder hard, the sting sharp and intoxicating. “Come on, show me you’re mine,” he demanded.

You trembled, body shaking, eyes rolling back as the first wave of your orgasm crashed through you—clenching tight around his cock, sucking him deeper with desperate greed.

But Blade wasn’t done. Not yet.

His hips slammed harder, faster, riding out your release while dragging you mercilessly toward his own.

“I’m going to fill you so deep you’ll be dripping for me for days,” he promised, voice a dark growl of possession.

Your body trembled uncontrollably, a delicious burn spreading from your core as he pushed deeper, pounding into you with brutal force, every thrust crushing the air from your lungs.

Then, with a guttural roar, Blade’s cock pulsed inside you, spilling his hot, thick seed deep into your trembling pussy.

You cried out, body slick and swollen, utterly overwhelmed by the overwhelming fullness and his fierce domination.

He held you there, hips still grinding slowly, letting every drop sink in, marking you thoroughly as his.

His breath was heavy in your ear as he whispered, “You’re mine now. Always.”

Your body sagged against the wall, spent but burning with need and the sharp edge of his cruel control.

Blade smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with brutal tenderness. “Get ready to beg for more.”

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[majestyeverlasting]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

This piece contains 18+ content

pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

summary After stumbling across Eddie’s intimate drawings of you, you’re left reeling, but what unfolds that night is less about the pictures and more about the trust and closeness they force to the surface. [contains fluff, artsy eddie who's a little rough around the edges, nude drawings, smut | wc 5.8k]

a/n based on this request by the lovely @valinherfantasyworld

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Under the hum of fluorescent lights, you stand waiting as a small fan rotates to blow air your way. The gas pumps outside had been empty, but the open sign held enough promise for you to mosey on in. With a sigh, you reach out to hit the top of the dainty silver call bell for the second time. The checkout counter is dotted with planetary and extra-terrestrial figurines. Old, peeling stickers are stuck to the wood as well. 

It isn’t lost on you that you could bypass paying for the trail mix and jerky and walk out the door. The intrusive thought comes just as Nelson bursts from the break room with his famously grizzled beard. His shoes squeak against the sticky floor as he hobbles to his place behind the counter with considerable reliance on his scuffed, wooden cane. When he sits on the stool, air expels from the cushion in a low, high-pitched whine. 

“My apologies,” he tilts his head to look at you from over the top of his chunky glasses. The prescription is so high that it makes his hazel eyes look larger than they are. 

You shake your head in dismissal as you push Wayne’s snacks towards him with a polite smile. He punches the prices into the cash register with practiced ease. His fingers move quickly and precisely like a starved bird pecking the ground for food.  

“No help today?” you ask. 

Nelson puffs an exasperated breath. “That Henderson kid’s supposed to be here,” he says. “Runnin’ late ‘cause of math club.” 

You hum, trying not to smile when he mutters something about priorities and the youth these days. 

“Need a bag?” He puts the snacks in one before you can answer. “Say, aren’t you dating the Munson boy?” 

“Only for the past six months,” you lightheartedly quip. 

Nelson seldom asked a question he didn’t know the answer to. Everybody in Hawkins shopped at Boone’s Quick Mart, whether they wanted to or not. Convenience trumps luxury any day, and there’s nothing quite like Southern hospitality wrapped in a Midwestern package.

As a pillar in the community for the past thirty years, Nelson Boone knows who’s who and what’s what—Tina Johnson’s divorce from her wandering-eyed husband, Jaden Rockwell’s C+ on his report card, the McNulty family’s move to Boise. This is a man who sees and hears all. 

He meets your gaze with his googly eyes. “So you heard about what happened to him last night?” 

A small stone of worry drops into your gut. “Something happened?” 

Nelson looks at you from over his glasses again, a thrilled smirk playing on his lips. “Something? Hell, I reckon he saved my ass from getting killed.” 

The spark of excitement that curls in his tone reminds you of his tendency to stretch the truth just enough to make eyes widen and jaws drop a little faster. You bar yourself against the bait in hopes he’ll be more stripped and forthcoming. It works, if the way his shoulders relax is any clue. 

“Guy from outta town comes in all big and bad, demanding I empty the register,” he starts. “Meanwhile, Munson’s in the back near the pop. All I’m thinking at this point is, I should’ve gone ahead and made those revisions to my will like I was planning to—” 

“What did Eddie do?” you cut in. 

Nelson clears his throat. “Long story short, the guy whips out some kind of folding knife, they scuffle for a bit, then Munson knocks the rest of buddy’s screws loose.” 

“What?” Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. 

“Scout’s honor,” Nelson says, holding up three fingers. “He didn’t mention it?” 

You blink a few quick times as worry swirls within you. “Haven’t seen him in a few days.” 

Nelson shifts on the stool and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a meaty finger. “Well, that kid’s got the biggest pair in all of Hawkins, I tell you what.” He laughs a quick bark of a sound that sends him into a brief coughing fit. “Imagine that, though. Me dying in ‘88, the year of our Lord.” 

“Imagine that,” you murmur. 

You place the money on the counter with buzzing fingers and blood rushing in your ears. 

•••

Wayne’s truck is the only vehicle parked out front when you arrive at the trailer. The grass is greener, and the small flower bed Eddie helped you plant is vibrant and thriving. Before Spring settled, you’d told both Munsons that nurturing their slice of Hawkins could give them something to feel proud of. They’d taken it to heart. 

Though neither would ever admit it to your face, you’d come into their life and transformed it from grayscale to technicolor. 

As a breeze rustles through the surrounding trees, the early evening sun ventures closer towards the horizon. 

When the front door pushes open with a dull creak, Wayne looks up from where he’s wiping crumbs off the small kitchen table nestled beside the window. He’s in jeans and an old tee that’s loose around the collar. A smile pulls at his lips as you pad inside. 

“Thought that was you,” he says. “What’s this?” Wayne peeks into the bag as you set it on the table. 

“Special delivery.” 

“Told ya you ain’t gotta go outta your way for me like this.” He shakes his head with a sigh, but you know he’s grateful. 

“Saves you an extra stop before work, right?” You gently nudge his shoulder. 

“Thanks, darlin.’” After walking the towel back over to the sink, he catches the hint of concern in your eyes as you linger near the table. 

“Everything alright?” 

You open your mouth a couple of times. “Is Eddie okay?” 

Wayne’s gray eyebrows furrow. “Yeah. I mean, he’s Eddie.” He chuckles. “You just missed him. Called about five minutes ago and said something about getting off a little later than usual.” 

You frown. “So that’s why he hasn’t made it in.” 

Wayne hums a sound of confirmation. “Said he could meet you at Benny’s at six, though,” he says. “Also mentioned something about the lake. Asked you to bring his camera.” 

At the very least, the man’s words assure you that the events of last night hadn’t been as bad as you made them out to be in your mind. 

•••

The next hour passes with a slow, Hawkins kind of ease. When you push into Eddie’s bedroom in search of his camera, the air smells like him: pinewood with a faint, smokey undertone. All things considered, the space is tidier than it’s been over the past couple of weeks. 

The open surfaces are no longer strewn with random receipts and wrappers. All his fantasy figurines are organized with a greater sense of intentionality. Even the Iron Maiden poster, whose corner once slouched off the wall, has now been readhered. 

Leave it up to Eddie to make order out of chaos again and again.  

You locate the Nikon on his dresser in seconds. The frame counter rests a few notches before 1, and after a brief pause of debate, you pop the film door open to see if there’s any film inside. Relief washes over you when you realize the chamber is empty, and you haven’t just exposed a brand-new roll to the light. In search of a fresh canister, you squat at his nightstand and pull open the top drawer. Nothing. Mainly guitar accessories: picks, sheets of music, old bridge pins—along with a couple of stray condoms. 

You move to the drawer beneath it, where journals, sketchbooks, and art supply pouches. However, a small cylindrical container tucked in the back corner catches your attention. The top of your hand pinches against the drawer when you attempt to reach the new roll of film without disturbing the other contents. That’s when you make the executive decision to pull out the first couple of sketchbooks. 

In doing so, three pictures slip out: you on a park bench smiling, you sitting on his bed attempting to play his guitar, you taking too big of a bite off an ice cream cone. 

A smile buds on your face as you flip the sketchbook open to tuck the photos back inside. Time stops. On the page is a beautiful portrait of you. It's not a mere sketch; this is much too involved. You were under the impression that he only ever drew the characters for his campaigns this intricately—dragons, celestials, faye. 

As far as you knew, your likeness was only ever confined to his quicker sketches because you were always around. It was easy to capture you in the moment with no pressure. Can’t replicate perfection, sweetheart. 

It isn’t until you’ve turned a few pages ahead that a different type of surprise prickles through you. Blooming and warm like the beginning of spring, but with a more rogue intensity. One that feels borderline forbidden because this next drawing itself ought to have remained tucked away in a secret place. 

Your lips aren’t wrapped around ice cream but Eddie’s index and middle fingers. A line of saliva runs down your chin as your eyes sparkle. 

You flip to the next drawing. In this one, you’re topless and kneeling, legs spread in an unabashed V. One of your hands plays between your thighs as you look up through your lashes. It’s drawn from memory, no doubt. Eddie had yet to capture you on film in such a vulnerable light. 

Another page. Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your neck. You recognize the skeleton tattoo that constitutes the back of his right hand to give the illusion that his bones are bared. 

Another. Your backside is drawn from the perspective of whoever stands behind you. There’s an abstractness to it, in a way. The shading suggests slight irritation or bruising from impact against your delicate skin. 

The last drawing you gleam features you lying face down with your bottom up, wrists tied with rope. Indents on your skin suggest that you’ve tried to pull free—

Something flips low in your gut. White noise fills your ears as you snap the sketchbook closed and put it back where it belongs. You move on autopilot as you toss Eddie’s camera and film into your tote bag and scramble out of his room. 

•••

The water is calm as it laps at the bank of the lake. Gnats flutter around while tree leaves rustle. On a summer evening such as this, Lover’s Lake is a wonder. Above, the sky stretches like the handiwork of a master artist. Blue fades to burnt orange to rustic lavender in a seamless ombre. Your eyes remain on the water below as you kick your feet off the edge of the dock. 

Eddie nudges your knee with his after a while. The upper portion of his coveralls is tied around his waist, exposing his white T-shirt and lean tattooed arms. The sleeve on his right arm is fuller and extends all the way to his hand. 

Despite the intricate designs inked across his skin, you can make out the thin, red scratches on his forearms and the few cuts that pepper his knuckles. None of them override the dark ink of his tattoos, but you can see them since you’re sitting so close. The ones on his neck are visible all the more because they have little to camouflage with. Some are old, but most of them are undeniably fresher. You’ve been cataloguing them all evening. 

You peer over at him with a pensive smile. His camera rests on the opposite side of him. He’d captured a few shots of you and the scenery when there was a little more light. 

“You’re quiet,” he says.

“Just enjoying the view.” 

Eddie briefly wrinkles his nose and looks out at the lake. Touché. 

The silence returns, but Eddie can’t settle into it for the life of him. He shifts, one knee propping up. “You gotta give me something to work with here.” He tries to meet your adverted gaze. “Did I say something to piss you off?” 

All you can do is manage a swallow. There were enough distractions to carry you through dinner at Benny’s, but the world seems much smaller and stripped out here. No music, chatter, or waitress checking in to refill your drinks. It’s just you, Eddie, and the unmatched stillness of nature. All of which are fertile ground for your thoughts to wander and unavoidably return to the fact he hadn’t said a word about what happened at Boone’s—or the contents of his sketchbook. Especially now that he won’t look away from you. 

Worry intensifies Eddie’s gaze. The same gaze that you now know has studied and considered you more intimately than you ever imagined. You can’t help but feel bare and exposed now. It was yet another brick to lay on top of the fact that he’d refrained from telling you about the events at Quick Mart. 

You finally look over at him.  

“Please talk to me,” he says. 

You take his larger hand in yours. He remains quiet, hopeful. You study his palm, then turn it over to assess the back of his hand, the cuts just barely visible over the skeleton tattoo covering it. You wish he could be a fraction as open and forthcoming as the illusion his tattoo presents.

“Did something happen last night?” you ask. 

A defensive edge slips into his voice. “What do you mean?” 

“At Quick Mart,” you say. 

In the time that Eddie combs through his mind in search of the right approach, you say it yourself, “You were in a fight.” It’s not fair to state it so clinically, but you do it anyway. 

Eddie looks more betrayed than surprised. “No, I wasn’t,” he says. “Not like that.” 

You feel a pang of guilt over the earnest way he expresses it, like a kid trying to prove their innocence. 

Over the years, he’d gotten better about his temper. About how quick he was to handle certain situations with the scrappier instincts of his youth. He knew now, more than ever, that words alone could get him much further than his fists. Throughout the latter half of his overstayed run in the public school system, he’d been forced to prove himself physically time after time, so he had no choice but to get good at it. Sometimes, he jumped the gun, but that wasn’t him. Not anymore.  

“It wasn’t over nothing,” he explains. “Asshole was trying to—” 

“I know, Teddy,” you’re quick to assure, voice soft. “Wasn’t pointing fingers. I’m just glad everybody’s okay.” You squeeze his hand. 

His gaze flickers down. “Sorry,” he murmurs, exhaling. He speaks up after a while. “Was it Nelson who told you?” 

The thought of Nelson—endearing, googly-eyed Nelson—makes your lips twitch upwards. Eddie almost doesn’t believe it, but he’s grateful. A fraction of the tension melts from his shoulders as levity creeps in. He presses closer to feel the shake of your shoulders as you chuckle despite yourself. If you don’t laugh, you’ll mess around and find a reason to cry. 

Your amusement eventually subsides into something stiller. “Wish it’d been you, though.” 

Eddie takes the blow. “Swear I was gonna tell you.” He dips his head to kiss the bulb of your shoulder. “Just wanted to give everything some breathing room. Didn’t want you to get all worked up and worried. Hate making you worry.” 

“Forget worry,” you say lightly. “If something involves you, I’ll always wanna know. I care about you.” Those words stir a gratefulness in his chest.  “I want you to tell me things even when they’re scary or hard.” 

Eddie sees the sincerity in your gaze. A hint of confliction seems to reside there as well.  

“No more secrets,” he promises. 

He holds out his pinkie, and just when he thinks you’re going to ignore it, you hook yours around his. It’s no surprise that he squeezes. As playful as he is, you should’ve seen it coming. You yelp and attempt to pull your hand away, but he leans in to steal a kiss that you allow him to take. A satisfied smile lingers on his face afterward. 

With a proud sigh, he lays back on the wooden planks of the dock, hair splaying like mane. With your eyes you map the faint freckles on his face when he closes his eyes, then trace his eyebrows, the slope of his nose, the relaxed pout of his lips. 

Eddie’s eyes soon flutter open to meet yours.

He offers a smile. “Hmm?”

You shrug, chuckling in a mix of nerves and relief. “Just thinking of something Nelson said about you,” you say. “‘That kid’s got the biggest pair in all of Hawkins.’” 

A surprised laugh bubbles out of him that makes his eyes crinkle and his chest shake. You join in. When the moment settles into something tamer but still a bit charged, Eddie holds your gaze as he reaches down between his legs to rest a hand over his crotch. 

“You’ve seen ‘em first hand,” he drawls, palming himself through the fabric of his coveralls. “Whaddya think?” 

Heat floods your cheeks, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of leaving you speechless. “Jury’s still out.” 

Another laugh rumbles through him and ends with a snort. His eyes shimmer when he calms down. You’re there to twirl your finger around one of his curls and give it an affectionate tug. 

A gentle breeze rolls through and makes a part of you wish it could carry the memory of his drawings away with it. At least so you could settle into the serenity of the moment in an unadulterated way. Those thoughts don’t leave you, however. His face alone is a reminder of his secret envisionings of you. 

•••

Later that night, in the dim lamplight of Eddie’s room, you lie face up on his bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. It’s as if the act will still your nerves, but it doesn’t. 

Eddie emerges from the bathroom whistling, a gray towel wrapped around his slender waist. You loll your head to look at him just long enough to catalogue his damp curls, his myriad of tattoos, the light dusting of hair between his pecs, and the even darker trail that descends from his belly button. His back turns to you as he saunters to his dresser. There’s a dagger tattooed between his shoulder blades. 

“Miss me?” he asks as he digs pajamas out of his drawer. 

When you don’t respond, he peeks over his shoulder. Your gaze is directed towards the ceiling.  

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Sorry. I’m just tired.” 

He hums. Your silence takes root beneath his skin and yields a certain self-consciousness. It wasn’t like you to be so disengaged. Not when it came to him. There was no denying his magnetism, even when he wasn’t actively trying to work the room. 

“Okay, what’s really going on?” Eddie walks to the side of the bed and stares down at you. “You’ve been acting funny all evening.” 

You push yourself upright, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. To buy yourself some time, you rub your eyes with your fists as if tiredness truly is to blame. There’s nowhere to hide when your hands inevitably drop back down to rest in your lap. Still, Eddie fails to get a read. 

“Talk to me, Goose.” He taps your chin with a gentle knuckle. “Is that gas station shit really bothering you that bad?” Eddie winces at his own irritation. “That came out wrong. Shit.” 

He takes a deep breath. “I honestly didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The guy had what was coming to him.”

“I care about you, is all,” you say. “Am I allowed to do that?” 

His eyes are apologetic as he looks down at you. “You’re allowed.” 

“No more secrets, right?” you say. “That’s what you promised.” 

Eddie nods slowly, unsure of where this conversation is headed. 

“That means we let each other in,” you continue. 

“You’re in, baby.” 

You bite your lower lip.

“I saw something earlier. Drawings of me that you’ve done.” 

“I sketch you all the time.” 

A few seconds pass before you bring yourself to speak again. “Not the sketches. The actual drawings. The detailed ones.” 

Eddie stills as if turned to alabaster. He looks away from you, but you don’t look away from him as silence permeates the air like a slow rising fog. Color rises in his cheeks, then the tips of his ears. If he doesn’t move, maybe he’ll wake up. Maybe he’ll disappear. A few seconds pass like an hour. The world begins turning again when you take his hand in yours, gently brushing over the back with your thumb. 

Reality fades back in slowly. His breaths, your breaths, his thick swallow. 

“They caught me off guard,” you admit. 

Like a severed branch, his hand falls away from yours. His Adam’s apple bobs as he considers what to say in the wake of embarrassment that toes the line of frustration. 

Eddie’s eyes find their way back to yours. “We’re going through each other’s things now?” 

“I was looking for film for your camera,” you explain. “Pictures fell out of the sketchbook, and when I went to put them back—” 

“They don’t mean anything.” His words are void of any conviction. 

You hold his gaze until his shoulders sag with the weight of the truth. “I’ve never had this, alright?” He makes a weak motion between the two of you. “Someone who makes me feel the way you do.” 

You nod for him to continue. 

“I think about you all the fucking time.” His voice comes out shy and gruff. “You’re beautiful.” 

“So they do mean something.”

“But now you probably just think they’re perverted when it’s not like that at all,” he accuses with a slight waver in his voice. You’ve never seen him quite like this. Frazzled in a raw, open way. “It’s the trust aspect—fuck, I’m not making any sense.” 

He runs his hands through his hair and paces a few steps away. You study the tattoos on his torso. Audentes Fortuna Iuvat is scripted just beneath his collarbones with a slight upwards curve; Latin for fortune favors the bold. A symmetrical, abstract pair of angel wings span beneath it. There’s also the small inverted crucifix on his sternum. The snake curled on the right side of his ribcage beneath his pecs. A considerable host of others have made a canvas out of his skin as well.  

“So help me understand,” you insist. 

You’re messing with him now. You have to be. This is his punishment for ever daring to put his pencil to the paper in that way. A few beats of silence pass.

“Are those things you wanna try?” you coax. 

He finally musters the courage to look at you again. “There’s so much I wanna try with you.” There’s a weighted look in his gaze, like the sentiments it bears stretch beyond this moment. “I wanna do life with you.” 

Warmth kindles in your chest at his words. “Well, here I am,” you say. “Gonna have to try harder to scare me away.” 

A humorless laugh escapes him, but it’s true. Here you are. 

“None of this was ever about the fight or the drawings, E,” you start. “It’s about you. I don’t want you to think you have to keep things from me.” 

You nearly fall into the depths of his eyes as they bore into yours. 

“I can’t mess this up too.” His voice comes out smaller than you’ve heard it. He wouldn’t make it to the other side of losing you.  

“It’s gonna take something terrible for that.” You think for a moment. “Like you cutting off all that gorgeous hair.” 

Eddie laughs. The sound coaxes you to your feet and over to him, where he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. His breath catches in his throat when he feels your fingertips ghost along his waistline where the towel is secured. 

•••

Just relax. 

Those were the words you’d uttered to him a few short moments ago before you tugged his towel down and stripped yourself of your clothes. If anything, it was more like a purr. Something about that low, melodic tone always worked with him. Even when he was the one desperate to get his mouth and hands on you. He listened because you always handled him with care. Always made it good for him. 

The sound that leaves him now seems broken, but Eddie’s never felt more whole. His arms shake where they’re braced behind him on the bed, and his spread thighs tremble. You look up at him from your kneeling position on the carpet before him without pulling away from mouthing at the warm, velvety weight between his thighs that hang like two joint fruits. They draw up when you pay keen attention to one side, making a suctioning motion with your mouth that makes him curse beneath his breath. 

He curls forward with a pleasured groan when you take the entirety of his length into your mouth. The sweet drag of your lips, paired with the encompassing warmth, makes his head spin. You venture down halfway before drawing back up to suckle on the tip with a glimmer in your eyes. Eddie doesn’t get through his next shudder before your lips are descending again, this time all the way to where curly dark hair rests at his base. 

You can feel every vein and pulse along the way. His stomach quivers at the sight as something hot stirs low in his gut. 

One of his hands settles at the back of your head, but he doesn’t push or pull. It’s a grounding gesture. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you pull back up, taking your time. At the top, you lap over his slit, where another pearly bead has formed. He huffs out a ragged breath when you begin to place lingering kisses over the head, then allow your tongue to gently trace along the slightly raised edge that separates it from the rest of his shaft. 

A selfish part of him wants more. 

“Angel…” he sighs. 

You hum around him curiously when he’s back in your mouth. Eddie knows you’re trying to make him cave and guide you into what he wants. His fingers twitch with hesitance at first, but then he applies just enough pressure to encourage you back down. You’re gracious enough to fall into your own bobbing rhythm thereafter. 

His breath stutters when one of your hands dip between your thighs to begin rubbing easy circles over your bud as your mouth continues to work him like a dream. You clench around nothing as warmth and pleasure pool between your thighs. 

“That’s so hot,” he grouses. 

You pull off of him, saliva slinking between your lips and his arousal. “Is it?” you murmur coyly. 

He nods earnestly, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. What he’s not expecting is for you to sit back on your knees and redirect all your attention to yourself, bringing one hand up to cup your breast. Your cheeks warm at your own boldness. He’d seen you like this in his mind and on the page, but only you could bring the vision to life. There’s a pleasant rush to that sort of power. 

He kicks up towards his stomach when you release an airy hum as your middle finger drifts down to run along your entrance and collect the thick moisture gathered there. He scoots closer to the nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer. Eddie strokes himself a few careful times, stopping before the tide can rise. You watch with shining eyes as he rips the foil open and slides the rubber down himself. 

“C’mere,” he rasps, repositioning fully onto the bed. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

You bite your lip as you gently probe your entrance, maintaining eye contact even as your face burns. “Think you do it better?” 

“You already know the answer.” There’s no overt cockiness in his tone. Just a steady sort of confidence that makes your stomach flutter. 

An invisible flip switches. No doubt, because he finally feels as though it’s allowed to. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but you feel the aftermath. It’s in the way he becomes firmer; he isn’t rough, but you can feel the strength behind his movements more than you usually do. It’s also in the way he lifts his head from your center when you’re mere seconds away from falling into thralls of something your entire body craves. 

You plead with your eyes as you meet his gaze, frustrated and desperate all the same. His lips upturn in a small smile that’s barely there. Your thighs fall open as he leans back down, and the fan of his breath makes you shiver. His mouth and fingers have already made you slick with arousal, only to leave you right on the edge. 

“Eddie, please.”

He gently parts you open and presses a gentle kiss to your clit before suckling it into his mouth. You whimper and cant your hips upwards into his face, but he moves away. 

“Easy,” he coos. 

You breathe an apology as he presses his middle finger to your swollen bud and circles it nice and slow. A whimper escapes you as you squirm, trying your best to keep your hips down. As maddening as it is, you like this little game. The challenge. If he maintains this same pressure and speeds up just so, you know it’d be enough to get you there. He knows that too. 

Everything hinges on his call. Eddie’s been at the helm even though he let you think you were for a time.

“Who does it better?” he asks. 

Your stomach flips. “You, Eddie—c’mon.” You huff an exasperated chuckle in spite of yourself. Eddie bites back a smile. Then your voice dips into a tone that’s impossibly sweet. It reminds him just how much he burns with desire himself. “Keep showing me how much better.” 

Eddie braces himself overtop of you and notches at your slick warmth. It takes a moment for him to gather himself, but when he does, he slips into you with ease. Each inch is welcomed with the same steady pressure, all the way until he’s buried entirely. 

While you hum at the fullness, he moans from being welcomed in so wholly. Even though you’re the one stretched to accommodate him, it’s him who needs a moment to get acclimated. It feels like he’s seconds away from falling apart, and he sure as hell isn’t ready to test the theory. 

When you circle your hips in a silent encouragement for him to move, he stills you with a steady hand. You make another attempt.  

“Angel, wait,” he weakly complains. It’s half desperate, half amused. 

“But I need you,” you murmur. 

That’s enough to spur him into an easy rhythm. Your mouth falls open, and he can’t help but run his thumb over your bottom lip. You surprise yourself when you poke your tongue out. Eddie takes a leap of faith and pushes it just past your lips. You close your mouth around it and give it a weak suck before he pulls it back out. 

As it turns out, life imitates art too.  

“You feel so good,” Eddie pants. “Taking me so well, aren’t you?” 

“Mhmm.”

His thrusts reach deeper when you hook your legs around him, eyes briefly scrunching closed as he meets that tender spot within you that threatens to make everything wound tight inside of you unravel. 

Your hands move to scratch down his back, and his hips stutter at the steady pressure of your nails. So you do it again, a little harder, and it sends a strong shiver through him that feels unfairly good. When your hands smooth back around to his chest, fingers grazing his nipples, he manages to gather your wrists in his hands and pin them above your head. Your chest pushes into his.  

“I’m close,” you breathe. “So full.” 

A groan rises in his throat. “Not until I say, alright?” 

Your whine borders on petulant, but you nod anyway. Eddie kisses you for it. First, on your lips, then he trails a few more sloppy, lazy kisses down your chin. When he pulls away, he lets go of your wrists and braces that forearm beside your head, breaths heavy. He’s so close, you can see the faint sun freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose. The grind of his pelvis against your clit makes you clench around him. 

Your breath hitches. “I’m gonna—”

“Not yet, angel,” he says, even as he lowers a hand between your bodies to rub that pulsing part of you with just the right amount of pressure as he continues his deep thrusts. It’s the furthest thing from fair, and he knows it.  

Your mind grows fuzzy with a sudden swell of pleasure that borders on panic. “Eddie, baby, I can’t,” you whimper. “You’re gonna make me come. Please—” 

“Go on, angel,” he soothes. The wave crashes. “That’s it, there you go.”

You close your mouth to stifle the helpless sound that rises up your throat as you arch beneath him. Immediately, you’re thrown into a suspended place where all you can feel is yourself fluttering around him in strong pulses as warmth floods your entire being, pulling him in. He guides you through it with gentle praises that barely register to your ears. 

With a guttural sound Eddie buries himself within your warmth and lets go, his abdomen flexing with each wave that shoots through him. As the radiating pleasure dwindles, he touches his forehead to yours, and your lips just barely brush as you catch your breaths. You raise your hands to his neck to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers, then jolts with sensitivity as you shift beneath him.  

“Sorry,” you whisper. 

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re fine,” he breathes. “You’re perfect. Don’t deserve you.” 

“You’re gonna give me a complex,” you murmur. 

Eddie chuckles and grasps the base of himself to slowly pull out. The loss draws shuddering exhales out of both of you. He’s overcome by a surge of fondness and gratitude. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod as he dots a few kisses to your neck. “Hey, Eddie.” You cup his cheek to get his attention and he nearly melts at the content way you look up at him with slow, sleepy blinks. “Maybe next time you can tie me up.” A small smile plays on your lips, but you mean it. Even though the thought alone gives you wild butterflies. 

Eddie’s swallow doesn’t let on how dizzy the thought makes him. “Yeah?” 

You offer a tired hum. “I trust you.” That alone means everything. 

And with him, you wanted it all. 

-

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!

EDDIE MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[landoughnut]

Bad Idea Right? - LN4

masterlist - request

pairing: lando norris x piastri!fem!reader

summary: lando hadn't expected to fall in love with his teammates sister, and they can only keep it from him for so long

w/c & a/n: 3.8k | it's friday again, then saturday, sunday what?

Being Oscar Piastri’s sister was definitely an experience. 

It was amazing travelling with him around the world and seeing so many different cultures. 

Oscar had always been protective over you, since you were little kids. Though you were both quiet and shy, he wouldn’t stand for someone mistreating you, or making you feel like you were any less than him. 

You had never actually met your brother's teammate, Lando. You tried your best to avoid the paddock. Large crowds of people made you nervous and you preferred to watch it from a more secluded area. 

You had heard a lot about him, that he was a partier and very energetic, but just from that you were sure you too wouldn’t make good friends. 

Up until now, you hadn’t planned on meeting him, but now you see a message from Oscar telling you to come to the garage with Lily tomorrow to officially meet the team.

You felt your stomach squeeze, what would they think of you? You didn’t fit into their chaos, and what if you made a fool of yourself, or if something went wrong? 

You didn’t get much time to stress about it, because a second message from your brother appeared. It reads, “Stop worrying, everything will be great, they’ll love you. Lily will be there with you too.” Of course, he follows that up with a thumbs up emoji.  You roll your eyes, classic Oscar. 

Though his message did help relax your nerves slightly, Lily was your best friend. Seeing as how you were more of a homebody, you never really got out enough to make friends, and with Lily dating your brother, and she was similar to you, it was like your friendship just fell into place. 

You respond to Oscar saying that you’ll be there and afterwards you quickly message Lily asking if she would come to your hotel room to get ready together, to which she answered with an “Of course!”

The rest of the day flew by with you exploring around the area of your hotel. Tomorrow was the Hungarian Grand Prix, and you were excited to watch the race with the team tomorrow. 

Tomorrow arrives and you wake up and get your morning checklist done with things such as brushing your teeth, showering, and doing some skin care. 

You throw on your robe and slippers just in time to hear a knock at your door. You peek through the peephole and see Lily’s eye up close to the hole on the other side of the door, making you yelp and jump back. 

You open the door to her laughing. “I got you good,” she pokes your cheek and steps in the room, pulling you into a hug. 

“That was not funny, Lily, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” You huff and lock your door. 

She rolls her eyes at your dramatics, “Yeah, yeah. Now, time to get you ready! I’m already dressed but we can do our makeup and hair together,” she grins. 

You sit on your bed, “I don’t think I have anything good to wear,” you sigh. Lily thinks for a moment before going to your suitcase. 

She rummages through it for another minute before jumping up and holds a dress out to you. “This is perfect!” 

You look at her like she’s crazy, “That dress is way too tight! I can’t wear that!”

She tilts her head at you, “Why not?”

“Well, I… It’s not… formal?” You try to think of reasons but she shakes her head. 

“Don’t be silly! You’ll look like a supermodel! Plus, you’re going to meet Lando! Maybe you’ll get along, if you know what I mean,” she winks at you. 

You gasp, cheeks flushing, “Lily! Absolutely not,” you scold. 

“Oh come on! You’ve told me that you found him handsome, and you are more than beautiful, so I don’t see a problem,” she shrugs like it’s obvious. 

“You don’t see a problem? From what I’ve seen, Lando doesn’t really do relationships, and Oscar would kill him,” you cross your arms and look away from her. 

“Well, don’t trust everything you see in the media until you see for yourself, maybe he has a reason. And Oscar would probably be upset at first, but he’d come around.”

You think for a moment before nodding, “Alright, well, enough talking about a made up scenario, let’s get ready before Oscar starts complaining.”

Lily agrees, “Here,” she puts the dress in your hands, “Go put it on.” You look at her for a moment before going over to the bathroom to change. Once it’s on you look at yourself in the mirror, it’s safe to say that you were rather happy with what you saw, maybe Lily was right.

You step out and she gasps, clapping her hands. “I knew it! You already look heaven-sent, and we haven't even done hair or makeup,” she beams at you. 

You blush, “Thank’s Lily.” She then tells you to follow her as you two go to the vanity. “We can do you first, but I want to do it.”

“Go ahead,” she smiles and sets up your speaker to play the playlist you made together. You first blow dry her hair and straighten it like how she requested. Then you clip it back and begin doing her makeup, she usually didn’t put on much, so it didn’t take long to finish up. 

“Voilà!” You spin her chair around, “Gorgeous.”

She nods in approval, “It looks great! Your turn!” She jumps out of the chair excitedly. She starts by drying your hair, and then puts some of the oils you use to make your hair smooth, shiny, and soft. She then goes in with a hair curler and does it just enough so that they are very loose and just add some volume. 

Next Lily spins your chair to face her as she does your makeup, somehow doing a very detailed process that you didn’t even know how to do. “When did you become a makeup professional?”

She smiles, “Since I had such a stunning client.” 

“You flatter me too much,” you giggle. She finishes soon after and spins you. 

You blink for a moment, “Wow, Lily, you outdid yourself!” You look at some different angles of yourself in the mirror, “Thank you!” 

“Before we head out, do you want to put on your jewelry while I find you some shoes?”

“Yes, please.” You go to and put on your gold necklaces, rings, earrings, and bracelets. You loved having a lot of jewelry on, you felt an outfit was never complete without it. You quickly spray on your perfume and head back towards Lily, who was holding out a pair of short heels that perfectly complemented the dress. 

You take them and thank her while putting them on. 

She checks her phone, “Time to go! Oscar is waiting in the lobby,” she shows you his text. You shut off the lights and step out of the room, making sure it's locked before heading down where your brother was waiting. 

“Hi, Osc,” you smile and pull him into a tight hug, “are you excited for today? I have a good feeling about it.” 

He brightens, “I am, and I’m excited for you to meet the team!” You let go of him and he hugs Lily next, kissing her head before telling you both to follow him. 

About twenty minutes pass before you arrive at the paddock, your nerves come back seeing all the people, but Lily just puts a comforting hand on your arm. 

Some people take pictures of the three of you on your way to the McLaren garage, but you pay no mind to them and instead focus on your brother who gives you comforting smiles. 

You arrive after a few more minutes and Zak greets Oscar with a pat on the back. “Oscar! Who’s our special guest today,” the man says looking at you. 

“This is my sister, she’s been to the races just too shy to come here,” he chuckles. 

“Oscar,” you drag his name out in a now shy mumble, looking down at the ground, your face now turning pink.

Zak senses your discomfort, “No worries! We’re happy to have you, really,” he smiles at you holding out his hand to shake. 

You look up and feel yourself untense at his kindness, you shake his hand and he pats it before telling you he has to go and that it was nice to meet you. 

Oscar happily introduces you to some of the engineers and mechanics, who you had some longer conversations with. Many compliment you and seem genuinely interested, which makes you feel a lot more comfortable. 

Now you were walking with Oscar and Lily towards the lounge area, where you would be staying to watch the race. 

However you see a blur of papaya and your eyes widen a little as you realize it’s Lando rushing past you all. Though he doesn’t get very far before Oscar calls out to him, “Lando! Come meet my sister!”

Lando turns around and his eyes get wide as he looks at you. Oscar beckons him over with a hand wave and Lando starts to make his way to you all - his eyes never leaving yours - when he trips. 

Luckily he saved himself but now as he stood in front of you, cheeks and ears bright red, he seemed to forget how to speak.

“Lando?” Oscar tries. Lando seemed to have not heard him and you looked around trying to avoid the Brits eyes. “Hellooo, mate,” Oscar snaps his fingers in front of his face, narrowing his eyes at the way Lando was looking at you. 

That seems to grab his attention because now Lando turned to look at him. “Oh! H-hey, uh- the floor’s a little, uh, wobbly, you know, uhm, tripped me there,” he laughs nervously, looking embarrassed. 

He could slap himself. 

First he trips and humiliates himself in front of the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on, and now he’s said the floor is wobbly. 

What an idiot. 

Lily smiles and looks at you, who’s flustered from his gaze, and then she looks at him blushing while glancing at you, “The floor is wobbly?” she asks. 

Lando looks down at his hand, “Uh, y-yeah, they should probably fix that. So.. you’re Oscar's sister?”

You nod, “Yeah. It’s nice to meet you,” you look at the boy in front of you, now seeing him up close you realize he’s hotter than the cameras capture.  

Oscar looks back and forth between you two, “Yeah… I don’t like this. We’re going to the lounge now. Bye, Lando.”

Lily smacks his arm but he starts walking away. You sigh and give Lando a small smile before following him. Lando’s eye’s followed your back, maybe a little lower, as you walked away. 

Lily stayed just long enough that she caught his gaze and heard a quiet “Wow,” while leaving. 

Oscar won the race. 

You swore your throat was going to be sore from your excited screams, and your makeup must have been smudged from how much you were crying, but none of that mattered right now. 

Once Oscar makes it back to where you are you jump into his arms and squeeze him, crying on his shoulder. “I’m so so proud of you!” you somehow manage to say in between sobs. 

He hugs you back tightly, “Thank you,” he whispers. 

The next race was Belgium and you were back in the garage before the race. You were sitting with Lily when Lando came over and sat in front of you. “Hello. I promise I won’t embarrass myself this time,” he smiles at you.

“Hi, Lando. What are you doing here?” you ask him and Lily nods her head at him in greeting. 

“I’m here to, uh…” he pauses for a moment, his confidence leaving him, “get your number?”

You laugh, “Is that a question?” Lily excuses herself and you glare at her. 

“Um, yes? Or no- wait, no, you don’t have to, I just-” Lando stumbles over his words. You found it cute, he wasn’t like what you had expected of him. You thought he would be rather cocky and stuck up, but you were pleasantly surprised. 

You cut him off by handing him your phone, the contacts app pulled up for him to put in his number, “Here.” 

He looks surprised but takes the phone and puts his number in, making his contact name “Lando :)”. You smile as he hands your phone back, “I like it.”

You found yourself texting him more often, even facetime some nights. You’d become good friends, but you hadn’t told your brother about getting closer to Lando, you know he’d start assuming things. 

Though you did keep Lily up to date with everything, and she promised not to say anything to your brother.

A few weeks later at the Singapore Grand Prix, you were walking in the paddock to meet Lily in the garage when Lando came up from behind you. He takes the sunglasses off of the top of your head and places them on. “Lando!” you laugh as he does some silly poses with them on. 

He grins, “I think they look better on me, no?” You shake your head and reach out to take them off of his face. As you do you notice his eyes were fixed on your lips, making you blush as you put them on yourself. 

He reaches out and fixes a piece of your hair that the wind blew to the other side, “There you go,” his smile softens, “I have to go now, but I’ll see you soon.”

“Sounds good.”

Lando won today's race, and you were overjoyed for him. He’d met you when he was done showering after the celebration. You were currently on your hotel balcony. “Why aren’t you out celebrating with everyone? You did win the race after all,” you ask him looking out at the night sky.

“I don’t want to celebrate with anyone else,” he shrugs. Looking over at you. 

“I’m flattered, that’s really sweet, I didn’t take you as the sappy type,” you smile. Turning your head, you realize just how close you are. 

Lando looks at your eyes for a moment, before his eyes drop. He leans towards you, eyes fluttering, but at the last moment you turn your head to the side. 

He backs up, embarrassed, “I-I’m sorry, did I read this wrong? I though-”

You quickly shake your head, “No! No, Lando. It’s fine, really, you read right, it's just that I don’t know if this is a good idea… Oscar might-”

“I think Oscar is his own person,” Lando says. He takes a strand of your hair and twirls it around his finger, “You, however, are also your own person. I really like you, and I’m pretty sure you like me. If you don’t want-”

You cut him off by pulling his shirt collar down and kissing him. He lets out a surprised sound but quickly reciprocates and kisses you back. You slide your hands up his neck and into his curls, as his hands go around your waist pulling you closer. 

He lets out a pleasant sound when you tug on his hair. 

He feels like he’s dreaming, the taste of you, the scent of your perfume, your hands in his hair, your mouth on his, he thinks he might pass out. He’d never admit it but he had scenarios in his head of how your first kiss would go, but this is better than all of them 

You break apart, breathing heavy and swollen lips. Lando chases your mouth, kissing you once more, “Oscar’s going to kill me,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Maybe. But this is worth it,” you whisper back, kissing him again. 

That night was a turning point for you both. Lando had been almost stuck to your side in the paddock and at events you went to. 

You tried not to display anything that wouldn’t look platonic, but Oscar had suspicions. Especially after he’s seen the love sike look on Lando’s face when he looks at you, or when he would guide you around the garage with a hand on your back.

One time he even entered the lounge where you were sitting with Lando and could have sworn he saw him quickly take his hand off of your thigh.

Lando tried to take every opportunity there was to give you kisses during race weekends. Whether you’d be hiding behind tires or the back of a building. You felt the line between liking him and loving him blur.

He’d also sometimes send you a message if he couldn’t be with you because you were with Oscar. It was usually something like, “Baby, you look way too beautiful, I might crash the car,” and every time it made you blush without fail, which he seemed to take too much pride in.

After another time period passes, people start to question whether you and Lando were friends or dating. Oscar had sent you some articles about it and you tried your best to cover up the stories, which surprisingly worked. 

“I think I want to tell him soon,” you mumble to Lando. You were in your hotel bed, laying on top of him, on the brink of sleep. Your head rested on his chest with one of his hands tracing shapes on your back and the other playing with your hair. 

He pauses for a moment, “Are you sure? I don’t want your relationship with him to get ruined because of me.”

You nod your head, “It won’t, he’ll understand I think. I love you,” you whisper. 

You felt him tense under you, “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I-”

He cuts you off, tilting your head towards him to place a soft kiss to your mouth, “I love you, too.”

When you said you wanted to tell your brother, you didn’t plan for it to be like this. You were in a hospital bed after passing out from the heat when you and Lando were going on a walk.

Lando had panicked but was thankful you two had only gotten about a minute's walk away from the car. You hadn’t woken up yet, so he picked up his speed even more on his way to the hospital. 

After some time and medication you woke up to see Lando’s worried expression while he was on the phone with your brother. He was pacing in and out of the room, “Oh! Oscar, I have to go, she just woke up. Yeah. Mhm. Okay. Bye,” he hung up and sat down on the bed. 

“Bloody hell, never do that again baby, you scared me terribly,” he kissed your forehead. “Do you need anything? Water, food, more pillows? Is it too cold in here? I can-”

You put your hand over his mouth, giggling, “I’m alright, thank you, if I need anything I’ll let you know.” Lando seemed pleased with your answer so he nodded. “What did my brother say?”

“Well, he was too worried to ask about why I was with you so he just said he’ll be here soon,” he replies, kissing you gently, in fear of hurting you.

You must be cursed with bad luck today because Oscar came rushing into the room just before Lando could back away. 

Lando feels his stomach drop and Oscar’s mouth opens and he looks between the two of you. 

You watch as your brother’s face goes through about ten different emotions, “You- he- him?! He was just… kissing you.. and… I don’t feel so good…” Lando hops off the bed and catches your brother before he hits the ground. 

Lando places him on the bed, and you would be laughing about the situation but you wanted to wait for your brother to wake up first, which he does after a few more moments. 

“Oscar! Welcome back mate,” Lando pats his head. 

“Get your hand off of me. Why were you kissing my sister,” Oscar glares at the boy. 

“Whatttt?” Lando chuckles nervously, “I think that faint really had you seeing-”

Oscar cuts him off, sitting up, “I know what I saw, and it was disgusting. Now answer my question.”

You sigh, “We’re dating.” Oscar looks away tense, but then he relaxes a little and looks at you with a face as if asking for how long. “For a couple of months now…” you trail off. 

Oscar’s mouth drops, “Months?! Why haven’t either of you told me?”

Lando chews his bottom lip nervously, “We were going to, I swear. But then you were stressed about the constructors championship, and it seemed like each time we planned to something happened, and I-”

Oscar cuts him off, “I don’t like this. She’s my sister and you’re… you.” Lando makes an offended face at that, making you chuckle. “This will take time for me to get used to, and I’m upset that you guys didn’t tell me, but if you’re both really happy I have no right to not support you.”

You go towards your brother and pull him into a tight hug, “Thank you! I love you.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless, “Yeah yeah, I love you too.” He looks over your shoulder, narrowing his eyes, “I’m watching you,” he mouths at Lando, making the boy gulp. “You treat her right, understand? Or I’m running you off the track.”

Lando nods, “Of course, I wouldn't dream of otherwise.” 

Though Oscar had accepted you two, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t a little salty. For the next week he would glare at Lando like a child who’s gotten his toy taken away. He can’t be mad for long though, not when he notices how happy you are with him. 

That brings you to now, the final race of the season, Abu Dhabi. There was only one lap left and you were standing outside with the team as you watched Lando finally cross the finish line, winning the constructors championship and his fourth race. 

When Lando finally puts the car in the first place spot, he jumps out and takes his helmet off as he runs towards you. You barely have time to question anything before he’s picking you up over the barrier, and smashing his lips to yours. 

The team hollers around you, wolf whistling and cheering. Cameras flash as well but it’s all a blur to you. You hold Lando just as tightly and kiss him back. Your kiss is unfortunately interrupted by a gagging sound from behind you. 

Oscar looks at you two, “I know I said I supported you but please, I don’t need to see this, I might puke.” 

Lily comes up next to him, “Leave them alone, they’re adorable!” You gratefully smile at her and Oscar lets out a dramatic sigh. 

You laugh and go to hug him, “Sorry. Good race, Oscar, I’m proud of you.” 

He thanks you and walks to Lando, patting him on the back, “Congratulations, mate, you were great.” 

Lando brightens, “Thanks! And we’ll keep the PDA to the minimum.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “Really?”

You and Lando glance at each other, shaking your heads and speaking in sync, “Nah.”

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[quickdeaths]

Masaru Yaguchi sat up, wearily, wiping blood from his face and then drying his hands on his clothes. On shaky legs, he pushed himself up, only to nearly be knocked from his feet once more as he felt arms clamp around his waist. "Masaru-nii!" Bleary vision wasn't enough to keep him from recognizing the dark-haired girl with glasses and the familiar address. Lightly forcing her hands away, given how sore he was, Masaru took the moment to study her face.

"You're... Anzu?" She nodded empathically. "Anzu," she agreed, making a circle with her hands. "Not △△ anymore," she added, using her fingers to form an X. "Okay," Masaru mumbled with a gentle nod, before looking past her to Juzo Sakakura half-dragging away his little sibling. "And that's..." "Shinobu-chan." "Right. Shinobu." It was unfamiliar on his lips, but not unpleasant. He sighed, looking to Sonia running after the two of them, and then over to the crowd, where he could pick out Haruna standing watching.

"I really fucked up coming here today, didn't I," he murmured with a soft sigh, not really expecting from an Anzu any kind of response. "I've got to go try and take care of this before I accidentally do any more damage." Anzu looked at him like she was worried. Still such a sweet kid. "Are you sure? You look like you're about to fall over, Masaru-nii..." "It's fine," he said, forcing a smile and a wave of his hand. "The older sibling has to take some responsibility. Ah, and speaking of, tell your sister..."

Tell her what, exactly? Hi? Sorry? He didn't even know where to start, and besides, running away was how he dealt with most things. "Nevermind." He shook his head. Anzu frowned. eyes flicking back towards the crowd before looking at him again. "I mean, I think Haru-nee really wants to talk to you." With another sigh and another shake of his head, Masaru pushed his hair out of his face in some vain attempt at keeping blood from matting it. "I don't think it's a good idea, and I've got to go deal with that," he said, gesturing towards Shinobu and Sakakura. "But, it was good to see you, Anzu-chan. Thanks for still being Shinobu's friend."

Nearly stumbling as he took a few steps forward, he stopped first at Sonia's side. He wouldn't easily catch up to Sakakura anyway, so he'd just have to hope that his former junior would stop when he asked. "Nevermind-san." Masaru knew he didn't look very presentable, with blood smeared on his face and his jacket, but there wasn't much he could do about it. "Thanks for the tour, and the conversation. Sorry that it turned out like this." From how she'd cried out, and called after Sakakura at first, she must have been close to his sibling, too. Maybe really close, but, that wasn't really his place to pry, was it?

"Don't let this tarnish your opinion of Shinobu too much, though, alright?" He offered a weak smile. "Living in that house takes a heavy toll." Especially if Shinobu had ended up here. They hadn't trained in archery at all, so their father must have crushed Shinobu under pressure to try and make a diamond capable of attending Hope's Peak Academy. "I guess we just dealt with it in different ways." Not that he could blame them. Who knew what would have happened if he'd stayed? "Anyway, it was nice to meet you, and I appreciate you showing me around. I think I'll probably leave after I get this straightened out, as much as I can, so I guess your job here is done."

Even knowing he wouldn't catch up without Sakakura stopping, Masaru started after him, calling out with a hand raised. "Sakakura-kun! Hold on a moment!" Sakakura grunted as he slowed, then stopped, then slowly turned around. "Yaguchi-san." Masaru weakly laughed. "I guess you're too old to still be calling me 'senpai.' Sorry, but, can I have a minute with my sibling?" Sakakura didn't give him any obvious answer, but neither did he move away, so Masaru decided to take that in the affirmative.

Shinobu was barely standing themselves, blood practically gushing from a nasty forehead wound from where Sakakura's knuckles had split the skin. The right side of their face was clean, though, and Masaru could see the scar sliced across their cheek. No prizes for guessing where that came from, he thought to himself. "Shinobu," he started. "I can see that you're angry, and I'm sorry about whatever's happened to you since I left. You don't have to forgive me right now, but..." He reached out, putting his hand on their shoulder. "You should know that whatever is happening in that house, you don't deserve it."

They looked at him, then angled down their face and bit his wrist. Like a wolf tearing flesh from a kill, they jerked back, ripping open his arm, and then spitting the blood that coated their lips and teeth back in his face. "Die." "Dammit," Sakakura grumbled, pivoting and driving his fist into Shinobu's stomach, causing them to spit blood and saliva into the air before going fully limp over his arm. "You really didn't have to do that," Masaru mumbled with a wince. "It's not a big deal, Sakakura-kun."

Sakakura didn't seem to have any need to explain himself, and Masaru supposed that wasn't a point he could contest. "I'm not pressing any charges, and if it makes it easier, you can say whatever you want about how it got started to make it look like my problem, not Shinobu's." Masaru sighed as he looked at his wrist, dropping blood from where Shinobu had sunk their teeth in. He could do that much for them, couldn't he? "And get them looked at by a nurse? You always hit so hard, Sakakura-kun."

Shinobu's school bag was on the ground, dropped from where they'd first seen Masaru, and Sakakura lifted it up, Shinobu unconscious thrown over his shoulder in a loose fireman's carry. A notebook tumbled out of the front, skidding across the ground, though Sakakura didn't look like he cared about retrieving it. "If you don't want to get wrapped up in this and make it a big deal, Yaguchi-san, you should get out of here." Masaru nodded. "Fair enough. Consider me gone, then." And with one final wave towards Sonia, he began to leave.

It was then that the pain she'd felt began to fade. Sonia had half-mumbled a 'thank you' to those who had helped her up, but her focus was elsewhere. Not of the bruises she'd likely develop or the crowd's commotion. But of the fact that Shinobu had insisted the situation, the fight, was a family affair.

Sonia looked over the man she'd been escorting around campus: through the blood and swelling in his features, she noticed a similar jawline, similarly shaped eyes, a beauty mark in the exact same place on their faces. Shinobu's hair was a deep shade of red, clearly dyed, while his was left as a more naturally-occurring shade, and yet they were undeniably related. His reflexes were sharp like hers, but his gaze was softer, kinder, less intimidating. He lacked the pressure, Sonia realized, that Shinobu was under, and in return he smiled, entirely unconcerned with the obsession of talents that Hope's Peak had. Maybe he had been an Archer at one point, but from his distinct absence from Shinobu's home the time she was permitted to visit, she had a feeling he was an archer for the Yaguchi family no more.

It was then that Anzu had pushed through, Sonia so deep in her thoughts that she barely noticed her make her way through the crowd. But her efforts to dissuade Shinobu were equally in vain. She felt frozen in place: if even Anzu had no effect on stopping her, what chance did anyone else have? Shinobu was in a fit of rage that seemingly no one understood, including her brother, and yet she refused to stop. She wouldn't, likely until he stopped breathing. That second year student had gone to get help, hadn't he? She couldn't imagine what the school's Board of Governors would think of this-

But all thoughts of verbal punishments, suspensions and expulsions and the like, were silenced as a larger, burlier figure than Anzu's made his way forward. And unlike her, the crowd parted easily for him: Sakakura-sensei was intimidating even just standing still, but with anger and disappointment over his face? Even some of the alumni shivered, and they might have very well been his classmates. But niceties and barked orders were ignored in favor of Sakakura's fist being firmly planted in Shinobu's cheek. Harder than her brother may have retaliated in defense. Perhaps even harder than Shinobu herself had thrown at him.

But hard enough to bring Shinobu Yaguchi down, a shriek ripping out of Sonia's throat before she even realized she was screaming. "SHINOBU!" She cried out, causing several turned heads to look at her, assuming Sonia Nevermind was just another one of Cold Prince Shinobu-kun's many fangirls. Not that Sonia paid any heed to the stares: her hands were clapped over her mouth in shock. At Shinobu's defeat, at the fact she'd just screamed her given name, terribly rude and informal, loud enough for the entire courtyard to hear.

"Wait, hold on, what are you doing!?" She demanded. She probably should have seen to the elder Yaguchi, as she'd been responsible for showing him around campus. But for the meantime, she passed him, bleeding and bruised and likely bewildered about what had just happened, to reach out for Juzo Sakaura's free arm. His other hand was occupied in dragging Shinobu to her feet, presumably to haul her off somewhere the visiting alumni would not have to interact with her. Considering she'd beaten one of their own to a near pulp, it would only tarnish the school's image further to keep her around. "Where are you taking her, Sakakura-sensei?"

"It's none of your business, Princess!" He shouted back, forgoing the respect of utilizing her last name as teachers were supposed to. Frustration barely held back, he seemed to be in no mood to deal both with an angered Shinobu Yaguchi and a girl with way too much power and authority showing a large amount of concern for her. A call from Sonia Nevermind's parents was enough to make every school staffer's life hell, and if Masaru Yaguchi decided to press charges against his own sister, well...the Board of Governors would make things difficult for Kyosuke Munakata.

And Jin Kirigiri, but that was beside the point.

[agaypanic]

To Love a Monster (Emmett Cullen X Human!Reader)

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Request Something! | AO3

Kinktober Day 31: Monsterfucking

Summary: Emmett never thought that he’d fall in love with a human. It’s too dangerous, there’s so many things that could go wrong. But when you look at him with those pleading eyes of yours, how could he ever say no?

A/N: happy halloween!! i know today’s literally the last day of october but i swear ill get the other kinktober fics done and posted. im finally getting medicated so i think that’ll help with my procrastination/lack of inspiration lmao emmett cums inside but reader does NOT get pregnant with a hybrid freak like bella did

C/W: unprotected p in v sex, interspecies relationship (human and vampire), soft dom!emmett, emmett trying to not literally break you, slight pain kink

***

It was so wrong, being with Emmett. It was dangerous, the amount of power he had over you without even trying. He could kill you, drain you dry without a second thought.

But you didn’t care. You loved him, and he loved you. He made sure that was known by telling you a million times a day and by being extremely gentle with you. Sometimes, he treated you like you were glass, which annoyed you every now and then. But when you were with Emmett, who had extreme strength, you might as well be glass.

Sometimes, Emmett was scared to be with you. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he didn’t want to accidentally lose his resolve around you. But when you looked at him, eyes full of want and wandering hands somehow warming his stone-cold body, he could never refuse you.

“God, you feel so good, babe.” Emmett groaned as he stared up at your naked form bouncing on his cock. Although he liked to be in control, he’d occasionally let you take the lead. If he was feeling generous, he’d even let you tie him up like he was now. 

Emmett thrusted up into you, and your hips stuttered. “So big, Emmett.” You sighed, splaying your hands out on his broad chest to keep yourself steady as you kept riding him. “Makes me feel- ah! So full.”

Your boyfriend kept fucking into you, but it wasn’t enough for him. There was only so much he could do without his hands. 

“Wanna touch you.” He complained, tugging at his restraints half-heartedly, knowing they’d snap if he actually used force.

“Where, Em?” You asked teasingly. One of your warm hands left his chilled chest to grope your breast. “Here?” Or…” Slowly, your hand trailed down your stomach, inching closer to where you and Emmett met. Two fingers ghosted your clit, and you clenched around Emmett’s hard cock at the sensation. “Maybe here?”

While you continued riding and teasing yourself, Emmett’s eyes were glued to you. You looked so damn perfect, he wanted to be the one touching you and making you whine the way you were now. 

Sensing he was getting frustrated, you leaned close to Emmett. “Do you wish you could touch me, honey? Fuck me and tease me until I’m creaming all over your cock?” Emmett let out a moan so guttural it sounded like a growl. You smiled, knowing you were about to get what you were really wanting. “Is that what you want, Emmett?”

He answered by ripping the rope that was holding him to shreds, freeing his wrists so he could finally get his hands on you. Emmett grabbed your hips and flipped you so you were the one underneath him before thrusting in and out of you like a jackhammer.

Emmett half expected you to start yowling in pain from the force of his thrusts and his iron grip. But instead, you let out an endless string of moans and locked your legs around his vast body so he wouldn’t get away. 

“So -ah, so fucking, fuck, good!” You were quickly losing your sense, becoming overwhelmed by Emmett stretching your cunt and practically slamming into your cervix. It just hurt so good.

“You’re so tight.” He hissed, fangs coming out in the midst of his heavy lust. “And so wet for me.” He dipped his head down to rest in the crook of your neck. His lips ghosted over your pulse point, your pumping blood spurring him on. Very lightly, Emmett dragged his pointed teeth over your skin. Not enough to make you bleed, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. “And you smell…” He took a deep breath, sighing as he reluctantly pulled away from you and sped up his thrusts. “Fucking delicious.”

Feeling close, you reached down to rub your clit, but your hand was quickly smacked out of the way. Emmett wanted to be the one to make you come. 

He rubbed your clit in a fast circular motion, his other hand holding your hip with enough force to not end up breaking it. You’d likely have a bruise that he would surely baby you over.

It wasn’t long before your orgasm hit, and Emmett grinned down devilishly at you as your eyes rolled back. “That’s right, babe. Cream all over my cock.” 

You did just as he said, orgasm prolonging as Emmett continued his ministrations to reach his own peak. Soon enough, he was painting your walls with his cum, fucking it deeper and deeper into you. As you both came down from your highs, Emmett slowed his thrusts. But he didn’t stop them. Instead, he decided to keep fucking you at a snail’s pace until you were ready to get absolutely wrecked again.

“That was…” You took a deep breath to collect yourself, letting out an airy laugh. “Wow.”

Emmett smirked, leaning down to kiss you deeply. “If you thought that was good, wait until you become a vampire. We wouldn’t leave my room for a week.”

***

Twilight Taglist: @wedfan2 @natashamaximoff-69 @pink-hufflepuff

Emmett Cullen Taglist: @fuckshitslover

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Remmick x reader, established relationship, NSFW(maybe some fluff?)

Imagine reader noticing that Remmick is frustrated when he returns home, perhaps a hunt wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped/imagined.

So reader decides to help him relax by making this night all about him. Settling him down and kneeling in front of him, no matter how much he wants to grab the reader (with some convincing) they make sure he’s taken care of first.

(Give this man head till he’s shooting blanks and whimpering fr) who said that- omg

Gender neutral pronouns and afab if that’s okay :)!

Have a great day/night!

Remmy||Remmick x GN!Reader with afab

Summary—after a frustrating hunt remmick comes home to be takes care of y/n.

Warnings— oral sex (male receiving) light teasing one singular use of y/n.

Low key one of my favorites I giggled when I saw you back in my inbox 🙂‍↕️

You know that look. That frustration set to Remmick’s jaw, the way his shoulders roll like he’s trying to shake off a weight he can’t put down. He walks in the door still sharp with tension, his eyes a little too red, his fangs just barely peeking from under his lip. You don’t need to ask what happened, you can feel it in your bones. The hunt didn’t go as planned.

You meet him halfway, your touch gentle on his chest. “Rem,” you murmur, “come sit.”

“I’m fine,” he lies, voice rough, hands twitching like he doesn’t trust himself to touch you just yet. “Just… wasn’t enough. Didn’t hit right.”

You guide him to the edge of the bed anyway, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket. “Let me help.”

He hesitates. You don’t.

You ease him down, kneeling between his legs, hands warm on his thighs. He tenses immediately, a low growl building in his throat. “Sweetheart…” It’s half warning, half plea. “Don’t start something I can’t finish. You know I’ll lose it—I’ll want—”

“Shh,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee. “You don’t have to do anything. Let me take care of you tonight, Remmy.”

He exhales through clenched teeth, head falling back, hands gripping the sheets instead of your hair like you know he wants to. It takes coaxing. Whispered reassurances. Tender strokes along his thighs, careful kisses against his hip bones, slow enough to drive him mad.

When you finally free him, he’s already leaking, needy and flushed, and you swear his breath catches like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs. You start slowly, savoring the way he twitches under your touch, how his thighs tremble the longer you drag your tongue over him. You use your mouth like worship hands keeping his hips steady, even when they jerk up instinctively.

“Fuck—baby,” he groans, voice rasping low, almost broken. “That mouth… shit, you’re gonna kill me.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Rem,” you hum, lips brushing the head of his cock. “You’ll be fine.”

But he’s not fine. He’s wrecked. Moaning and panting, hands fisting the sheets so he doesn’t grab you and flip you over. You see it in the way his jaw tightens, his eyes glowing with restraint.

“Please,” he breathes, thighs trembling, “please, I’m close—”

You don’t let up. You suck him deeper, throat flexing around him until he chokes on a moan and spills with a cry, hips bucking despite himself. But you’re not done, not even close.

You coax him through it. Keep him in your mouth, soft licks and messy strokes, dragging it out until he’s shaking. Until he’s whimpering yes, whimpering and trying to pull away, too sensitive but still twitching in your hand.

“Fuck, fuck, Y/n I—can’t—please, no more,” he gasps, eyes glassy and unfocused.

You finally pull off, lips swollen and spit-slick, and press gentle kisses along his stomach while his chest heaves. His hand finds your hair at last, trembling fingers smoothing it back from your face like he’s grounding himself.

“You’re gonna kill me permanently one day,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

You grin against his skin. “Only if you’re lucky.”

Later, you crawl into his lap, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before cupping his cheek. He’s dazed, flushed, still panting a little as you kiss him slow and sweet.

He leans into you like a man starved soft now, pliant. Not from hunger or lust. Just love.

“You always know what I need,” he murmurs, arms wrapping tight around your waist.

You kiss his forehead. “That’s what I’m here for, Remmy.”

[unproduciblesmackdown]

skinamarble hornets, i was like i hope my favorite skinamascene has been uplomarinked on youtube....reminds me of that season one marble hornets entry that's the First House Visit and how i saw it described somewhere as like "absolutely nothing happens, & it's terrifying" & it reminds me of the torment of watching as the series was released & Every Time something came out, no matter what happened in like setting, atmosphere, plot, scares, there'd be someone going "ugh another Nothing entry" over the most crucial &/or enjoyable shit so long as it didn't feature [& he's cookin hot dogs on the stove???] & didn't feature it like every other minute for good measure. as though a format that is predictable, like the promise of the same kind of scene in the same intervals of timing, would actually be scary or at all interesting. shoutout to these the entries, or even intervals of time within entries, where "absolutely nothing happens" and it's called suspense in knowing it Could, tension in an unsafe, uneasy, unsettling situation in the meantime, & then also potential followup recontextualization that only creates more tension for later similar material. ("absolutely nothing" happens (of course, actually, things happen, but) in the skinamarink scene save for the literal last few seconds when the "jumpscare" is a very brief change in audio & visuals which is neither actually that loud nor like showing anything scary(tm) (technically a la marble hornets i think people say you can like see an arm extend for a nanosecond but i never catch it if so lol) but rather hits at all because of 8 minutes of suspense & tension & Nothing Happening But It Could) (also bravely standing up like "it's fine that skinamarink has some jumpscares, including the obvious few even jumpier than this" like who cares if it's "easy" necessarily & also that Knowing such startlement can happen ramps up the tension even when it didn't, but it could've. like so)

[fortunxa]

── .✦ H E A D C A N O N #2

boobs, ass, or thighs kind of girl?

#cw. Jinx x fem!reader (established relationship), needy!Jinx, fluff & mild angst, smut drabble bonus (thigh riding/humping). mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ

Jinx masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

Jinx is 100% a thighs kind of girl.

There’s something about them that undoes her. The strength hidden under soft skin, the way they shift when you walk, the way they flex when you sit. She notices every little detail without even meaning to.

Any excuse to get her hands—or herself—on them, she’s taking it.

Sitting? She’s dropping into your lap without even asking, one leg thrown over yours, draped casually like you’re a chair made just for her. “Best seat in the house,” she’ll murmur, proud and smug, her arms thrown around your neck like she’s claiming territory. She’ll bounce a little, wriggle around until she’s perfectly molded against you, then settle there like she’s got no plans of moving for the next six hours. “Perfect fit.” Bonus if she’s working on something. She’ll plop down with a huff, clever hands already busy. “Shh, stay still. You’re part of the workbench now.” She will then lean back with a satisfied hum, her back pressing against your chest, occasionally wiping grease, paint, or ink onto your clothes without thinking.

Sitting next to each other? Her palm is already sliding over your thigh like it belongs there (it does). She’ll grip it casually, thumb drawing lazy circles, or drum an absentminded beat only she can hear. “Mine,” she’ll whisper sometimes, not even looking at you, her fingers squeezing a little tighter like she’s making sure you know it, too. No matter where you are, no matter who’s around—her hands always remember where to land. Obviously loves it when you throw your legs over her lap.

Standing? That doesn’t stop her either. She’s sidling up close, hands trailing down your sides until she can squeeze the tops of your thighs, humming low in her throat like she’s found treasure.

If you’re wearing anything even slightly revealing? Good luck. She’ll whistle low under her breath the moment she sees you, dragging her gaze slowly. “Holy shit,” she’ll mutter, leaning in close, “You tryna kill me? ‘Cause it’s workin’. Dead. Done. Bury me between those thighs. Tell ‘em it’s what I would’ve wanted.” You’ll catch her eyes flicking downward mid-conversation, lingering just a second too long before she grins, all teeth and bad intentions. Half the time she doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath watching you.

Laying between your thighs is one of her favorite things in the entire world, though. The way your legs bracket her body, caging her in, keeping her close and protected—it makes her feel invincible and small all at once. When she’s between them, she’s in no hurry to move. She’ll sprawl out on her stomach, arms hooked lazily around your leg, chin propped on your thigh as she peers up at you with that lopsided grin that always spells trouble. “Hope you weren’t planning on goin’ anywhere,” she’ll chuckle, slow and sticky sweet. “’Cause you’re stuck with me now, sugarplum. Whole lotta legs, not nearly enough me on ‘em.” She absolutely loves using your thighs as a pillow.

And gods forbid you run your fingers through her hair while she’s there. She’ll melt instantly—slack-jawed, eyes fluttering shut, a soft whimper slipping out before she can catch it. She’ll cling harder, pulling herself deeper between your legs like she’s trying to crawl inside your skin and stay there forever.

But when she misses you—really misses you—Jinx gets different.

It doesn’t take much—a bad dream, a rough night, a few hours too long without hearing your voice—and suddenly, she’s at your door, jittery and restless like she’s been pacing for hours, her smile stretched too tight, her laugh too high. She doesn’t even say hello, just collides with you before dropping to her knees with no grace or pride, arms around your hips, face pressed into your stomach. “Told myself I was fine,” she mumbles, voice cracking. “Lied right through my damn teeth.”

And before you can even process it, she’s climbing into your lap, straddling your thigh, pressing against you like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she lets go. Her hands are frantic and everywhere at once like she’s trying to memorize you all over again. Then she starts moving—small, desperate rocks of her hips against you, chasing comfort, chasing anything that feels real.

Her breath catches in her throat, a soft, broken moan escaping before she even realizes it. “Fuck, baby…” she whimpers, forehead pressing hard against your shoulder, “missed you. Missed you so bad, it’s stupid. Thought maybe… thought maybe you—” Her face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot, desperate little gasps brushing your skin as she rocks harder and faster like she’s trying to grind the fear, hurt, and longing right out of her body. “Please…” she whines, barely audible, her rhythm messy and uneven. “Please, baby, lemme—lemme have this, just need it, need you. Swear I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind—”

Boobs? Sure, she’ll tease. She’ll squeeze, nudge, and make ridiculous comments. “Whatcha hidin’ under there, huh?” she’ll snicker as her hands snake under your shirt, not caring if it earns her a swat to the arm or an eye-roll.

Ass? Appreciated. She’ll throw a few playful smacks your way, maybe get caught staring once or twice when you walk ahead of her or if she’s following you up a staircase, but it’s a casual kind of want—background noise to her real obsession.

Thighs, though? Thighs are personal. They make her greedy. They make her ache in a way that jokes can’t cover up. That’s where her hands stop playing and start holding. “Gimme a minute,” she’ll mutter, half-draped across your lap, forehead pressed against your thigh like it’s the only solid thing left in her spinning little universe. “Or… y’know. The rest of the night.”

It’s the altar she’s absolutely willing to pray at. It’s the place she lays her head on, the place she rocks her body against, the place she clings to.

🩵 fanart bonus by @gloomycattoo !!

— dividers by @omi-resources !!

‘don’t mention thigh riding/humping’ challenge, go! (spoiler: i lost. i’m clearly very normal about it 👍)

[nightingale-prompts]

Saving Batboy

First | Previous | Next

It was as though he was being led through the city. Dick seemed to know exactly where he should go next as he drove.

Dick turned off his location as he closed in on Joker's location. If anyone had doubts about what would happen tonight they knew now. The clown dies tonight.

Batman never did it because he knew there would be no coming back once he crossed that line but he was not Batman.

Tim knew the moment Nightwing's symbol disappeared that he had found Joker's location. He knew he could track him still based on where he was before but he held off. The last time Dick crossed the line and killed the Joker, Tim was there to stop him. In the time since Tim had grown to regret it. Especially after Jason's return. He should be avenged after everything that happened.

Tim never put much thought into what happened when he was kidnapped just like Danny. Joker Jr was just a nightmare and everyone pretends it didn't happen. His past self doesn't exist to him and the gaps in his memory are better as they are.

If Dick was really going to finish this then Tim wasn't going to stop him. Bruce's code was his code alone. What of the Robins that suffer for it? What about his kids that he loves to the point of self-destruction if they die?

It was clear to Tim now. Batman isn't strong enough to kill Joker. If he can't handle it, someone else would.

Maybe Dick just cared more. Or maybe he had seen this happen too many times to sit by and let it happen again. The cost be damned.

Tim took a deep breath. He knew it was a bad move but he shut down the bat computer. No one could locate each other for the next 10 minutes. Enough time to give Dick the lead he really needs. All the comms are down and no information can be shared.

Tim looked up and saw Alfred putting down a cup of tea for him. Tim felt like a child caught doing something wrong under Alfred. But Alfred nodded wordlessly before turning to leave. He cast a forlorn glance at Jason's robin uniform before ascending the stairs.

****

"I was hoping Batman would come for the little bat. Oh sorry, I mean the boy." Joker mocked holding Danny by the back of the neck.

The teen's body was limp. His silver locks stained a rusty brown from dried blood. Blood covered his back and legs. If there had been any doubt if the wings were real there is none now.

"…" Nightwingwing said nothing. His fist clenched.

"You know I debated skinning him next. That fur of his would be a lovely shawl. It's so soft. But it looks like I won't have the time now." Joker provoked, running a hand through the boy's white neck fur.

"Get your hands off him." Nightwing demanded, his eyes locked on Danny for any signs of life.

"You know I am so curious what he was doing here. I was about to build a new trap here for fun when I stumbled upon this little guy here. Practically gift-wrapped. Did he run away from you? Just like you did from good ol'papa bat." Joker's smile widened sickeningly "This all feels so familiar, doesn't it little bird? Are you going to finish what you started?"

"I'm never letting you hurt my family again." No witty one-liners. No games. This bad joke ends today.

****

Batman had scoured the area. He memorize the last location Dick was before the system went down. He wasn't these kids' father for nothing he knew what they were doing.

When sound came back he had already made it to the abandoned factory. The comms rang back to life as the sounds of crying came through.

"Nononono…please no. Wake up. Please wake up." It was Dick's voice. "It's okay. I'm here now. So just wake up. We need to get home soon. Your favorite show will be on soon. WAKE UP! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Batman bolted to their location and found Dick hovering over Danny trying to resuscitate him.

His son looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I can't hear his heart. He's not breathing." He let out a shaky breath. As distressed tears ran down his cheeks.

Bruce knelt next to them. Danny didn't react to the pressure on his chest. The pain should have at least caused an involuntary jerk if he wasn't too far gone.

Bruce signaled Dick to move back as he checked Danny's pulse again. Nothing. And he wasn't breathing. Bruce looked at his son. Deep down Dick probably knew.

"I'm sorry. He's gone." Bruce said simply as he took off his cloak.

Danny looked so peaceful. Like he was sleeping soundly. Bruce hated that his own suspension had been the thing that had prevented him from having a relationship with his own grandson. He felt foolish to not realize that of course Danny and Batboy were the same. It was a brilliant disguise. But he'd never get to say this to the boy.

Bruce wrapped the boy in his cloak.

"Come on. We'll fix this." He told Dick, carrying Danny for him.

The journey back to the manor was silent until.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"Don't. Just Don't. He's my son. Its my fault." Dick rasped his voice scratchy from crying.

Bruce felt a bitter sting. That was exactly what he felt when he lost Jason and what happened with Tim. When Damian lost his life. These pains didn't go away.

When they arrived back in the Batcave Bruce laid Danny's body on the table. The others were notified about what happened and had already gathered.

Barbara looked like she had bawled her eyes out as she hugged Stephanie.

Damian had pressed himself close to Tim as the older brother told him that it was going to be okay.

The new hole in the wall was clearly Jason if his bloodied knuckles were any clues.

Cassandra paced the floor deep in thought. She was moments away from starting a new crusade.

Duke stared off into the distance. His anger boiling under the surface. All he could think about was the number of lives ruined by the Joker and even in death he took another.

Dick stood still as a statue. Thinking about if Danny could be brought back and even if he was his wings were gone. What if he was gone for good? Could he live like that?

Never had he understood Bruce more than in that moment.

Bruce braced himself for what would come next. He had a plan to bring Danny back at any cost.

But suddenly a sound broke through the tension.

A sneeze.

A fucking sneeze.

It came up from under the cloak.

Everyone snapped to look at the body hidden under the cloak. It shifted under the heavy black blanket groggily and yawned. Then Danny jumped up twisting to feel his back.

"What happened!!" He yelped.

[megalony]

A Little Party

This is a new fluffy Evan Buckley imagine, based on an anon request. I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Feedback is always much appreciated.

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@teenwolfbitches28

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: Bobby is slightly discouraged that not many people will be attending the party he and Athena are throwing. So Evan decides to bring his family to the party for some fun.

Enjoy.

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

The mug of coffee in Evan's hand gave off enough aroma to stop his eyes from closing and letting him fall asleep right here and now in the kitchen. He swirled it around a few times before downing half the cup in one go.

The simmering coffee burned the back of his throat but the heat and the taste did enough to liven Evan up somewhat. Usually caffeine was counter productive to his system, it calmed him down and helped him sleep rather than woke him up. But a strong coffee always got his mind working, and he needed something to keep him going.

Being off work for two and a half weeks was enough to set Evan off kilter when he came back. He had gotten used to being back into a routine at home but now he had to snap back to the work schedule, and it was killing him.

"No sleep last night?"

Evan turned to the left just as Eddie walked into the kitchen. He rested a hand on Evan's shoulder as he moved to stand next to him and make himself a drink.

"Think I've gotten used to feeding Lily during the night." Evan ran his free hand over his face as he leant his hips back against the counter and downed the next half of his coffee. His lips curled into a grimace at the heat but the taste countered out the hot temperature.

"You taking the night shift?" Eddie finished pouring himself a drink and turned so he was facing Evan.

"It's easier that way, (Y/n) struggles bending over, had to have a C-section this time. Makes things a bit harder." Evan smiled wistfully as he set his mug down in the sink.

He had started to get up during the night to feed and see to Lily because it was easier. He had no problems leaning and bending and creasing when he had to reach down for Lily and pick her up and move around with her. Evan didn't want (Y/n) to struggle when he knew that as soon as he came back to work, he was leaving her at home with four kids to look after, one of which was a newborn.

He didn't want (Y/n) struggling during the night as well, when he was home Evan wanted to be the one to sort the kids and make sure they were alright. He had been the one doing bath time with them because he wouldn't risk (Y/n) hurting herself or pulling her stitches with doubling and bending over the bath.

"Damn, is she okay?"

"Twins, a toddler and a baby. Trust me, my wife is super woman."

Part of Evan felt bad for coming back to work, he felt like he should have taken more time off. But they had talked it through. (Y/n) had had her stitches out now which meant that at least she wasn't at risk of pulling them or having them tear or get infected.

Evan had to go back to work at some point and (Y/n) thought it may as well be now before he got too used to being at home and never wanted to go back. And he had been given his paternity leave so he hadn't used up any annual leave yet. He could save that for when they went on holiday or if (Y/n) or the kids weren't well and he needed to take some time off.

He heard Eddie mutter "Yes she is," with a smile and a nod of agreement, before Evan turned and headed towards the table.

He aimed for table that overlooked the balcony in the annex of the station and looked towards where Bobby was chatting to Hen. They were both nursing drinks and smiling as if they were talking about old times. Evan needed to keep himself busy and alert to stay awake.

"So, when is it again?" Hen brought her cup to her lips and looked over the rim to smile at Bobby.

Her head turned when the sound of a chair scraping caught her attention and she watched Evan sit down opposite the pair of them. He looked tired, like he was struggling to keep his eyes open but his fingers were drumming away on the table like he had too much energy within him. A classic Buck sign and symptom.

"Next weekend, but not everyone's coming this time."

"Oh, how come?"

Evan tilted his head to one side as he tried to gather his thoughts and work out what they were talking about. After a moment or two, it dawned on him that they were discussing the party Bobby and Athena were having. They always did parties, whether it was a garden party, a barbeque or a drinks night. They liked to celebrate.

Most of the time it was for Christmas or Halloween or the annual summer parties the station had. They liked to have excuses for gatherings because in their line of work, they saw a lot of bad and awful things. And each of them had been through tough experiences in life. They all needed a day where they could relax and cool off and celebrate instead of wallow and drown.

"Well May is away at college, Harry is out with his dad and can't come down just for the weekend. I invited a few friends outside of work but they can't make it either. It's gonna be a small gathering."

The disappointment was clear in Bobby's voice and it made Evan wince and his smile fade. And he felt even worse when he looked over at Hen and saw the saddened smile on her face.

"I still have to check that Karen isn't working, but if she isn't then we might be able to make it."

That didn't sound very reassuring, but the tender smile on Bobby's face said it all. He was preparing for her not to be able to turn up. It seemed quite a few people wouldn't be able to go and had let him down gently.

Evan knew what that was like. Throughout his life he had been led by disappointment. His parents not making the effort, only Maddie caring when it was his birthday or when he achieved something at school. God knows Evan never got a party on his birthday and they rarely had times where their family would meet up and spend time together.

It wasn't until he married (Y/n) that Evan finally felt like he had cause for celebration and he finally got to join in with parties and family celebrations. And coming to this station included him in a wider family and opened him up to gatherings and reasons to smile.

He watched Bobby nod and take a sip of his drink. "I get it. Chim and Maddie are going away for the week next week anyway, are you going with them?" Bobby turned his attention to Evan, suddenly aware that he too might be going if it was a family trip.

The rapid shake of his head told otherwise. "No, no, they're uh, they're going to visit my parents. I didn't want to."

It was a bit more than that and they could see it, but neither of them pushed the subject. They knew it was a sore spot for Evan.

Maddie and Chimney were taking Jee out of town for the week next week and they were going to visit their parents along the way. Evan had no desire to see his parents, he didn't want to see them unless it was strictly necessary and he had assurance that they would be civil and fair.

They had made it abundantly clear that they cared more about Maddie than about Evan. They had been to Evan's wedding when he married (Y/n) but they didn't stay for the reception. They stayed in town for three whole days when Maddie got married.

They called over FaceTime when (Y/n) gave birth to the twins, but they had come to visit as soon as Maddie gave birth to Jee.

They had been in touch and kept checking in on Maddie after her breakdown and when she finally came back home and adjusted to life with Chimney and Jee. But Evan's parents hadn't made the effort to come down and check on him and (Y/n) or see them when (Y/n) gave birth to Cole almost three years ago.

It was clear that they favoured Jee more than their other four grandchildren and Evan wouldn't have his kids figuring that one out and becoming subjected to favouritism like that. They had enough loving and caring family around them here in LA, Evan saw no point trying to build bridges with his parents.

"I don't know if it's worth it this year, we're used to having a packed house but this time only half the people will be there." The slight edge of disappointment in Bobby's voice stirred something in Evan's stomach.

He rested his forearms down on the table and leaned over towards Bobby to gain his attention and to try and perk him up.

"Hey, I- I could make it." He did his best to smile and look encouraging as he nodded vigorously.

"Really?"

There was that spark back in Bobby's eyes. He assumed Evan would be going with Maddie and Chimney but even if he wasn't, he had thought that Evan might be too preoccupied with family to come to a gathering. After all, he had just had a baby and had three other kids to take care of. Evan's hands were full at the moment.

But the eagerness in Evan's eyes was heart warming and the way he smiled was encouraging and almost desperate.

If Bobby wanted numbers and needed a few more close friends next weekend then Evan would be more than happy to oblige. As long as his family could come along too and if it was alright with (Y/n), then he would bring his family down.

The team all knew (Y/n) and the kids, they were like one big family. And Bobby knew Evan's twins were a bit chaotic, they took after him in the sense that they were clumsy and hyper and acted before they thought. As long as Bobby and Athena didn't mind Evan's troop coming along and causing a bit of mild chaos, then it would be alright.

"Yeah, I mean I'd have to check with the missus, but if the kids can come along then we could go."

As long as it was alright for his family to come, and if (Y/n) felt up to it, then they would come down to Bobby's little party. They would be honoured to go.

***

"Please be careful, no running about." There was a loving smile to go along with Evan's rather pleading expression as he looked down to the twins stood on either side of him, one holding each hand.

He watched them both nod, but the cheeky grins on their faces gave Evan an inkling that he was going to have to follow them both around to make sure that they didn't do anything untoward.

They weren't bad kids, they weren't naughty or teasing and they did relatively everything that they were told. But they were clumsy. They took after Evan in the fact that they moved and acted before they thought, they were agile but unsteady and they had a tendency to reach out for things and knock things over and cause some mayhem in their wake.

This was Bobby and Athena's house, somewhere the twins had been before, but not for a while. Evan didn't want them to run around and bump into anyone or knock anyone over or break anything in here.

Evan turned his head to look to his left and his smile softened when he glanced over at (Y/n).

She hadn't noticed him staring yet, her attention was on their two younger kids. Evan loved the smile on her face and that tender look that swirled in her eyes. She looked like the embodiment of summer with a pale cream dress that had a low V neckline and frills over the shoulders.

The carrier was held in both her hands, holding their newborn level with her thighs and on (Y/n)'s left was Cole. The two year old had his hands fisted in the bottom of (Y/n)'s dress like he wanted to ensure that he wouldn't become lost or left behind.

Evan hitched (Y/n)'s bag a bit higher on his shoulder just as the front door swung open and a wave of music swirled around them. The bag had most of Cole and Lily's things in as well as a few of (Y/n)'s things as well, it was easier to carry around a big on the shoulder bag rather than a small bag and another one for the kid's things.

"You made it, come on in." The smile on Athena's face was encouraging and she reeled Evan in for a quick hug before she beckoned them inside.

A sigh rumbled past Evan's lips when the twins let go of his hands and trotted down the steps into the living room. Part of him wished he'd brought their backpacks which had velcro straps attached, almost like a leash. It was easier when going out with the kids so they didn't try and run too far ahead or become lost. But a party wasn't exactly the right place to have them on straps like that.

His eyes followed the twins until he realised that they were both aiming for Bobby.

Ben ran with his arms stretched out and he giggled Bobby's name until the Captain reached down to scoop him up. And Birdie followed suit, attaching herself to Bobby's leg. The twins had become attached to Bobby to the point he was almost like a grandad to them.

(Y/n) twisted her head to look down at Cole who was still holding onto her dress, but at least he wasn't tugging or pulling it down like he usually did. Whenever they went out anywhere, Cole preferred to be in his pushchair, it made him feel safe. But at parties he would wander around behind one of his parents, usually behind (Y/n) following her like a little duckling.

She followed Evan down the steps with Cole trotting at her side and when they stopped at the bottom of the stairs near the living room, (Y/n) leant her cheek against Evan's shoulder as she looked around.

The music was coming from the garden. The patio doors were wide open and people were filtering in and out. Evan had been right, there weren't as many people here as would usually be normal for one of Bobby and Athena's parties. It seemed like a good job they had decided to turn up.

"Is this the little lady?" Athena's smile almost turned giddy as she pointed towards the carrier in (Y/n)'s hands that was facing her rather than the rest of the room.

"She's just waking up if you want a hold." (Y/n) liked how eager Athena was and how her fingers were practically twitching as she nodded and pointed towards the sofa.

With a kiss to Evan's shoulder, (Y/n) pulled away from him and moved towards the sofa. When Athena sat down, (Y/n) carefully set the carrier down on the sofa next to her, glad to set the weight down.

After her C-section, (Y/n) hadn't been allowed to lift or carry anything heavier than Lily. Bending over had creased her stomach and hurt her stitches, so Lily couldn't be low down or (Y/n) couldn't lift her up properly. She had to crouch if she wanted to pick something up off the floor or get something from a low cupboard. She couldn't strain or reach up high and even holding Lily was a bit of a strain.

She was glad her stitches has finally come out, but her stomach was still sore and healing and meant it was tender.

(Y/n) carefully unclipped Lily from the carrier and lifted her up, smiling down at her youngest who was just starting to open her eyes and let out a small yawn. She pressed a kiss to the newborn's temple before she turned and carefully eased her down into Athena's waiting arms.

"Oh, she's beautiful, and so small." Athena ran her finger along the side of Lily's cheek, admiring how small and delicate she looked with her arms resting on her chest and her knees slightly curled up like she thought she was back in the womb.

Evan watched (Y/n) shift the empty carrier down to the floor before she took its place and sat next to Athena. He knew she hid a wince when she sat down and he saw how she shifted from left to right in a silent attempt to become comfortable and ease the tension in her stomach.

And he watched Cole move to stand beside (Y/n)'s legs, resting his arms on her knees as he swayed back and forth, leaning into her side.

"Wanna come and get a drink with me?" Stepping forward, Evan held his hand out towards Cole but his smile faded to a frown when the toddler looked at him before leaning more into (Y/n).

With pursed lips, Evan stepped forward and reached down to scoop his boy up. He could cling to Evan for a change rather than being (Y/n)'s shadow, it would mean (Y/n) could sit and relax and chat to Athena or anyone else without Cole stealing her attention. Besides, he had been attached to (Y/n) all morning, it was Evan's turn to get some love and attention from their toddler.

"Come with daddy," He murmured against Cole's head, relieved when the two year old didn't grumble.

Instead, Cole seemed to debate it for a second before he muttered "Okay daddy," and looped his arms around Evan's neck so he could rest his cheek on his shoulder.

Evan ran his hand up and down Cole's back as he weaved around the coffee table and headed into the kitchen, attaching his lips to the top of his boy's head. He bounced Cole on his hip, smiling into his hair as he took one of the plastic cups already pre-filled with juice and held it out towards Cole so he could grab a fizzy drink for himself.

"Shall we go outside?"

Cole nodded against his shoulder and snuggled down into Evan's chest which caused Evan to grin.

He headed out the patio doors and into the garden while he looked around to try and check whereabouts the twins were and what they were up to.

He set his drink down on one of the tables outside in the garden and veered towards Eddie who was stood to one side, a glass of beer in hand and a smile on his face. He was watching Chris who was having a little dance to the music along with Denny. Both Karen and Hen had managed to make it after all which meant most of the team were here, besides Chimney and Maddie who were away with Jee at the moment.

"Hey,"

"Hey, you and the troop made it. Did you bring the little one?" Eddie nudged his elbow into Evan's side and turned to look behind him through the window in search of (Y/n). He had already spotted the twins roaming around so he figured (Y/n) and the newest addition would be here somewhere.

Everyone knew to keep an eye out when the twins were around, they were well behaved but they were a handful at the best of times.

"I think Athena's stolen her for the time being."

"I'll find her at some point."

Evan already knew that when they decided to bring Lily here, that she would be stolen by everyone. She was one month old, at that tiny stage where everyone thought she was an angel and they would want to hold her and settle her and pass her around. It was clear that Evan wouldn't be spending much time with his kids until they went home as everyone would try and take Lily and the other three would roam around like bees buzzing through the house.

With a kiss to Cole's temple, Evan leant forward and gently set the toddler down so he was stood between his legs, keeping him close to keep an eye on him.

But when Evan lifted his head and took another look around, his shoulders tensed and he shook his head.

"Birdie get down." His voice was sharp and his hands moved to his hips when he looked at the seven year old. She had clambered onto one of the garden chairs and was kneeling on the arm rest, trying her best to reach out for the bird feeder that was hanging on the fence.

The little girl tried to turn her head to look for her dad as she had one arm stretched out towards the feeder and her other hand clinging to the chair she was knelt on. But leaning on the edge of the chair was causing it to wobble and Evan could just imagine her toppling over onto the concrete patio and causing herself an injury.

"Can you-"

"I've got him." Eddie reached down to rest a hand on Cole's shoulder before Evan even finished his sentence.

With Eddie now stood beside Cole to watch him, Evan jogged ahead towards his daughter who was now wobbling like a plate of jelly on the edge of the chair. He reached out and clamped his hands down on her waist, scooping her up just before she fell off the chair.

A giggle escaped her lips when Evan lifted her high into the air before he cuddled her against his chest with one arm bound around her waist pinning her back to his chest. He kissed her cheek before he tilted his head and rose a brow as he looked at her with that pointed look which made Birdie hang her head.

"You don't go climbing on furniture baby, you'll hurt yourself."

A quiet "Sorry," mumbled past her lips but she knew she wasn't in trouble when Evan kissed her temple. He was more worried about her causing an injury than knocking things over, but at the same time this wasn't their house and he would hate for the kids to break anything or cause accidents.

"Ben, no running." Just as Evan's voice called out towards the other twin, Bobby reached out and gently scooped Ben up under his arms.

He turned the seven year old around, breaking him from his run so he was now facing Hen who Bobby had been talking to. He could stick with them and play with Denny who was fast approaching. The team knew having four kids could be a handful and while they were here, they would all try and keep an eye on the kids to make it a bit easier for (Y/n) and Evan.

"Am I allowed to have a hold?"

(Y/n) broke out of her thoughts and tilted her head quickly to look up at Karen who was now stood beside her. She gently settled one hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder and pointed down to the carrier beside (Y/n)'s feet where Lily was mewling and wriggling around, clearly not tired out yet.

She smiled and nodded, lifting her head off her hand as she straightened up against the chair.

After Athena had cuddled and held Lily for a while, (Y/n) had ventured into the kitchen to get a drink. She had been chatting to one of Athena's old friends for a while, and every now and then she turned to look outside to check on the kids. But Evan seemed to be chasing after them all and she knew Bobby was keeping an eye on Ben.

It meant that (Y/n) didn't have to get up and try and follow all her kids around and keep an eye on all of them at the same time. She could just focus on Lily for the time being.

She was internally glad when Karen crouched down and scooped Lily up from the carrier. It meant that (Y/n) didn't have to crease forward or kneel down from the chair to pick her up and hand her over.

Such a broad smile filtered across Karen's face as she cooed and carefully sat down next to (Y/n) at the table. She turned so they were facing one another with their knees bumping together, and she carefully adjusted Lily so the newborn was settled in the crook of her arm.

Her finger stroked along Lily's cheek and tapped against her parted lips and she unknowingly began to sway from left to right very subtly.

"How are you?" Karen lifted her head and looked across at (Y/n) with a smile that made (Y/n) feel a gust of adrenaline.

It had been a while since she had seen any of the team or their families, she and Evan had been busy with the kids and then having Lily. Time seemed to have passed them by in a whirlwind and (Y/n) was still trying to get her head around her sense of time. She couldn't even pinpoint when the last time was that she and Evan had met up with Hen and Karen either for a drink or a catch up or just at a gathering like this.

With a tender expression, (Y/n) ran her fingers through her hair and smiled across at Karen.

"Almost recovered now, I think." She knew if Evan were listening he would have huffed and said that it was a lie. (Y/n) was on the road to recovery, but she wasn't quite there yet. She didn't realise how much toll a C-section would take on her.

Maybe if it had happened when she had the twins, or Cole, it might have been easier. But having one now when she had three other children to care for made things that much harder. (Y/n) and Evan had been told to expect a C-section with the twins as complications could arise and it was usually the safest course of action. But (Y/n) made it to thirty-seven weeks with the twins and went into labour naturally, she had been lucky. And they had no complications with Cole either.

Having an operation this time had just messed things up because for the first week, (Y/n) could barely stand up straight. Evan had to give her anti-coagulants to prevent blood clots for a week after they came home from the hospital. (Y/n) was barely starting to feel like herself again and she knew it would be a little longer yet before she was back to herself and up to full duties again.

"Buck said you had to have a C-section this time, that must have been rough." Karen looked between the baby in her arms and (Y/n) who glanced down and smiled softly.

"Yeah… we didn't exactly get a choice. Lily got the cord around her neck and got distressed, so I didn't even go into labour this time."

(Y/n) propped her elbow up on the table and leaned her head on her hand as she sighed at the memory. She knew something hadn't been right, the cramping pains she got and the constant moving and wriggling of the baby had been bad indicators and the midwife booked an appointment that same day.

But when they went to the appointment, all of a sudden they were told that the cord was around the baby's neck and the heartbeat was starting to decrease.

They didn't get a choice. (Y/n) couldn't be induced into labour because labour took time and the baby could have suffocated and strangled in that time, and the distress showed that there was no time to wait around.

With a frantic phone call to Maddie, she had picked the kids up from school and daycare and (Y/n) and Evan went straight through to theatre and had Lily in their arms within two hours. It had been a relief that (Y/n) had been thirty-six weeks along because it meant that Lily had been a bit on the small side, but otherwise healthy and okay to be born that early and she wasn't classed as premature.

"Hen said it was sudden, the team getting a phone call that you'd had the baby, not even a word about labour." Karen cooed down at the baby in her arms before she looked back up again.

She remembered Hen coming home last month and suddenly announcing that Evan had another little girl. They hadn't found out the gender so all the team had been guessing and betting what it would be. Everyone had been surprised.

Bobby got a phone call one hour before Evan was supposed to be on shift where Evan apologised profusely but said his paternity leave was going to have to start because (Y/n) had just had the baby. They had all been shocked and Bobby hurried to fish a replacement from another station for two weeks, but everyone had sent a few items down to Evan and wished (Y/n) a speedy recovery.

Leaning across, (Y/n) gently rested her hand on Lily's chest and brushed her thumb across her little summer dress. "You should have seen her when Evan held her, she didn't span the length of his arm. All the clothes you guys sent are only just starting to fit her- thank you, by the way."

"Oh, but she's still so tiny."

Lily was their smallest baby. Even though the twins had been born at thirty-seven weeks, they had still been a lot bigger than what Lily was. She didn't fit the span from Evan's elbow to his wrist, she looked like a little paper doll when Evan first held her. And when he flexed his muscles, she could barely be seen in his arms.

(Y/n) and Evan had been shocked and overwhelmed by how kind the team and their families had been. Maddie and Chimney had come round when they got discharged and handed over a bundle of clothes, nappies and a few blankets for Lily. But most of the clothing they had gotten had been a bit too big for her, she was still growing into everything.

Lifting her head from her hand, (Y/n) leaned forward a little and held her arms out when she saw her little boy aiming her way.

Cole had a big grin on his lips and what (Y/n) presumed was chocolate smushed around his face. He trotted over and patted her thighs until (Y/n) helped him clamber up onto her lap. All three kids knew if they wanted to cuddle or sit with (Y/n) they had to be careful of her lower stomach so they didn't hurt her scar.

Once he was on her lap he plonked down on her knees and snuggled his head into (Y/n)'s chest. He mumbled "Hi mummy," as he reached down for her arm and wrapped it around his abdomen, showing he wanted to be safely tucked into her embrace.

"Hi baby, what have you been up to?"

"Uncle Eddie had choccie." Cole began to pat his hands down on the table top and he grinned when he felt (Y/n) leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

She bounced him up and down on her knees while she looked ahead when more footsteps approached. She watched Birdie begin to flutter around the living room, clearly looking for someone to talk to or a way to entertain herself. And (Y/n) hoped that Ben was still being watched by Bobby and that he wasn't left to his own devices.

But it was Evan who caught (Y/n)'s attention and made her smile broaden. He had her Winnie The Pooh bag hooked on his shoulder and a bottle from the bag in his hand, giving off dad vibes as he looked around, clearly trying to find Lily. He could see the carrier by (Y/n)'s feet was empty and she had Cole in her arms, not their newborn.

"Alright, who's got my baby?" The playful edge to his voice made (Y/n) smirk and Karen laughed as she looked over her shoulder and gave him a toothy grin to signal that she was responsible. She had stolen his youngest.

"She's having a cuddle." Karen lifted her arms up so she could nuzzle her cheek against the top of Lily's head and give her a quick kiss. She could see that Evan was going to steal his daughter back, he seemed adamant about that but at least she had gotten a nice cuddle while Lily was settled and not fussy.

"She needs a bottle, besides it's my turn for a cuddle. You can steal her back afterwards."

Evan was glad to lean down and scoop his baby up. He'd barely mad much time with her this morning as he'd been dealing with the twins and since they got here everyone else had been fussing around her. It was his turn now.

Once she was in the crook of his arm, Evan peppered a few kisses to her temple and sauntered into the kitchen.

(Y/n) watched him with a growing sense of glee as he expertly unscrewed the bottle prefilled with formula and managed to pour the water in while Lily was still in his arm. After all, this was their fourth baby, he knew what he was doing by now.

She could hear him humming, despite the music flooding the house from the garden and she watched Evan's hips move from side to side as he shook the bottle.

When Lily was settled drinking her bottle, Evan pushed off the counter and moved towards the table again.

He nudged a chair leg with his heel and kicked the chair out so he could sit down behind (Y/n). Once he was sat down with Lily still in his arms taking her bottle, Evan inched closer until he was behind (Y/n) and close enough to perch his chin on her shoulder.

(Y/n) smiled as she felt a tender kiss being pressed to her exposed neck and it caused shivers to run up and down her spine. Especially when she felt Evan's arms against her lower back since she was sitting sideways on her chair. She could just about feel Lily in his arms and hear the smacking of her lips as she sucked on her bottle.

She felt Evan's lips travel up the side of her neck until his lips were hovering over her ear and he murmured "You feeling okay?" in her ear.

"Yeah… trouble's approaching." (Y/n) leaned her head back until she was resting on Evan's shoulder, making sure not to lean back too much as she didn't want to disturb Lily who seemed very settled considering they were in a new, loud environment.

She felt Evan humming into her neck causing vibrations and shivers to run beneath her skin, but he lifted his head just a little. His lips were on her neck again but his eyes were looking ahead, seeing the twins aiming for the kitchen with Eddie not far behind them.

Birdie had her hand latched in Eddie's and she seemed to be dragging him along behind her and (Y/n) guessed she was going to ask him to get a drink for her. She liked attaching herself to people and Eddie seemed to be the person she had latched onto at the moment.

And Ben was just ahead of her, speeding towards his parents with a wide smile and his arms stretched out in front of him.

Evan watched his eldest boy heading towards them and he straightened up a little in his chair, but when Ben wobbled and knocked into a side table, Evan reacted before he could really think.

His left arm flung out to the side which accidentally tore the bottle from Lily's lips and had it clenched in his hand. He thrust his hand out and managed to press the side of his hand against the vase in front of the window when Ben bashed into the table and wobbled the vase.

A shaky breath passed Evan's lips as he nudged his hand and pushed the vase back onto the table before it toppled over, making sure it was steady before he let go. He looked between the vase and Ben who had skidded to a stop with his hands now tangled together in front of him and a sheepish, worried look on his face.

He had been so set on aiming for Evan that he wobbled and knocked into the table on his way.

"I thought I told you no running?" Evan's words were breathless but his tone was calm along with a tepid smile.

He looked down to Lily who was wriggling and now whimpering, clearly disgruntled and confused why she hadn't been able to finish her bottle yet. Evan readjusted her in his arm as he sat up straight and leaned back in his chair so he wasn't hanging over the side towards the vase.

"Sorry daddy." Ben slowly moved over and folded his arms on Evan's thigh as he stood at his side and cosied up to him in his own little way of apology. Both the twins were clumsy, they were used to knocking things over and running into things and getting bumps and bruises every other day.

"Hm, well be careful, this isn't our house you know." Breaking things wasn't allowed when this wasn't their home and ornaments and vases could be sentimental or valuable to Bobby and Athena.

The seven year old nodded and proceeded to lean his cheek on Evan's arm while he stretched one hand out and ran his hand up and down Lily's front. Trying to calm her down now that she was whimpering and crying, but she soon ceased when Evan pressed the bottle back to her lips.

Mumbling a soft "Here baby," as he gave her the bottle back so she could finish the last half.

Evan lifted his head and watched (Y/n) as she twisted around in front of him so she could look over at him. She rose a brow with a smirk and leant over to kiss his cheek, while Karen's chuckle filled the air.

"Nice catch."

[rosesareredrosa]

Exactly What I Needed

Theo Nott x fem reader

Summary: based on this ask <33

w/c: 945

a/n: Why is medical school so hard?? literally, i am rotting in bed with assignments everywhere send requests

You’d always known Theo wasn’t the type to openly crave affection. He had his moments—fleeting as they were—where he’d pull you close, bury his face in the crook of your neck, and let out a sigh that told you he needed you. But for the most part, his love was quieter, tucked into stolen glances or the brush of his fingers against yours in passing.

You didn’t mind. You loved him enough to make up for the gaps he left behind. That’s why you didn’t think much of it when you reached out to him one evening, wrapping your arms around him from behind as he sat at his desk, papers and textbooks scattered around. You nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the side of his neck. "How’s it going?" you asked gently.

His body stiffened in your embrace, and without warning, he pulled away. "Can you not?" His tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

You blinked, taking a step back, confused. "What?"

Theo sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I just… I need space, okay? You’re being… clingy."

That word felt like a slap to the face. Clingy. The air between you shifted immediately, and you pulled your arms close to your chest as if trying to physically protect yourself from the impact of his words.

"I didn’t realize I was bothering you," you said quietly, feeling a tight knot form in your stomach.

"Well, you are," Theo snapped, his irritation flaring. "I’m already stressed enough without you hanging off me every second."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. "Okay."

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out of the room, feeling the sting of tears prick at the back of your eyes. You couldn’t believe how cold he’d been. And worse, how easily he had brushed you off as if your affection was some sort of burden.

For the next few days, you gave Theo exactly what he asked for—space. You stopped greeting him with hugs, stopped reaching out for his hand, stopped slipping into his side on the couch when you watched TV together. The house became a strange, quiet place, filled with a tension neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Theo was so focused on his work that he didn’t seem to notice at first, but then something shifted.

At first, it was subtle. He started glancing over at you during meals, as if expecting you to say something, to touch him. But you didn’t. You kept your distance, heart aching every time he looked at you with those confused eyes. Then came the moments where you’d walk past him in the hallway, and his fingers would twitch, as if he wanted to reach out but couldn’t figure out how.

It wasn’t until a few nights later, when you climbed into bed without saying a word to him, that Theo realized something was really wrong. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, unable to sleep as the weight of his own actions pressed down on him.

He turned to you, his voice soft, hesitant. "Y/N?"

You hummed in acknowledgment, still facing away from him.

There was a long pause, and then he sighed. "Have I… have I done something to upset you?"

You swallowed hard, the rawness of your emotions rising in your throat. "You told me I was being clingy. I’m just giving you the space you asked for."

Theo flinched at the reminder of his harsh words, guilt flooding his chest. He had been so wrapped up in his own stress, so overwhelmed by the pressure he was under, that he hadn’t realized how cruel he’d been. And now, here you were, doing exactly what he’d asked, and it was killing him.

"I didn’t mean it," Theo said quietly, his voice strained. "I was stressed, and I took it out on you. But that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have said that."

You stayed silent for a moment, your heart pounding as his words sank in. Part of you wanted to forgive him, to turn around and let him hold you like he always did when he realized he’d messed up. But the hurt still lingered, and you weren’t sure you could just brush it off like it hadn’t happened.

"You can’t just say things like that, Theo," you whispered, your voice trembling. "It hurts."

He shifted closer to you, hesitantly placing a hand on your arm. "I know. I’m sorry." His thumb rubbed small, apologetic circles against your skin, and you could hear the regret in his voice, thick and heavy. "I don’t want space from you. I need you. I always need you."

Your breath hitched, and you finally turned to face him. His eyes were soft, filled with a kind of vulnerability that Theo rarely showed. It tugged at your heartstrings, and despite everything, you could see how much he wanted to make it right.

"I’m not just something you can push away when things get tough," you said softly, but firmly. "I’m here because I love you. But I can’t keep putting myself out there if you’re just going to shut me down."

Theo’s face crumpled slightly, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "I know," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I promise I’ll do better. I don’t want to push you away."

You stayed there for a moment, the two of you breathing in sync, the tension between you slowly easing as the apology hung in the air. His arms wrapped around you then, gently this time, like he was afraid you might slip away if he held you too tight.

After a few moments, you let yourself melt into his embrace, allowing him to pull you back into the warmth you’d missed. "I missed you," Theo murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I’m sorry I made you feel like you were too much when you were exactly what I needed."

You exhaled softly, your head resting against his chest as you felt his heartbeat against your cheek. "Just… don’t do it again."

"I won’t," he promised, his voice resolute. "I swear."

And for the first time in days, the distance between you began to fade, replaced by the quiet comfort of knowing that you were still the most important thing to him, even when he didn’t always know how to show it.

[endofthelinegang]

… C-can I request heavy make out session with John Walker (established relationship), please and thank you 🥹👉👈

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ john walker x fem! reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ something is in the wind tonight, so a little steam, a little much

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ oh fuck me i thought i would be able to make this short, but apparently the same way this has been the bird blog this will now be the robert and john blog (1.6k words)

You weren’t trying to make anything happen. Really for once you weren’t you were just curled up on the couch in little shorts and long sleeves, sleeves that were his. Of course he had picked the movie, some off brand Mission-Impossible shit that was insufferable at times when he would try and tell you about anything you crinkle your eyebrows at. That’s the part that always gets you later—how normal it was at first. Movie on. Hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. His thigh warm hand on your calf, the TV flickering across his face in sharp bursts of light and shadow. But my god you did not wanna sit here anymore, not like this anyway. In between moments of real action you kept looking at his hand and then looking back up at him.

He wasn’t even looking at the screen anymore. He didn’t need to and not just because he had seen it so many times but because you were right there and you were paying attention to something he cared about. And you were wearing his clothes and holy shit was that something. 

You felt it first—the shift in the air, the pull of his eyes on you. And then, quietly, his voice:

“You doin’ that thing again,” he murmurs, a lazy drawl like smoke and heat. “That thing where you look at me like you want something, but you won’t say it.” 

You blink at him, lips parting—about to deny it, deflect, maybe tease him back. But nothing came out, not even a little puff of air, just silence. The smell of the aftershave he swore up and down he didn’t use was the only thing you could smell as you tucked your head against the hood just a little bit not to face him.

But then he tilts his head, smirks slowly and crooked, and adds, “It’s alright. I’ll say it for you.”

And just like that, it’s over.

He leans in. One hand slides around the back of your neck, palm broad and warm and certain—like he’s not asking, he’s claiming. His mouth brushes yours once, a breath away from soft, but then he closes the distance and kisses you like he’s already been thinking about it for days. It's practiced and hungry—too precise to be sloppy, too messy to be innocent. His fingers curl a little tighter at your neck as he deepens it, and his other hand finds your waist, pulling you in like he’s got something to prove.

You make a soft noise—half sigh, half gasp—and he chuckles against your lips, low and satisfied. 

“There it is,” he mutters. “Knew I could get you to melt for me.”

You want to say something smart back—really, you do—but his tongue brushes yours and your brain short-circuits. All you can do is cling to the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric like you might fall apart if you let go. 

He keeps going—pressing kisses into the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your throat. Not gentle. Not rough. Just intentional. Every inch of you, touched like it matters. Really it was shocking, he was not as selfish as he seemed to others, but this giving? Rare. He was loving you just enough for you to know that is what was going on. Anyone else would just think he is trying to get into your pants. But if you ask John Walker he would say he was doing both. 

“You ever think about how easy it’d be,” he murmurs into your skin, “to just keep you here? Right in my lap, right where you belong.”

You shiver. You don’t even try to hide it. If you did it would only be worse on you because he would stop. Not only would he stop but he would stop and make you talk to him and think about. Walker would tease and pick at you until you were either so mad you could kill him or so down bad that you would have nothing else to say. 

“John…”

He pulls back just enough to look at you. Really look at you. You had your boyfriend hair going, red cheeks, heaving chest that could barely be seen underneath the thick fabric making this an even hotter situation, and slightly parted lips taking in little quick breaths that felt like breathing through a straw. 

His eyes hooded, jaw tight, chest rising like he’s fighting to keep his pulse under control. His cheeks were also red but his pupils were fucking huge. 

“You don’t even know,” he mutters. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You reach for him again, and he lets you. He kisses you this time slower, but deeper—like the sharp edge’s gone blunt, replaced by something molten, heavy with promise. His thumb strokes along your cheekbone like he’s grounding you both, even though his body’s practically vibrating with restraint. His hand slides to your thigh. Squeezes. Possessive. Familiar. And when you grind down against him—just a little—he exhales through his nose like he’s trying not to snap.

“I should stop,” he says. But he doesn’t move. It’s very simple as to why. Should n't mean you have to and nothing was going to make him stop now. 

You lean in close, tucking lose hair behind your ear, lips brushing the shell of his ear. Your dominant hand now placed on his face.

“But you won’t.”

He grabs your jaw—gently, but firm enough that your breath catches—and pulls your mouth back to his. Your both a fucking mess of deep shallow breaths, the bombs going off on the TV making the living room shake did not matter at all. His hands could not hold still they were tugging on the hoodie, then back down your legs, this back up around your neck, to your jaw. And that’s where you stay: pressed to him, half in his lap, lost in the quiet violence of being wanted this deeply. Of being kissed like you’re something holy and dangerous all at once.

Because John Walker doesn’t just kiss to feel. He kisses to remember.To mark.To keep.

And you? You’ve never wanted anything more than to be his to keep.

And he knows it.

It’s in the way your fingers tangle in his hair now, gentle at first, then tightening when he tilts your head just so and sinks into the kiss like he’s starving for it. It’s not frantic, not anymore. He’s savoring now. Sinking into it. Mapping your mouth with slow, possessive certainty like he’s memorizing it—not because he’s afraid to forget, but because he doesn’t want to risk missing a single part.

You whisper his name again between kisses—softer this time. Less like a warning, more like a promise. Like yes, I’m here. Yes, this is happening. Yes, this is yours. That fucking kills him, right there, shot dead. His name, your mouth, being spoken like that. If he was standing he would’ve fallen on his knees right then

John pulls back just barely, forehead to yours. His eyes are still closed. Like it hurts to stop, even for a second. He plants you completely over his lap now shifting you to be sat perfectly over top of him. Everything in him wanted to plant at least one hand on your ass but he couldn’t just do that, no, he had to say something first.

And then, voice hoarse, he breathes, “If you don’t want this…”

You cut him off without words—just a soft noise, an insistent pull on his shirt, the brush of your nose against his. You don’t say anything. You don’t have to.  You already said it with your body. With your kiss. With the way your knees tucked in tighter to the side of his thighs and your face softened and your pulse stayed loud enough for both of you.

“I want you,” you finally whisper. And it’s not sexy. It’s not coy or teasing. It’s raw. Honest. Like you’ve been sitting on it for too long and now it’s spilling out, trembling at the edges. His breath stutters like you hit something inside him he didn’t expect you to touch. He doesn’t smile—doesn’t smirk. He just looks at you.

That look.

The one that says, You could ask me for anything and I’d give it to you without thinking.

Not because he’s weak. Not because he’s easy. But because it’s you.And in his world—broken and blood-soaked and lined in gray—you’re the only thing that feels like solid ground.

“You should sit in my lap more,” he says gruffly, hands now flat against your hips. “I think better like this.”

You laugh, the kind of soft half-laugh that only comes out when you’re too gone to hide how gone you are.

“I think you just like me close.”

“I do,” he admits. No shame. Just truth. Which shocks you down the sole of your foot because he never said shit like that. Never. 

Then he kisses you again, and this time it’s slow and deep and reverent, and there’s something soft in it. Something safe.Like the calm before the storm, or maybe the eye of it.

Because make no mistake—John Walker is a storm. The kind that doesn’t ask permission before it breaks your world open.

But for you?

He quiets.

He calms.

He stays.

And as you curl up tighter into him chests touching hands roaming further—your lips bruised, your breath warm against his throat, his arms circling around you like the only home he’s ever trusted—you feel it:

That promise.

That gravity.

That quiet, terrifying, beautiful truth.

You’re not just something he wants.

You’re something he’s already chosen. Something he’ll protect. Something he’ll keep.

Even if the world burns around you.