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xxacademy · 4 days

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Throne of His Own

This fic is inspired & adapted from chapter 42 of A Court Of Mist And Fury, by Sarah J. Maas. Plot is original, but I took heavy influence from the events of that scene. <3

Leon Kennedy x Agent!Reader (she/her)

18+ MDNI !!

Summary: Being sent to a rural French village to go undercover with a band of vampires was strangely typical for your line of work— But, pretending to be lovers with another agent was anything but typical. Adapting yourself from a trained agent to a submissive lover unfolds in an unexpected series of events.

Word count: 10.2k

Content warnings: smut, AFAB anatomy, exhibitionism, penetrative sex, pet names, slightly mean possessive Leon (only when he has to be), alcohol consumption, typical violence and themes associated with resident evil (like mentions/ use of weapons).

a/n: somewhere, deep in the void, this was intended to be about 2k words, just a little one shot... but now here we are, lol. anyways thank you guys for being so patient, and thank u to my besties on here for being so kind and understanding. life is crazy, and truly i cannot keep up as consistently as i’d like to. i will always be here, even if i take some long breaks here & there. i love all u resident evil obsessed freaks, my life wouldn’t be the same without u xx also i finally decided to not be lazy & do the cute colored letters i hope u enjoy hehe

— PART I —

You peered out the window as you were driven through the endless sprawl of the snow-covered French countryside. A blur of powdery white pines occasionally broken up by small villages nestled into the hills.

Behind all those tall trees were the ragged peaks of the hulking French Alps, so expansive they nearly cut the sky in half. The beauty and stillness of winter was in full effect. Every little village had plumes of warming smoke gathering above the chimneys.

The agent driving the car interrupted your silent musing over the scenery. "You'll have to hike in. It's about 5 miles to the village, but we can't risk getting too close."

With one hand still on the wheel, he reached for the center console, pulled out a large envelope, and tossed it in your lap.

"There you'll find the information you need. Your partner, Leon Kennedy, has been undercover, posing as one of them."

Your voice is monotone, almost disinterested. "And who's them?"

"Some parasite-infected blood suckers. Leon has described them as a vampiric blood cult or something."

"And I'm just expected to waltz into all this? A blood cult? Really?"

"He talked about having a lover, a woman he returned home to, and at the time, it was just banter to fit in with them. But the cultists want to meet her. Either they're getting suspicious, or they want to play ball. Regardless, this served as a rather interesting opportunity to give Leon backup. So here you are."

Your knuckle rests below your bottom lip; you watch as the sun begins its descent below the icy mountain peaks.

So here I am.

You and one of the few other survivors of Raccoon City. You've met him, sure, but you have yet to work alongside him. But, you'd always known the day would come.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You were driven as far as the meandering forest service road would allow. Ahead of you, where the road was no more, towering evergreens had taken over. Their limbs were heavy with packed snow, creating a dense cover over the forest. Only a sliver of the remaining purple-tinted dusk made it through the trees.

"This is where you're on your own. Here are the coordinates for where you'll meet up. Just stay north until you find an abandoned barn. That's where he'll be."

You nod in understanding, equipping your array of weapons—a rifle on your back, a pistol on your hip, and a machete on the other.

"We'll have you out before the end of the week," the agent said, helping you put your pack on.

"I'll count my blessings," your face was solemn as you faced the trees, attempting to size up what lay ahead.

"Well then, you're set. The best of luck to you." a sympathetic smile formed on the agent's lips as he stepped back into the car.

Without hesitation, you departed into the cold, dark wilderness.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Seven miles may not have been a lot for you, but Seven miles of trekking through uncharted backcountry in the dark of winter was. You were chilled to the bone, and the numbness of your limbs limited your mobility ten-fold.

The thick undergrowth of the forest only got denser as you progressed, and your machete-wielding arm throbbed with every strike.

You stumbled up an embankment. With every step, loose, powdery snow slipped underneath your winter boots. Each sharp breath you took appeared as mist, illuminated by your headlamp.

As you finally reached the crest of the hill, you spotted a dilapidated barn at the base. It was nestled underneath a skeletal weeping willow tree. As you moved closer, you noticed half of its roof had caved in. Just one billow of wind could send the thing toppling.

You made your way down the slope, encroaching on the barn. You pulled out your pistol and dimmed your headlamp just to be safe.

Focusing on sound, you surveyed the area for footsteps, rustling, or speaking.

There was not a peep to be heard. Aside from the occasional whisper of wind, the surrounding forest was eerily quiet.

The crunch of the snow under your boots was frustratingly loud as you circled the barn's perimeter, searching for traps.

To your surprise, you peeked through a frosty window and saw the dull glow of a lantern, and a man sat beside it.

He was bundled head to toe in fur-lined clothing similar to your own. His eyes flicked up, and they met with yours. Without speaking, he signaled you in.

You couldn't recall what he looked like, but you remember a distinctly boyish look despite him being around your age when the incident happened. But the person who stood before you was a lot different.

This man is rugged and muscular. His cheekbones are much more pronounced, and his pale blue eyes are set deep in their sockets. Gentle yet battle-hardened. All that boyishness has dissipated.

"Leon," he said, stretching a gloved hand toward yours.

You stuttered your name through shivering lips, your hand meeting Leon's in a firm shake.

His tactful eyes scanned you, assumedly noting how cold you were.

"We really should get going. I've been holed up in a cabin only a few miles from here."

"Gladly, I'm freezing my ass off."

Without any further small talk, Leon leads the way, setting out once again for the dark, unforgiving woods.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

"Make yourself comfortable; I'll get a fire going," Leon said, opening the door for you before heading back outside for firewood.

You threw your pack onto the ground beside the fireplace. The room was completely dark, except for the small path illuminated by your headlamp.

You fumbled a matchbook out of your pocket and started to light the myriad of taper candles around the cabin.

Warm candlelight flooded the room, illuminating the interior of the gothic-style cabin. It was constructed of dark, ashy wood—the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and everything else.

Eclectic, mismatched carpets overlapped each other. And dark red curtains pooled along the ornate windows.

He called it a cabin, but the interior was rather grand.

Your heavy .22 caliber rifle had been digging into your back for hours, so you peeled it off with a relieving sigh. As you set it down on the wooden dining table, it made a hollow metallic clunk. You stripped off your other heavy layers onto the table, like your machete and belt, but kept on your fur-lined outerwear. Inside wasn't that much warmer.

With a heavy boot, Leon kicked open the front door, cradling wood in his forearms. With him, a gust of snow flurries blew into the cabin. He again kicked the door closed behind him and dumped the wood beside the fireplace.

"The snow is picking up again. You got here at the right time," Leon said, striking a match and tossing it into a pile of kindling inside the stone hearth.

You sit on a deep red Victorian-style couch in front of the fireplace. You sighed and kicked your boots up onto the coffee table.

"You call this place a cabin?" You say as your hand brushes the fine velvet upholstery of the couch.

"Well, when you see the rest of this village, you'll see why this place is considered just a cabin."

"These cultists must be the extravagant type then, huh?"

Leon piled wood onto the roaring fire, the crackling glow illumining his features. He stepped back from the heat and faced you, pulling off his heavy jacket. "Yeah, to say the least. They're greedy fuckers with bloodlines full of wealth. These gaudy homes just scratch the surface."

"So, now my real question is—how did you weasel your way in? How are you seriously posing as a cult member?" You stretched your shaky hands towards the fire, desperate for warmth. "You can't be serious that you, an American, just waltzed into a French village and are pretending to play cultist," you said with heavy speculation, your stern eyes meeting his.

Leon's lip ticked, calm eyes unbreaking from yours.

"They have plenty of outlets funneling within the United States, which gave us the perfect opening. We intercepted communications from a faction of theirs based in the States and used them as a bleed for information. Eventually, it was requested that they, we, send over a high-ranking nobility to come to France to one, act as a messenger, and two, be part of their transformation ritual."

"And that's where you came in?"

Leon's face went grave.

"Yeah, I trained to be and act like one of them. I learned every piece of information we know about this narcissistic vampire cult and its deviant religion. I've had to change everything about my life and thinking to be here. It's been months kissing ass in the hope of more information."

The room was becoming increasingly warm, and you started to feel claustrophobic in your winter clothing. You began to shed your layers of outerwear.

"That sounds awful. I can't believe you've made it out here, alone, for so long..." you paused for a moment but resumed, "but please, tell me that it has been worth it."

The question loomed thick in the air as you struggled with your boots, eventually kicking them off and walking to the fire to warm your cold, damp feet.

You could really get a good look at Leon here. He wore a tight black shirt that emphasized his muscular build and black cargo pants. His complexation looked soft against the warm firelight, juxtaposing the intensity of his prominent features.

He, too, seemed to be taking in your appearance as you sauntered toward the light. What he was thinking about was absolutely unknown, as he remained stone-faced.

"It has," he said, breaking the silence. "It has been worth it."

Leon's eyes drifted to his hands as if in a trance.

"What we now know about the cultists can completely change the course of this fight. But as I push forward, it's not going to be easy. I don't think this is going to end smoothly. That's why I needed backup." Leon cleared his throat. But there is a catch, too."

His eyes darted up to meet yours. You tensed, straightening your back, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

"The king, that fucking king, wants me to bring my lover."

Although you were briefed on this situation prior, nothing could have prepared you for hearing it from him directly.

You laughed-- partly to ease the tension, but mainly because the mission-altering crux for the honored agent is his girlfriend.

"It's crazy, I know, but it couldn't be a more perfect invitation to bring another agent in." His cheeks flushed with the slightest hue of red.

"Please, tell me how you got into this situation in the first place". You tried to contain your laughter but failed.

Leon breathed an exasperated sigh.

"Well, the Lords, false prophets more like, banter about their romantic conquests. And well, after they all had drowned on about all the unsavory details, they looked at me, awaiting what story I had to tell."

"And what did you tell 'em?"

"I did what I had to do. I made up stories about having a girlfriend at home... And whatever else would keep them from asking too many questions."

You nodded.

"They also bring their women to the castle and flaunt them like furs. Sometimes, it's literally for their blood. Most of the time, it's just to stroke their own ego by having pretty women hanging off them." Leon added.

Of course, the power-hungry vampire kings saw women as conquests. Ultimately, it shouldn't surprising that it would come to this.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

It's been a long, long day.

You have all the information you need at this point, and the exhaustion is quickly overtaking you.

You yawn with outstretched arms, relaxing them to rub your heavy eyelids. Your body is finally warm, and you realize how well the bone-chilling cold kept you awake.

"I'll show you to your room," Leon said, helping you collect the things you dumped around the room. He led you down a darkened hallway to your bedroom.

"There are some clothes and a few other things you may need. If you need anything else, my room is just across the hall," he stated, setting your things down.

"Is there anything I need to know about tomorrow?" You added before Leon could step out of the room.

"You'll have the day to adjust. We'll go over the mission then. Just focus on resting up for now."

His lips came to a subtle smile, "Goodnight."

You smiled back, "Goodnight to you too."

You surveyed the room, starting with the armoire. It was full of clothes that looked like they were from another time: grand dresses with sheer, lacy fabrics of black and red with low sweeping necklines. There was also a long black hooded cape, corsets, and tall-heeled boots. The drawers below housed underwear and pajamas.

You slipped off your dingy clothes for a long black strappy nightgown from the armoire.

You hid your weapons around the room, your rifle, machete, and extra ammo in the closet, your knives in the vanity, and your pistol tucked under the mattress.

Like the rest of the decor, the bed was ornate. It was intricately carved out of the same ashwood as the cabin. The white sheets were plush and soft to the touch.

After securing your room, you crawled into bed. Falling almost immediately into sleep.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Blinding white winter's light singed your vision as you woke up in a panic, a persistent cracking noise echoed from outside. It was a splintering sound as if someone was trying to get in.

You stealthily crawled out of bed and cracked open the bedroom curtain to peer outside. Nothing of interest could be seen, only the quiet woods blanketed by fresh snow.

The woods were now illuminated by sunshine, making them appear significantly less intimidating than last night. That didn't make them any less haunting, though.

Pistol in hand, You tiptoed through the house in search of Leon. First, you knocked on his bedroom door, and when he didn't answer, you investigated the rest of the house.

There were no signs of Leon, only the smell of something cooking and the sound of that grating thudding noise echoing through the house.

You silently opened the front door and exited barefoot, the coldness of the snow against your skin sending shivers up your spine. The satin fabric of your nightgown offered no protection from the elements.

One step at a time, you sneaked around the side of the house. The thudding got louder with each pace, and your heartbeat raced with adrenaline.

Carefully, You rounded the corner to the source of the noise. Arms straight, gun drawn.

Leon's eyes, bewildered, raked your figure, and he huffed a laugh, "Good morning, super cop. You must be freezing."

He looked down the barrel of the gun before you put it down.

He was just chopping wood.

Clearly, your senses were on high alert. You felt embarrassed that something so trivial and ordinary ticked those mental alarms.

Defensively, you retorted, "Well, I'm not the one chopping wood in a creepy vampire town first thing in the morning! For God's sake, I thought someone was breaking in or attacking!" You huffed, crossing your arms, a once panicked stare turning to one of annoyance.

Leon dropped the axe in the snow, reaching for a large piece of wood.

"And coming outside, in the dead of winter, wearing only a nightgown would have made a difference?" Leon said with a smirk, but it dropped quickly as he again reached for the axe to chop another piece of wood.

"And a gun! You seemed to have missed that part, and what else was I supposed to do? Spend 10 minutes putting my gear on?" You argued with a pout. Muscles tensed as adrenaline melted away.

You were still waking up and not in the mood to argue. But yes, you definitely could have kicked ass in your pajamas.

"Okay, okay, I promise I'm done pestering you. Breakfast is on the stove. You should go eat."

Begrudgingly, you walked back inside, mumbling your frustrations to yourself. It's safe to say you're not a fan of rude awakenings.

While lounging on the couch, you ate the breakfast of eggs and bacon Leon had prepared. You flipped through your logbook, filling in everything that happened in the last 24 hours.

Leon opened the front door, shaking off his snow-covered clothing before entering. He'd been out there for hours, and it was evident in the sweat that lingered down the side of his forehead.

Standing in the foyer, Leon peeled off his brown fur-lined bomber jacket and casually pulled the sweat-drenched black t-shirt over his head.

You watched him from where you sat on the couch, a bit confused as he acted as if no one was around.

You got a glimpse of the toned plane that was his back. He stretched his arms out, unintentionally giving you a better view. He rolled out his sore shoulder blades for a moment, and you discreetly watched from the corner of your eye.

You stifled whatever the fuck that feeling was and resumed your logbook.

In an attempt to find some grievance, you cleared your throat. It was subtle enough not to seem suspicious but clear enough that Leon definitely heard you.

But you're sure he was aware of you the entire time.

Leon walked toward the hallway and said, "I have a business to take care of at the castle; when I get back, we'll go over what's expected for the mission tomorrow. You'll find the notebook I've kept about these people on the bookshelf. You should skim it to familiarize yourself."

He walked into the bathroom without waiting for your reply. The only sound was the door shutting behind him.

Leon had left to take care of his end of the mission, and you remained alone in the cabin for the rest of the day.

You bathed and changed into real clothes, skipping over the elaborate dresses in favor of the spare black jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt you packed.

You left your bedroom to head to the living room but stopped at Leon's door adjacent to yours.

You were curious about what his room looked like, and rightfully so. He was rather serious, not letting off much about his personal side. Even while working, other agents, like Jill Valentine, had more outward displays of self-identity.

You wondered what the man behind the agent's identity was like, But you respectfully kept walking.

Typically, you're not overly curious about your cohorts, But people like Leon and Jill lived through the same tragedy you did. You often felt alone in your pain, But you found a sliver of comfort in knowing that you, in fact, were not.

You flipped through the very detailed notes Leon had taken. He explained the parasite they intended to use for "world domination," the pecking order amongst the rulers, detailed maps of the castle, and whatever else he found out.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

"Hey, wake up," Leon said gently, nudging your shoulder.

You woke up sitting on the floor, arms crossed and body hunched over the coffee table.

Through blurry vision, you saw Leon beside you, wearing a fancy white dress shirt and a tie loose around his neck.

"What time is it?" You mumbled, sitting up to stretch out your very numb legs.

"Late—I got back about an hour ago, I made dinner if you're hungry."

Leon reached out a hand, and you took it. Grunting as he helped you up.

"Yeah, I am," You replied, your stomach grumbling.

You sat at the dining table with Leon. He prepared grilled veggies and chicken for dinner, which was surprisingly good.

"How'd it go," you asked between bites.

"Fine, everything is going according to plan. We're all set for tomorrow," Leon replied,

"What exactly are we doing tomorrow?" you raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you saw those dresses in your room. You'll have to wear one, but it's easy from there. You'll stay quiet and follow my lead. You'll have to act like my girlfriend. But it will also be a good time to familiarize yourself with the castle and, you know, memorize the layout."

Leon took a sip of wine and offered you a gentle look, "Are you okay with that?"

You replied, "Of course I am. It's a pretty small price to pay to take these fuckers down." You flashed a cheeky grin before taking a sip of your wine. "We got this."

You continued to talk over dinner, going back and forth and sharing each other's backgrounds. You told Leon about your experience in Raccoon City— what had happened and how you'd escaped it.

But for you, It was surreal hearing about Leon's involvement in the incident. Hearing about the people he saved, the enemies he took down, and the sacrifices he made were… Comforting.

Comforting to know someone else could actually relate to you.

Comforting to know there is hope.

You know there are scars deep below the surface—you know that from experience. But meeting someone who still cares so much about helping others proves that those wounds do, in fact, heal.

You and Leon cleaned up the kitchen before saying goodnight and heading to your rooms for the night.

You lay in your plush bed, unable to sleep. Your mind is whirring with a frenzy of emotions. Your conversation with Leon is still sinking in. The nerves concerning tomorrow's mission stake their claim.

It's okay. It's okay.

You try to soothe yourself. Suppress whatever unreconciled emotions were brought up.

Just finish the mission.

— PART II —

A beautifully lavish Victorian-style ball gown adorned your body. It has a flowing tiered skirt constructed from deep, blood-red satin. The bodice was corseted tightly to your abdomen, pushing your breasts up so that they are nearly spilling out of the gown's low square neckline. The quarter sleeves fit tightly but poof out at your elbows with frilly lace. The whole ensemble is accented with black bows and delicate lacework.

You watched yourself in the vanity mirror as you carefully pinned your hair up. Enchanted by the unfamiliar person the mirror reflected back.

This wasn't you. But a princess.

A princess who has never killed or witnessed the mass extinction of innocent people. A princess who didn't have to give up her normal life against her will.

Although seeing yourself dressed up like the beautiful person you'll never be was strange. But maybe, battle-scarred government agents could wear pretty dresses, sometimes.

With your hair set in place, you head to the living room, where you are met by Leon in an equally uncharacteristic outfit.

He took in your appearance, a smile decorating his face. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

You filled the silence instead. "You look nice." You spoke softly.

He did look nice.

Leon wore a billowy white shirt with ruffles along the neckline. The plunging neckline had a small corset-style detail, and it was tucked into a pair of perfectly fitted black trousers.

Simple, but effectively good-looking. The fit of his clothes came off as rich and a little romantic. Well suited for a band of vampires.

"As do you," Leon said, voice deep and restricted.

You hid your face by looking down at your shoes, concealing the growing flush along your cheeks. "Thank you." You said in almost a whisper.

"Are you ready?" he asked, offering his arm to you.

You nod in affirmation and thread your arm through his.

Leon led you through a little stone path through the woods. At this time, it was only about an hour before dusk.

The combination of winter woods and the near-setting sun created an image of beautiful calm. If you were to let your mind wander, It would feel like you were on a date, taking a stroll through the forest.

"I told you these cultists were sick bastards, right?" Leon said too casually.

You nod, "Yes, you definitely mentioned that."

The dense woods begin to clear, and the path leads to a small village. At the horizon, the pointed spikes of a grand castle make a lethal appearance. You take it all in, honing yourself into a covert weapon. Descending into this "character" of unexpected harm.

"And you understand that how I'll behave tonight is all a part of the act?" Leon asks for your assurance one last time before entering the village.

Your heels land on the cobblestone that had been cleared of snow. The warm glow of the town's candlelight radiates as the sun begins to set.

Making brief eye contact with a villager, you squeeze Leon's arm a little tighter and murmur, "I could say the same to you, my lord." A wicked smile now painted your face.

Leon whispered lowly, "Glad to see you're committed to the bit."

As a pair, you two walked through the town's main pathway, a straight shot to the looming castle ahead. You noted that the townspeople were off.

Very, very off.

They behaved more like mindless zombies than people; their eyes glowed crimson red. Most of them just walked by idly, with no sense of purpose. Others stood hauntingly still, staring at you so intensely you felt it in your soul.

Even the farm animals that lingered on the streets were off. They walked erratically, and their eyes glowed, too.

This place gave you the creeps. Typical Umbrella.

Reaching the castle at last— It demanded your attention with its many oversized spires and massive arched windows. Light flowed red through the stained glass, adding to its intensity.

The snow-covered graveyard and cross-tipped spires informed you this wasn't just a castle but an unholy cathedral.

You had to walk through the graveyard to reach the entrance. You noted the tombstones engraved with outdated French names and dates as far back as the 1800s. It all added to the ancient terror surrounding the looming cathedral.

Upon arriving, the massive arched door began to creak open, and a man clad in a dark red suit greeted the two of you with a thick French accent. "Good evening, Sir Kennedy. We are so very pleased that you and your-" he paused, a sly smile forming, "madame, could make it."

Leon did not reply to the doorman.

He walked past with his head held high and eyes peering downwards. His look emanated superiority as if he had no interest in conversation with a man so far below him.

Leon grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, guiding you up the curved stairs that dominated the foyer.

You passed servants who wore simple, white, floor-length dresses with aprons and bonnets. Each servant stopped in their tracks to bow their head as you, he, walked past.

The action sent chills down your spine.

What was the true extent of power he reached in this so-called monarchy?

You arrived at a grand arched doorway swirled with ornamental gold detailing. Two men opened the doors in unison, letting you through.

Elegant music flooded the huge open ballroom. Orchestral pianos and violins serenaded your ears.

People waltzed, people drank wine, people talked, and the vampires watched.

On the dais, the looming darkness of men sitting on ornate thrones watched the every move of the people below.

Every seat was occupied except for one.

Everything suddenly stopped. The music went silent, and the people parted, bowing their heads down.

Slowly, you two approached the dais, Standing hand in hand at the steps. The man who sat in the centermost seat smiled devilishly. "Glad you could make it, Lord Kennedy." His French accent was thick.

Leon bowed his head. "Of course, your majesty."

"Why would you want to miss a ball as extravagant, as special, as this one, anyways? Lord Kennedy, we wouldn't want to disappoint our guest, wouldn't we?"

The Lord ticked an eyebrow, reaching a pale, lanky hand to you.

Leon's breath seized but quickly relaxed as he let go of your hand, hinting for you to accept.

You gracefully walked the steps, rhythmically breathing in and out to offset the heavy heartbeat that accompanied each step. The air loomed cold and silent as the echoes of your footsteps filled the hall.

The King was pale as fresh snow, with icy blue veins protruding from his skin. His eyes were glowing red, and long black hair cascaded down his shoulders to his chest. He wore an ornate gold, black, and red suit and a crown topped his head. He looked as if he was once very handsome, but now, he is not so good-looking.

You rested your hand on him, avoiding eye contact. His freezing touch sent a shiver through you.

The King lowered his head and placed a prolonged kiss on the back of your hand. His left hand grabbed your upper arm, turning it so your wrist faced upward. He ran his fingers down your arm, resting on your wrist. A devilish grin formed on his thin lips, presumably from the pleasure in whatever he found in you.

His head raised, but his hand remained fixed on your wrist. You made eye contact this time. His gleaming eyes burrowing into yours.

You could feel your hot blood running against his cold touch. Your pulse filled the silence of the too-quiet ballroom. You wanted to run, but not without a fight, and get out of this Umbrella Corporation daymare.

"Ma chérie," he whispered into your skin.

There is no running. No fighting. Today, you must pretend.

Leon stood beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, his eyes dark, looking down at the still-seated King.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Leon asked rhetorically, a bite in his tone.

The Lord laughed, releasing your hand.

"No need to be so overbearing, Leon. N'aie pas peur. Please sit and join your fellow nobility."

The last empty chair was his. You scanned the other taken thrones. Some of the men were already turned, marked distinctively by glowing, crimson eyes and a lifeless complexion.

Although some, like Leon, had not yet been turned.

From your reading the previous day, you learned that in the eyes of the cult immortality was a privilege, not a right. They believed one must earn that privilege by dedicated service to the organization before even being considered.

Leon took a seat, relaxing on his throne. You stood beside him awkwardly, not entirely knowing what to do. But, with a tap at your side, you figured it out.

You perched on Leon's lap, your billowy dress flowing over his legs and spilling like blood onto the marble floor. He wrapped a hand around your corseted abdomen, and the other rested in your lap.

Your heart raced a little harder.

"You must be in need of a drink." The King asked.

"Some music would be nice, too," Leon said with a scoff loud enough for musicians on the floor to hear.

The music resumed, and again, the bowing people began dancing. Still, it was finally replaced by the movement and energy of song and dance.

One of the white dress servants arrived with two glasses full of red wine upon a silver platter. Leon made no effort to grab them, so you took them both, passing one off to him.

Leon pressed his lips up to your ear, "drink up, baby," he whispered.

You almost forgot— even your whispers could be herd by the immortal's keen hearing. Every thing that was said, even in a murmur, had to be in line.

It was strange to hear him talk like that, but admittedly you weren't bothered. Although the closeness was unexpected, It's been a long time since you were this close to someone. It had been a year? Maybe two? Since you were at all intimate with another person.

It felt good. He radiated warmth, his touch was gentle, and his handsomeness unmatched.

You downed your glass while Leon sipped on his. His scanning eyes watched the crowd, occasionally flickering back to the King but always ending on you.

He admired as your painted lips caressed the edge of the fine crystal wine glass and how your throat bobbed with each drink.

He called for a refill and demanded more, which the servants promptly fulfilled, And they kept it coming. After every glass you two emptied, they refilled.

Amongst themselves, Leon and the vampire Lords talked about courtly business. and as they talked, Leon's large hands ran down your leg, pulling up your skirt, and exposing up to your knee.

They were talking about war, and all rather intense subject matters. But Leon's hand kept working higher up your legs. Petting and caressing every bit of exposed skin. The King couldn't look away, neither could the other lords, or even the people below.

He used you as a spectacle, to assert his dominance, and power over the rest of the court, and it worked. The commoners were afraid of him, and the lords respected him. He mastered the facade of villainous superiority that belittled all in its path. One that possessed his lover entirely and wanted the world to know it.

His lavish touch across your legs, mixed with the headiness of the wine, brought you to a euphoric state. Coaxed by his affection, you can't help but submit.

Your back arched into his abdomen, yearning for more touch. You could not recall any of the words spoken around you, only the ecstasy of his lips meeting your neck. A soft whisper of a kiss was all he gave you, but your breathing hitched, and your body heated.

You were damned. Damned for liking it as much as you did.

He paused for a moment. Only a minute's break in time, and he still left you internally begging like a dog.

"My, my, what a statement you're making, Lord Kennedy. You plan on sharing?" The King taunted, practically drooling at your bare, pawing legs.

You spoke for the first time the entire night, causing every member of the court's head (that wasn't already) to turn.

"No."

You shot an arrow through the King's fragile pride.

The King's lip twitched. "What a defiant whore you managed to fish up."

Leon laughed, grinning wildly, "Oh, well, you should see how well she obeys me." He patted your thigh in approval, placing an absolutely panty-drenching kiss along your neck.

The King rolled his eyes, but lords couldn't hide their amusement as they stifled back laughter.

Leon rested his knuckle under your chin, "Go on, my love, apologize."

The King retorted snappily, "There's no need for that."

Thank God.

You took an extra large drink of wine to ease the tension, falling back into Leon's warm chest.

They continued on as if nothing ever happened, talking about things you knew nothing about.

Leon listened, cool and aloof, but his hands satiated your need. He resumed the game of inching higher up your leg. His warm fingers trace dizzying circles along your inner thigh.

His calloused fingers felt rough and masculine against your velvet soft skin. He squeezed your thigh, accidentally eliciting a lusty whimper from you.

"You like that, don't you, pretty girl?" Leon's breath grazed along your neck, his lips taunting you mere centimeters away from your bare skin.

You pressed your back into the hardness of his body, a needy and desperate attempt for more—more of his lavish touch. You didn't even care who saw.

You turned a cheek, sharing Leon's darkened, sultry gaze. The usual warmth in his pale blue eyes was totally vacant. He observed you like prey, nothing more than a deer in the crosshairs.

The hand that rested on your waist dragged up to your face and cupped your jaw, his thumb petting your lip, transferring your red lipstick to his skin.

His grip on your thigh intensified, digging hard into your skin. Your lips parted with a soft gasp, and your legs opened wider in response to his touch.

Hunter and hunted.

Leon bit his lip as he slid his finger into your mouth. Your lips puckered pretty around his finger, and Leon watched in feral attraction as you teased him with the tip of your tongue. You oozed confidence and sultry submission, letting your doe eyes do the talking.

The lines between the act and reality truly blurred.

The way he touched you felt too real, too right. You craved more than just the teasing.

As if in an answer, Leon's hands migrated lower and lower down your abdomen. Finally, working to where you craved most. But, he couldn't find the proof of how good he made you feel. Your soaking wet underwear would be damning to your case.

In a desperate attempt, you arched your back, attempting to pull yourself away from his wandering touch. In turn, you could feel the unmistakable hardness in his pants pressing against your back.

Oh, he wanted you too. At this stage, you both should just be condemned.

The on-lookers watched from below as you pressed into Leon's length. You ground yourself against him. Your skin glowed with sweat, and strands of hair were falling from your updo and swept around your face.

There were no secrets in the way you felt; you practically radiated sex, intimacy, and everything in between.

One of Leon's hands dragged up your body and grasped your ribcage directly under your breast. The other rested on your collarbones. He pulled your ear to his lips and whispered, "Don't let it go to your head."

You swallowed, heart racing. "What?"

Leon's arrogant grin now pressed against your ear. "That every man in this room is imagining themselves in my place. Don't forget that you belong to me, darling."

"I would never-" You were cut short by Leon's grip tightening around your abdomen.

"Don't patronize me," he demanded, but his white-knuckle grip loosened and transformed into apologetic strokes down your side.

"Yes, my lord." Sweet and submissive.

The King seemed to approve, as marked by an appraising nod he shared with Leon.

A servant walked by, head hung low, and Leon's voice cracked like thunder. "Wine, now." Pure demand in his voice.

You drank the seemingly bottomless glasses of wine Leon ordered. You should have stopped, but you drank on to avoid any unfavorable conversations.

Tonight, you learned that French vampires love to drink.

The night grew late-- You, Leon, and the other Lords were drunker than sailors. Conversations of importance were divulged into off-topic chit-chat and banter. The people below slow-danced to the soft ballads that hummed through the castle.

It was a struggle to stay awake. All the wine, the music, the expectations, the teasing. It tired you out. Your head lay in Leon's chest, soaking up his sent-- Open sky and rugged woods. Your dainty hands gracefully stroked his exposed chest, painting little circles, occasionally your hands reached up to play with his pretty blonde hair. Leon languidly stroked your arm, head resting lazily to the side.

Leon sat up, shifting you with him, and cleared his throat, "My king, It's been a pleasure, but we should head back now."

"Why don't you just say the night? I would hate to see your poor madame walk all the way back to your... Maison, this late."

You and Leon exchanged a look; you weren't exactly sure if he had accounted for this in his plan. Your eyebrows threaded together, a look of annoyance and confusion, but Leon quickly turned away.

"What a hospitable offer, your highness." He responded eloquently. He knew that someone who was actually in his place would never reject an offer like that.

"It's the least I can do for you, Lord Kennedy; after all, you've been so dedicated to our cause." A sly villain-like smirk formed on the King's lips.

Leon politely bowed his head in acknowledgment.

The King snapped his fingers, and without an exchange of words, a servant was at the throne you and Leon shared.

You both stood up and followed her, hand in hand.

You passed by the other Lords still seated along the dais. Their prowling eyes raked your body as you walked by. Leon was right; you were in everyone's minds. Stripped bare and doing unspeakable things to them.

It repulsed you to be thirsted over by depraved vampire lords, but in some sacrilegious facet of your mind, you were flattered by it. You even walked in a way that accentuated your hips, teasing them just a little more.

You were just passing the King's throne when suddenly someone grabbed your arm. It was the King who had implored his icy hand around your arm, pulling you into him. You gasped as he bent you over the armrest of his throne and placed a kiss on your cheek. "Bonne nuit, ma chérie" He whispered in your ear.

He activated your desire to fight back; you wanted to place your hands around the scrawny King's neck and kill him right there. You could without any resistance, too.

But, you suppressed your urge. Sweet and submissive, you told yourself. You already got yourself in enough trouble with your previous stunt, best not to ruin it now.

"Goodnight, your Highness," you muttered back as dainty and feminine as you could manage.

The King released you, and as you took a step back, you were in Leon's chest; his arms were quick to wrap around you, like a knight in shining armor waiting for his princess.

As you left the dais, the people of the ballroom once again stopped dancing, and bowed as you and Leon walked through, escorted by the servant.

She showed you to your room, opened the door, bowed, and left promptly.

The room was entirely white and gold, similar in design to the rest of the castle, but featuring a giant bed in the middle of the room with a canopy of pooling gauzy fabric.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you whispered once the door was closed behind you.

Leon rubbed the temples of his forehead as if he had a headache, "I'm not sure. I didn't expect him to want us to stay the night."

You looked around the room, unsure of what to do now. "Should we escape?"

Leon peaked his head out the window, surveying the area, "That's an option, but risky," he muttered. "It would blow our cover when they inevitably found us gone. The plan was to kill the nobility a few days from now, on the full moon. That's when they're planning on turning one of the human lords immortal."

"Why does it have to be then? Can't it just be now? They're all drunk and lounging around, for God's sake!" You accidentally raised your voice, and Leon shushed you by pressing his finger to your lips.

"When they turn someone immortal, they have to use the parasite... The plan is to steal the parasite during the ceremony and then kill them. We need to bring it back to America so it can be studied.

But, I haven't been able to find where they store them; as far as I'm aware, only the King knows. That's why I've been waiting for the ceremony."

"So... We stay?" you said defeatedly.

"Unfortunately."

You looked around the room, rummaging through the wardrobe and the various drawers throughout. Everything was empty except for the Holy Bible in a desk drawer.

"You can have the bed, I'll take the couch." Leon offered kicking off his boots before sitting on the small white and gold couch.

"That couch is so small, you can have the bed." You tried to negotiate.

"No, no, it's all yours. I've slept on much worse than this." He said, stretching his legs out along the couch. It was too short for him, so his feet dangled off the armrest.

You sighed; there's no point in arguing.

"Well, I can't sleep in this dress. It weighs about 20lbs, and it's too damn hot."

"There was no spare clothes?" Leon asked.

"Nope."

Leon looked around the room, eyebrows stitched together in thought, before he resolved, "You can have my shirt."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, It's no trouble at all, really."

Leon remained where he was on the couch, eyes closed.

You stood on the other side of the room, fumbling with the corseting on your dress, unable to unlace it. "How the hell did I even get this on earlier?" you mumbled to yourself.

Leon's eyes perked open, watching you struggle. He cleared his throat, "Do you need help with that?"

You didn't answer but still struggled.

Leon took it upon himself to help you. He walked over and began unlacing the many rows of tight lacing along the back of your dress.

"Thank you," you said so very quietly.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier, I—"

You cut him off, "Don't—You don't have to apologize. I understand, truly."

Silence loomed over the room, and only the sound of fabric rustling filled the void. You tried to find the right words to say, but you came up empty-handed.

Leon reached the last eyelet, and you held the gown at the bust so it wouldn't fall off. Although you admittedly wouldn't mind if it did.

Your back was entirely exposed to him, only inches away from pressing against his chest. Your mind slipped— what if you took a step back? Let him do what you want him to do. Let him explore your body even more than he did earlier.

His strong hands could surely do a lot, and his pretty blonde hair would look great between your legs—

God damn.

Leon broke your silent daydream by taking off his white-ruffled shirt. He handed it off to you at your side, gentlemen-like.

He meandered back to the couch, resuming his position of outstretched legs along the cushions, closing his eyes.

You checked over your shoulder to ensure his eyes were closed, and then you let your dress fall to the ground.

You dawned Leon's shirt. The cottony fabric felt soft against your skin and smelled overwhelming like him, rugged and masculine.

In the mirror, you watched yourself let down your updo, letting your hair fall and combing it out with your fingers. Here is where you noticed that Leon's shirt is just a little too sheer.

The outline of your silhouette was vaguely noticeable through his airy shirt, but your nipples were definitely visible.

Oh well.

You folded up the gown and placed it at the foot of the bed atop the quilted velvet ottoman. You were about to get into bed before peaking one more glance at Leon.

He was statuesque in the way his body stretched along the couch. He had a hand atop his very defined abs, and his other arm dangled off the couch.

The faint blueish hue of the moon illuminated him in gentle light, it was the only light in the room, save for the single lit candle next to the bed.

Leon was so pretty in the way he slept. He looked so at peace, so beautiful, and so kissable.

It pained you to not invite him to your bed; maybe in another lifetime, you would have.

But you certainly could not let him sleep without a blanket or a pillow.

You peeled off the first blanket layer of your bed, grabbed one of the many over-filled pillows, and tiptoed to where Leon rested.

Gently, you set a folded blanket on the foot of Leon's bed, causing him to open his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Leon's mumble trailed off into a yawn.

You whispered, "I don't want you to get cold, so I'm giving you some of my blankets."

Leon smiled faintly. "Oh, I see…" he trailed off and then added, "Thanks for that."

You looked pretty; your hair and makeup were a mess but in all the right ways.

Leon noticed how pretty you were. How pretty you were in his shirt, with nothing else underneath.

"I hope this is enough for you."

"Yes, it's more than enough," he reassured.

"I'm going to head to my bed then, goodnight Leon."

He didn't show it, and you would never know it, but he loved how you said his name.

"Goodnight to you, too."

In that moment, time stood still. You couldn't walk away. You wanted to bask in the shared space of each other's gazes, bound by lust. Leon, too, made no attempt to break away.

You'll probably regret it later, but there is no harm in trying, right?

Instead of leaving, you bent down as if to pick something up, but you stopped when you reached his ear.

"Leon..." You whispered quietly.

"Yes?"

Your heartbeat raced so fast it felt like it was gonna jump out of your chest. "Do you really want me to go?"

Leon paused, raking his mind for the correct answer. "No."

He turned his head, pressing his forehead to yours, and resting his hand on the back of your neck, running his fingers through your hair.

"I didn't want to either," you said breathily.

He smiled and kissed you. The first real kiss you shared. It felt like a wave of warmth crashing down your body, every one of your instincts telling you yes. His lips were soft and gentle against your own.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Leon whispered into the kiss.

You replied, "Me neither."

Leon pulled you by your waist, sitting you on top of him, and deepened the kiss by grazing his tongue against yours. He tasted purely of wine.

Your hands ran desperately through Leon's hair as his hands caressed your ribcage down to your hips. His grasp settled onto your waist, stroking his thumbs along your ribs. You playfully bit his lip, praising the way he touched you.

Leon's lips broke away from yours, and they began to press small kisses down your cheek, and then your neck, and then your chest. Every single one felt like pure ecstasy against your skin.

Your arms wrapped around Leon's neck as you arched your back, pressing your chest deeper into his kiss. His grasp along your waist tightened with your movement.

He was aching and so hard in the confined trousers he still wore; Leon rocked you against himself while he made out with your chest.

You moaned with gasping breaths at the feeling of him rutting into you, your head falling back carelessly.

Leon's hand met the spots he kissed, dancing along the wet skin of your chest. His wandering fingers teased the outer edge of the shirt you wore, wanting to pull it down. His lips followed down the V of the shirt, But before he could do anything more, you raised your arms, slipping the shirt over your head.

You were entirely exposed to him, save for your underwear. Leon thanked you by pressing kisses along your pretty breasts, thumbs twirling around your hardened nipples. His lips met where his thumbs danced, puckering his lips around your nipples, stroking and sucking them with his tongue.

You gasped, nearly at the edge of becoming undone. Leon worshipped your breasts like his own personal deity, letting out low, strained moans.

You lost all sense of control, grinding yourself into Leon's bulging lap, getting off at the sensation of his cock twitching for you.

"More," You moaned as Leon released the suck on your nipple with a wet-sounding smack.

You pressed down on Leon's chest, pushing him into the couch.

God, you looked so lovely and desperate from Leon's perspective.

Your hands slipped between your legs, resting on the bulge that strained between them. You caressed him through the fabric, teasing him with a pouty smirk.

Leon's mouth gaped slightly, sucking in a breath as he watched you adore him. You nimbly unbuttoned his pants, pulling down the zipper.

Leon sat up and pushed you back so your legs wrapped around his waist. He stood up, picking you up with ease, and walked you to the bed, gently resting you onto the fortress of overstuffed pillows.

He took off his trousers before joining you, his protruding cock making a tent in his underwear.

"You're beautiful," Leon fawned at your figure before bending down to kiss your thighs. "I loved touching your legs earlier, darling," he added.

You're fully melting at his sugar-covered affections.

You sat up, taking Leon's head in your delicate hands with a devouring kiss. You pulled him back, so he laid on top of you. One of his arms embraced you, and the other brushed between your legs.

His fingers toyed with you, sweetly caressing you through your soaked underwear. You moaned into the kiss as Leon began tracing small circles over the fabric. His hands then nuzzled beneath your underwear, meeting your aching sex fully.

His calloused fingers lapped your cunt, but ended on your clit, circling it gently. You broke from his kiss, head arching back from the intensity of pleasure you felt. Leon licked his lips as he watched you fold under him. Leon tugged off your underwear, deepening your pleasure as he rubbed his fingers around your opening.

Your hands, in desperate need of touch, caressed the expanse of Leon's amazingly defined torso. It alone killed you, the sheer strength he possessed. He was trained into a lethal weapon, but man, did he feel so good.

From Leon's torso, you ventured lower, tugging at the waistband of his underwear. Leon's gaze met your begging doe eyes, pleading him for more.

With your help, he pulled off his underwear, releasing his pretty, throbbing cock. Your hand softly wrapped around his length, petting him slowly. Leon's breath hitched as you did so.

You wrapped a leg around Leon's waist, pulling yourself up to straddle him. Perched on his lap, you rested your soaking cunt onto the length of his cock. Leon's hands dug into your hips, grinding his himself against your folds.

"Leon," you gasped, soaking in the feeling of him beneath you.

He moaned, hungrily watching the way your bodies met.

He sat up, pressing his chest against your stomach, and pressed kisses along your breasts. As he did so, he lifted you up by the waist, giving himself just enough space to push his length into you.

Loudly, you whimpered as his length filled your entire cunt. You bounced yourself on Leon as he sucked your nipples.

Leon released you from his mouth, lying back down, fingers digging into your upper thighs as he fucked himself into you hard. Letting his entire length fill you up before pulling back.

You couldn't help your hopeless cries and moans as his pace picked up, fucking you like the world depended on it. Maybe it did.

You were a few forceful pumps away from reaching your peak, and as you forced yourself into him even deeper, Leon lifted you up by the waist, off of him.

Dazed, you whined, "Why."

He only responded by nudging you over onto your hands and knees, spreading your legs wide for himself.

Leon's cock pressed at your entrance while his hand toyed with your clit, teasing you. He so very slowly pushed himself in, making you feel every inch of his length as he entered you.

"Just like that," he hushed under a moan and then rammed his cock into you, building up speed, fucking you faster and faster.

Your nails dug into the bed sheets, reaching for something that does not exist. Leon smacked your ass with a deep moan as his tip reached even deeper inside of you.

The only noise filling the room was the sound of your skin clapping against his and your shared feverish moans.

"You feel so good," you cooed, pawing at the sheets. "I don't think I can last much longer."

He slowed down his pace, pulling his cock almost entirely out of you before inching himself back in. "You can last just a little longer for me, pretty girl."

"Okay, yes, please just fuck me harder," you pleaded. Grinding yourself on his length, desperate for more than he was giving.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Leon groaned and fucked you so hard that the bed was shaking back and forth. His arm reached up from behind, grasping your neck in his hand. He was hunched over you, fingers squeezing your jaw as he plunged deeper and faster.

His teeth were clenched, and his breath was fast as he burrowed his throbbing cock so far into your cunt that you came completely undone, crying his name as you rode your climax out.

"Leon, Leon, Leon," you cried as your wetness dripped down his leg.

Leon's breath seized as he pulled himself out of you, resting his cock on the small of your back, spilling hot all over your skin.

His grasp loosened, trailing down your neck. His head rested on your back, reeling himself back from his climax.

You rested your body, splaying yourself along the bed. Leon got off of you and frantically looked around the room for something to wipe your back with. He settled on the blanket you had left for him on the couch, thinking to himself, their problem, not mine.

"Thanks," you giggled as he cleaned you off.

He crawled into bed, tucking into the massive billowy covers, and you did the same. You blew out the single candle next to the bedside, leaving only moonlight to douse the room.

Leon opened up his arm, beckoning you into his embrace.

You cuddled him, soaking up his scent and his warmth. All while relishing in the tingling euphoria your body felt.

"Goodnight, for real?" Leon said quietly, sleep heavy in his voice.

"Goodnight, for real, Leon." Your heavy lids shut, falling into sleep.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You wake up on Leon's chest to a knock at the door. The morning sun singed the pounding headache induced by last night's wine-filled activities.

Leon woke up, too, wincing and rubbing his temples. He got out of bed, pulling on his underwear and pants.

Leon's hair was a disheveled mess, and the remnants of your lipstick still stained his neck and his cheek. He answered the door to one of the servants standing there.

She bowed, her thick French accent trembling. "Lord Kennedy, I apologize if I interrupted, but the king wants a word with you."

"Can you show me to the bath first? You can't seriously expect me to talk to him looking like this?" he sounded harsh, and you almost forgot about the character he had to play.

Her voice trembled. "Yes, of course, sir. Not that you look bad, but yes, I'll show you to the bath."

"And her too," the servant peaked her head through the doorway, under the arm that Leon propped himself up with, and saw you, sitting up in bed, covering your naked body with the duvet.

She immediately ducked back in line, "Yes, of course." she bowed her head once more.

Leon tossed you his shirt, which was lying on the ground beside the couch. Quickly put it on, and with a motion of his hand, Leon summoned you to him.

You acted shy, meekly hiding behind Leon.

"Follow me, My lord," The servant hushed, trailing you two down the hallway.

As you tiptoed down the hall, you were barefoot and more exposed than you cared to be. It felt slightly embarrassing, but there was no point in caring now, was there? At least you found amusement in a shirtless Leon.

The servant guided Leon to a bathroom for himself. She signaled him in with her hand while her head was low.

Before he entered, he added, looking down at the servant. "And get her a new dress, she can't go out looking like that... And she wouldn't be caught dead wearing her evening dress during the day, would she?" Leon sounded like an absolute asshole, but that was somehow amusing.

"Yes, my lord," She bowed for the 100th time.

He entered the bathing room, closing the door behind him, and the servant showed you to another bathroom.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You bathed in a massive clawfoot tub, sweet floral soap washing off all the makeup and memories of last night.

You were not sure how to even feel about last night. You'd never slept with a coworker before; you barely sleep with anyone anymore. Is this going to make things awkward when you leave? Or are you to pretend nothing happened at all?

A servant knocked on the door, interrupting your silent pondering before letting herself in. She quietly hung a pretty cream-colored Victorian gown hanging behind the door.

"Madame, Lord Kennedy is speaking with the King. He has asked you to wait while they finish up. We prepared breakfast for you in the dining room in case they go long. When you're ready, the dining room is down the stairs and to the left."

Who are you kidding, there are more pressing issues ahead; you're bathing and being fed in a vampire cult's castle for God's sake.

"Thank you," you said sweetly.

The servant promptly left the bathroom with a bow.

Soon, you will eliminate these vile creatures and leave. You just have to tough it out a little longer. One more day of acting like a mild-tempered little plaything, and this will all be over.

part two coming soon xx

#thank you for reading <3 #i've been so nervous to post this eek #i hope you like it #academy fics✨#throne of his own #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy fanfic

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jyoongim · 2 months

Note

Okay before I put in my request lemme just get this off my chest. I love anything you do with Al (my man my man my man)!!! Like you eat every single time and if anyone says others wise they’re hating idc. Don’t ever don’t your craft I’m so serious! Much love🫶🏾

Now for my request could you do something with Alastor adjusting to his gf who’s from more modern times? I’d like to see that scary scrawny old man with a thick young lit bich. Both of them getting used to each others likes, habits, interests (he reads the paper while she scrolls on her phone, he hums old songs from his time when he’s getting ready for the day while she has or rnb playing on a speaker while she does her makeup, etc). Idk I like seeing opposites come together☺️

my man my man my man my man is right baby! Awwwwww thank you so much. Words cannot describe how this made me feel (giggling and blushing reading this) I LOVE YOU ❤️💕😘

Alastor didn’t know what attracted him to you. The two of you were complete opposites. From completely different eras.

Your attitude, style, language, hobbies all of it was so different from his time.

But he adored you nonetheless.

You used to think he was so old-fashioned. Not liking modern tech, reading the paper, cooking home cooked meals instead of takeout. Often confused when he spoke in riddles than actually being direct.

But the two of you made a cute pair.

For instance:

You were sitting at your vanity, makeup sprawled everywhere as your hiphop playlist played. You were recording a video or ‘going live’ as you put it. Alastor found himself liking the music you played as he got ready.

”who’s the old man?” He heard you say, a laugh bubbling from you as you broke out in giggles. He turned his head to see you give a sly smile in his direction before turning back to your camera.

”oh that fossil?” you chirped, giggling at the comments flooding your feed.

Another comment must have caught your attention because you snorted.

Alastor never understood your need to be on social media. To entertain others that weren’t him, but he let you be.

He was curious. What had you giggling so much?

You smiled as he appeared behind you, large lanky frame entering the camera frame. He wasn’t glitching.

”Dearest what’s got you so ticketed?”he asked, peering over your shoulder to look at the little words appear on your screen.

’why is an old man in the room with you?’

’HE BAGGED A BADDIE LIKE YOU? NO WAY!’

’definitely a sugar daddy’

’why you with that old man?’

He tilted his head, where they referring to him? His lip curled as he read the comments, looking at you for some context.

You giggled,wrapping an arm around his neck to rub his cheek against yours lovingly.

”yes yes this is MY man. Alastor tell everyone ‘hello’ ” he growled instead,giving your glossy lips a peck before walking back to finish getting ready.

You giggled, continuing to put your makeup on as you sang along to your music, eyes reading the comments on Alastor.

”I put this WAP on him y’all hahaha but no You know i looooove the way he treats me. Absolute princess treatment” you laughed. Alastor adjusted his bow tie on final time before turning his attention back to you

You had finished your makeup, standing up you showed your outfit of the day and made silly faces.

You leaned over your chair to read a comment

”He must be dicking you down real goodt” you read out loud and before you could respond your phone glitched out, ending your live.

You pouted, turning to Alastor “Al!”

He wrapped his lanky arms around your plush form, “such lewd comments” he said admiring your makeup.

Sometimes you catch yourself humming the songs he played as he cooked. You were NOT a cooker, so watching Alastor helped you figure out what went with what for when you actually attempted to cook.

”baby what’s that?” You asked as he pulled out multiple seasonings. He explained each seasoning, what the flavor did in different recipes and how to properly blend them so they weren’t so hard but a subtle taste.

You weren’t too keen on his cannibalistic ways, but you loved to watch his process.

Angel and Husk often made snide comments about how you must be rubbing off on the old demon.

“He did not use that slang right toots, what are you teaching him?”

You would shrug it off, thinking it was cute Alastor was picking up on your modern language.

Most days when the hotel wasn’t on fire, you and Alastor sat in bliss; him reading the newspaper as you asked him his opinion on random posts you saw as you scrolled on your phone.

Alastor loved to take you to lounges, not disgusting clubs you were so privy to. He thought you need to be exposed to ‘real music and dancing’. He would drag you to the dancefloor, pulling you in for a waltz or whatever old timey dance from his time.

While he didn’t mind the lustful sensation of your body rolling against his, he loved watching you trying to learn steps to old dances.

The way you flushed with embarrassment as you stepped on his toes as you tried to follow always made him laugh.

Alastor was not a fan of your attitude. You were sassy and always spoke your mind, not caring that he often spoke empty threats at you. You never cowered at him and always had to get the last word in. It really ticked him off, but it also made his chest swirl with lust when you never backed down from him.

Your arguments often led to the two of you fucking it out.

Him degrading you as you hiss insults at him, but purring as he pounded your pussy into the mattress.

The two of you were like puzzle pieces. You fit together perfectly, even if the picture looked odd.

The two of you wouldn’t have it any other way

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel

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sapchat · 6 months

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We Are Not Our Fathers, But I Am Yours

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Back by quite literal popular demand: It’s been a few months since you and Az have taken Hawthorne in, and now he has questions about what you guys are to him.

Warnings: I say bastard once. We talk about Azriel's lovely father and the rest of his family. oo I mention that Elain and Lucien had a weird relationship, but just saying "whatever they got going on"

Words: 2.8k

Part One

You're Reading Part Two!!(2)

“How is it, being a mother?” Feyre asked while watching Hawthorne play with little Nyx. The six-year-old, whilst bigger than the one-and-a-half-year-old, still knew to be gentle enough to play.

“It’s… nice, I mean I know I’m not his actual mother. But it’s weird, in the last couple of months I feel like I’d do anything to protect him, I mean honestly, I’d probably sacrifice Az to protect him.” I say, giving a chuckle towards the end.

“I know, Rhys and I said the same thing with Nyx. I mean you remember how Rhys was while I was pregnant, but the minute that little boy got here. It was game over for us both.” Feyre said smiling at the little boys.

We sat drinking our tea a little more watching them play in Elain’s garden before she turned to me again.

“I know that you guys are unofficially planning on moving to Windhaven once he’s eight, so he can be trained. Me and Rhys want you guys in his mother’s house. I know you will be back and forth but instead of getting your guys’ own place, just use it.”

I look at Feyre tears in my eyes from what she and Rhys are offering, then grab her hand, “Thank you guys, I’ll be sure to tell Az when we get home.”

“How is the spymaster doing with this… adjustment?” The High Lady asked a small glint in her eye.

I’d taken to the adjustment quite quickly, as I had already been playing caregiver before we had decided. Azriel was adjusting a little slower. I couldn’t tell if it was due to the lack of parental figures in his younger years, or because of how quickly it went from me and him, to me him and a child.

“He’s,” a quick pause, “Adjusting. It’s been slow, and he’s more awkward than usual. Hawthorne pretty quickly accepted that I was essentially a mother to him. But with Az, I don’t know. Hawthorne had a father who protected him for five years, and then we showed up and told him he wouldn’t see him again. He still calls him Azriel, or Azzie, or a variation of that. And whilst he hasn’t called me his mother it’s like it’s on the tip of his tongue.” I tell her honestly.

I mean we never truly expected him to see us as his parents, but it’s still weird having a child call you by name. Nothing with aunt or uncle in front of it or anything either.

“I think it’ll be okay. Hawthorne knows you both love him, and you both care for him and protect him. You get that and Azriel gets that. He couldn’t have two better parents.” Feyre tells me reassuringly. It seemed like she was going to add something else but then Hawthrone ran over, Nyx stumbling after him.

“Can we have cake now Aunty Feyre?” Hawthorne asked looking from his spot at her knees batty his dark eyelashes.

The child really could pass for our child if it came down to it. The same Illyrian features, hazel eyes, dark almost black hair, and golden skin. There have been times when we walked down the street after collecting him from the Velaris school that people had stopped and awed at how cute of a family we were. How our son was so cute and a carbon copy of his father.

Taking the smiles, they receive as thanks; they don’t notice how tense we become. How I glance at my mate, and he just glances down, some distant look in his eye that I can’t describe.

“That’s not up to me,” Feyre says nodding her head in my direction. The little boy looked at me, eyes gleaming in hope.

“Come on little shadow, let’s see if Aunt Elain and the twins have lunch for us,” I say standing and straightening my pantsuit out. I took his hand and waited for Feyre to pick up the little prince and we went into the Townhouse.

Nuala, Cerridwen, and Elain greeted us, pouring some tea into glasses, and watered-down juice into small cups for the boys. Hawthorne ran excitedly to the three in the kitchenette, and looked into Elain’s brown eyes, “You have snacks?”

Elain smiled down at the boy, smiling down at the little Illyrian. “We do have snacks. But I don’t know if you get to have any.” She said, joy glinting in her eyes at pestering the little boy.

Hawthorne looked stunned at her for a second, as if he couldn’t believe he was being denied something, and quickly turned to me, “Aunt Elain’s being mean!”

We all laughed as the little boy pouted in disbelief, even more so when he saw us all laughing. His foot stomped the ground, his wings flaring a little.

The laughing calmed a little as Rhys, Cass, and Az entered the house. They stood in the doorway watching all of us standing around looking at a little grumpy Illyrian.

The child looked at the three males and ran over to Azriel slamming into his legs. He placed a hand lightly on his back and looked around in question. “They’re being mean to me Azzie!”

At that Rhys let out a laugh, Cassian joining in. My mate looked at me in question, “Is there a reason I have a grumpy child hiding in my legs?”

“He’s just trying to get snacks for our lunch. Which he wouldn’t expect that unless someone kept letting him sneak some.” I told him, lightly glaring in his direction, but sent love down the bond nonetheless.

Azriel picked the boy up, his wings fluttering away as he did. “She’s right, you have to eat your lunch before sweets.” Hawthorne looked at Azriel in shock.

“But you and Uncle Cassin always give snacks like that before dinner!” Everyone turned to look at the two in question, a little glimmer of amusement shining through.

Feyre looked to me with humor all over her face, “Well, now we know why he hardly eats his lunch and dinner now.”

It was later in the evening; you were trying to give the boy a quick little bath. He was mainly just splashing around. Azriel watched with amusement as you tried to run a cloth over him.

“You could help you know. I mean how did Rhys’ mother give all of you baths.” I say huffing wiping sweaty hair from my face. You were going to need a bath after this.

Azriel had a small smile on his usual blank face, “She usually gave up after the first five minutes. I’m surprised you’ve tried this for as long as you have.”

Having the child around has made him more emotionally viewable. Where he used to only show how he felt, few and far between, now it’s more common. Sitting on your heels you let an exhausted sigh leave.

“You know little thorn in my side,” You say pinching his nose, he laughs in response, “I’m just going to sit over here and when you deem yourself clean let me know.” The dark-haired boy nodded and went back to playing immediately.

You walked over and sat by Az, leaning your head against him. “Who knew raising a little Illyrian was such work.”

Azriel leaned his head down letting out a huff of a laugh. “Imagine more than one in a house.” And you did, just for a second. But it wasn’t Rhys, Cassian, or Azriel you were picturing. It was Hawthorne and a few others. Some that did look like Azriel and one that looked like you. You pictured it long enough that you must have somehow sent what you were thinking down the bond. Because Azriel sent nothing but joy and love back.

“Let’s get this one situated first,” Azriel whispered, arm wrapping around you. You smiled up at him, excitement glistening in your eyes.

By the time you sent Azriel to put the kid to bed, you stayed back to clean up the mess in the bathroom. By the time you got to the boys’ room, you could hear them talking.

“Why don’t I have ears like her?” It was Hawthorne asking the question, and it made you pause in confusion.

“Because she’s what is called High-Fae, and you’re an Illyrian. Like me.” There was shuffling, Azriel must have been tucking him in.

“So… does that mean she can’t be my mom?” It was a quiet question, and silence followed after it.

“What makes you say that little shadow?”

“Well, if I’m like you, and she’s not like us. Then she can’t be my mom, right? Like Nyx. Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys both have pointy ears, just like Nyx.”

“You don’t have to look like someone for them to be family. Just like me and your uncles don’t look alike, they’re still my brothers. Just like she can still be your mom. Now, it’s time for you to get to bed.” You smiled, and quickly wiped your face before entering the room.

“What are we still doing up little soldier?” You walked over to him and took Az’s spot on the bed. Hawthrone smiled at you, peeking out from under the covers.

You tucked him in just a little tighter, leaned over and gave him a kiss on the head then brushed his hair from his face.

You sat for a second, looking at your little joy, then whispered goodnight, and just when you went to shut the door you heard it. “Goodnight mama.”

Holding back your tears just a little, you turned back and said, “Goodnight little shadow.” Then shut the door. And turned to Azriel's chest to shed some of the tears.

“Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s get you cleaned up and then to bed.”

You had picked Hawthrone up from school a few days later when he asked you a question.

“You and Azriel are together, right?” It surprised you; it was an odd question for a six-year-old. “Like… Like Aunty Feyre and Uncle Rhys?”

“Yes. Just like them, me and Azriel are mates. You remember what mates are right?” I said holding his hand as we walked down the sidewalk by the Sidra. You and Azriel had talked to him about a few things before you guys could get him in a school. So, he could know who his family would be, and about some of the world.

He nodded his head, he knew the story of me and Azriel, at least as kid friendly as you could get with Az’s job. I mean you yourself were only a healer at the school before meeting the Inner Circle. Then Madja recruited you to help with what few kids came through her shop. After about three years you were Madja’s right-hand man, thus introducing you to the Inner Circle for all their bumps and bruises. So Hawthrone knew you two were mates, like Feyre and Rhysand, and Nesta and Cassian. Whilst Elain and Lucien’s dynamic still confused him a little.

“So, if you’re my mother, does that make Az my father?” You almost stumbled at the question. Azriel had struggled in the first few weeks of having Hawthrone, he didn’t have good parental figures, so trying to play dad to a kid was a struggle.

With Nyx he had no issue, he could play uncle, be there for a few hours but at the end of the day Nyx went back to his own parents.

“Do you want Azriel to be your father?” I asked a little hesitant, I didn’t want to cause any issue for Az, or Hawthorne. It hadn’t been that long ago that you guys got him out of a bad situation in an Illyrian camp. From his own father.

“I don’t know. I know he likes me now. Before it was… strange,”

“Confusing, you’re looking for the word confusing.”

“Cun-fushion.”

“Well, if you’re really confused then you could ask him. He always tells you that you can tell him anything. The same goes for asking questions. That’s called communicating.” Hawthorne sounded the word out to himself, then sat for a minute in thought. Right as you were about to ask him a question he perked up, wings twitching.

“Oo oo oo can we stop and get sweets!” You’ve got to pick a different path to walk along.

“We’re home-!”

“We got sweets!!”

“We got sweets! Hawthorne those were supposed to be a surprise.” Setting the box of treats down on the table of the River House you followed the tiny stuttering of feet flying through the house in the direction of the rest of the voices.

You found some of the family in the sitting room and joined Azriel on the arm of his chair. Hawthorne was already telling Elain about his very eventful day at school, using his arms to explain it better.

I leaned over just slightly so Az could hear me, “He was asking some questions on the walk here.”

Azriel turned and looked at me, a look of almost fear in his eyes. Then furrowed his eyebrows in question.

“Nothing serious was just asking if we were together, a few other things I’ll tell you alone.”

“He asked if we were together?” I laughed a little then ran a hand through his hair looking at my boy.

“Yea, I thought the same thing. Asked if it was the same way as Rhys and Feyre.”

“Was it serious? What he asked, which is why you don’t want to tell me here.” There’s that wariness that Azriel always had regarding us.

“Just… something I figured we could talk to him about later, about parentage.” Azriel is all but locked up at that. Hands that had been clasped together moved to hide almost, shadows coming to drape over him a little. One moved to join Hawthorne and wrapping around him. “Just the basics, but it could be time to tell him something though, before we all go to Windhaven.”

Azriel nodded his head, distress flowing down the bond, I sent reassurance back.

By the time dinner was done, the sweets were eaten, and everyone went off to their respective houses. You met Hawthorne and Azriel in his room with some cocoa. Whipp cream and cinnamon on top.

“Wanna know how I got these marks on my hands?” Hawthorne glanced down at Azriel’s hand, then to his face, an indescribable look on his little face. Then he slightly nodded.

“I was born to a lord in a camp. My mother wasn’t with him though, remember how you had called me a bastard when we first met?” Hawthorne nodded guiltily, “It’s okay, that’s what it’s called when your mother and father have a kid without being together. My father’s wife didn’t like it, didn’t like me.” Azriel took a deep breath, and I handed him a cup, so he had something to fidget with.

“They had two other sons, older that didn’t like. Since they didn’t like me, they kept me locked away in… my bedroom,” the safest option rather than a ‘dungeon’ “One day, my brothers decided to test how well we could heal…. By the time my father’s guards got there, it was too late, and the fire did this.”

“Did your father do anything to stop them from being mean to you…?” Hawthorne silently asked Azriel, looking at his hands and then back to his face.

“No. My father was a really bad man. Really mean too. Kept me away from people and from flying, but when they found out I could talk with the shadows, they took me to the camp we’ll go to when you’re older. And I met your Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cassian, and Aunt Mor.” Azriel told him, Hawthorne glanced in my direction now.

“Was my father like yours was?” Hawthorne asked me, Azriel eyes widened a little, I opened my mouth to answer and reassure him but Azriel beat me to hit.

“No! You are nothing like your father. Understood?” Hawthorne nodded, “Just like I’m not my father.”

Hawthorne sat for a second, even more silent than usual when pondering a question.

“Are… are you, my father? Like she’s my Mother?” A silent tear dripped down your mate's face, almost matching the ones building in your own.

“I am nothing like either of our fathers. And whilst I might not be the one who created you, your father, I can be your father. If you’ll allow me to.” Hawthorne’s eyes watered up then flung himself into Azriels’ arms, wings trying to wrap around him. Azriel hugged back and wrapped his own wings around him, as you sat taking in the scene.

He stood from his hugging position and took your hand, and the three of you went just two doors down to your own room. Where the three of you slept, you on the left, Azriel on the right, and just under Azriel’s wing and under your arms was Hawthorne. The little dark-haired, hazel-eyed Illyrian slept soundly, between his two parents.

Like it, tell me how you feel, share it with your friends. Share it with your grandma. Share it with the weird guy that lives at the end of the street who knows way too much about the K.G.B

Side note if you made it this far please dear god tell me what you would get the IC for solstice/Christmas presents. I have ideas for them all but Rhys. Please it can be on anom or anything 😂

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jgracie · 21 days

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HOW YOU GET THE CURL

masterlist | rules

❝ idk if you’d do percy but with curly blonde hair (like pjo series ver perce) but if you do, i’d love a fic where he teaches y/n how to maintain curly hair (she doesn’t have curly hair) cause he loves the idea of her taking care of him ❞ — anon

in which percy teaches you how to take care of curly hair

pairing percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings none

on the radio . . . romeo & juliet (peter mcpoland), san fransisco (be sure to wear some flowers in your hair) (scott mckenzie), sunflower, vol 6 (harry styles), slow dancing (aly & aj), our house (crosby, stills, nash & young)

an can someone pls tell me the titles sooo smart and funny 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

“Honey, I’m home!” As soon as you heard Percy yell those words from your front door, you left the comfort of the couch and ran into his arms. He immediately put his bags down and picked you up, twirling you around before peppering kisses all over your face.

Life in New Rome couldn’t be any better. After the two of you got into the same university, your parents bought you an apartment to share so you wouldn’t have to be separated in university dorms, knowing all too well how you were attached at the hip. You had cried at the gesture, and Percy held you in his arms as he, too, held back tears.

A wide grin on his face, he asked, “how’s my favourite girl?” As he unpacked everything he’d bought that day, you gave him a rundown of your day. It was pretty mundane - some reading, some studying - but he listened as if you were describing the plot to a sci-fi movie. Your eyes quickly took in everything laid out on the counter, mostly groceries, and landed on one bottle.

You picked it up and read the label while Percy explained what it was, happy you were amused, “that’s a new curl cream. The one I’ve been using’s a little too heavy for my hair, always weighing my curls down. I think I’m gonna try it today, do you wanna do the honours?”

“Honours of what?” You asked, confused. You didn’t have curly hair, so you didn’t know much about the effort that went into taking care of it, just that it required a lot of different products and was incredibly laborious, according to Percy. His curls were really cute though, so in your opinion, the labour was worth it.

Making his way over to you and wrapping his arms around you, Percy batted his eyelashes, “of trying it on me. I’ve been thinking, babe, you need to know how to do curly hair for when we have kids! Curly hair genes run strong in my family, so I wouldn’t be surprised if our kids inherit them.”

You felt your face heat up as you thought about having kids with Percy, then smiled fondly when you realised what he was doing. Percy’s always been incredibly shy about wanting to be cared for. No matter how many times you’d tell him you didn’t mind giving him a massage or going over his maths homework, he’d always try to conceal his true intentions with some other lame excuse, like now.

“Okay! Let’s go do it now,” you said, dragging him over to your bathroom. You grabbed a stool for him to sit on and stood between him and the bath, hand-held shower head in hand (I hope this setup makes sense LOL). Making sure the water was the perfect temperature, you began rinsing his hair, careful to make sure no water dripped down his body. While you did so, Percy told you about his day. You always loved his knack for storytelling, your boyfriend never failed to find a way to make anything sound interesting.

Next, you squirted some of his shampoo on your hand and began lathering it in his hair. You felt Percy relax and smiled, glad he was content, “it’s okay to want to be taken care of, Perce. I’ll do it gladly,” you mumbled absentmindedly, to which he simply hummed. As you conditioned his hair, he began to doze off, which made you reconsider using the cream. You didn’t trust yourself to use it without his guidance, but didn’t want to wake him up.

In the end, you decided on disrupting his sleep, since you knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night if he slept now, “how do I do this?”

Percy took your hand and squirted some of the cream into your open palm, “rub it into both hands, then scrunch it into my hair.” You did as you were told, your hands light as too little was better than too much, in case you did something wrong.

When Percy looked into the mirror, he turned to you and smiled, “hey, you’re a natural! You should do this all the time” He asked, his eyes bleary. You would do this a million times if it made him this happy every single one of them.

After the cream came the gel, which was a lot easier since it was the same scrunching motion as before. You were a little apprehensive when Percy told you to put it in, since you didn’t think crunchy curls were the outcome. However, it all made sense during the final stage: the hair oil.

“This, my love, is what stops them from being all crunchy. Just lightly pass it over my hair,” Percy explained, pouring the tiniest amount of oil into your palm. You recognised the scent - it smelled like home, like him.

You finished and admired your work. Percy was right, you were pretty good at taking care of curly hair. After running his fingers through his hair a couple times to loosen the curls up the way he liked, Percy gave you a hug, kissing your head thousands of times and saying a muffled, “thank you,” into your hair.

Nothing was more blissful than this. Well, until you smelt something burning.

Pulling away from you, Percy asked, “did you make something?” You wracked your brain for an answer then gasped, remembering what it was. Running to the kitchen with Percy behind you, you quickly pulled the cookies you were baking - once blue, now black - out of the oven.

“I wanted to surprise you with these!” You said, disappointed.

Fighting the urge to cough, Percy picked one up and bit into it, grimacing for a second before smiling and holding a thumbs up, “it’s really unique, I’ve never tasted anything like these. You definitely did surprise me!” He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice Rolling your eyes, you discarded the cookies and replied, “oh, shut up, Perce”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson drabble #cynwrites

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

Note

hey beautiful, could i request a sub neteyam x reader (wifey) with an exhibition, spitting in mouth and degradation kink.

context: neteyam is oblivious to flirting from other females. so, reader decides to make it a point to show everyone neteyam's is theirs.

love love love your work. thanks for providing the neteyam spice that we all need 🤌🥰

Hide and Peek

a lil sumn sumn for y'all before bed

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (20) x Omatikaya Reader Y/N (19) Warnings: NSFW, degradation kink, spitting in mouth, exhibition, oral sex, foot stuff, knotting, sub neteyam

Word Count: 3.5k Authors note: My first ever request. This is a softer version of exhibition, etc. as public things are sort of a trigger me, so I hope this is okay, anon! :) lowkey got into it at the end, though.

Intro:

It’s been a few weeks since you and the Sully family have sought uturu in the Metkayina village, Awa’atlu. At first, the people were wary of all of you, thinking that providing you guys with a sanctuary would bring danger upon their people. However, after pulling your weight and adapting well to their way of life, they’ve become accepting of you and the Sully family. You and Neteyam have been so focused on adapting that your intimacy has taken quite a hit, to the point where the Metkayina people think you’re apart of the family, rather than Neteyam’s mate.

----

You sit in the sand next to Kiri, soaking up the warm rays of the sun that beats on your bodies.

“I could definitely get used to this. It’s not too bad here.” You say, digging your toes further into the sand. Kiri giggles, and shakes her head. “Nothing will compare to home. But I will admit that here is nice. Look around us, Eywa keeps on giving.” She takes a deep breath, savoring the scent of the ocean. You close your eyes and dip your head back, listening to the waves crash into the shore. It’s so serene that you feel like you’re going to fall asleep any second, when you hear three voices behind you. “Yeah. That Neteyam boy is cute. I’m glad he’s unmated... because I would mate with him.” Alira says, smiling to herself.

You look at Kiri, and scoff. “Forget what I said.” “Yeah? Well, I’d do way more than just mate with him.” Maru smirks. “Me too. I’d spit in his mouth and dominate the fuck out of him.” Vineya laughs, looking down at her feet.

Maru looks at Vineya. “Okay that’s a bit far… I’d probably just call him a few dirty names and put him in his place. He looks like he wants to be tamed.” She giggles.

“Well, I’d take his knot happily. It must be huge… he’s so tall and muscular. I just want to eat him up.” Alira mumbles to herself. “Definitely. I’d eat him alright. Probably have him eat me too.” Vineya moans softly, getting excited. “Maybe we can all share him then.” Maru suggests. “Shit. He’s coming, shush!” The words coming out of their mouths set a fire deep in your chest. Jealous isn’t a good enough word to describe the burning sensation inside your chest. You’re so livid that you feel like getting up and putting them in their place for talking about your mate like an object. He is not unmated. He is your mate, and he has been since he became a man. Kiri rests a hand on your thigh, as if to say, ‘don’t listen to them’. Her touch brings you back to reality. You shake your head, trying to get their words out your head.

Neteyam walks over to you guys, braids swaying side to side, and calls for you. “Kiri. Y/n.”

He glances at Kiri, and then at you, looking you up and down whilst smiling. He’s happy to see you. Likewise. You both stand up to greet him. “Brother. Coming to disturb us I see.” Kiri rolls her eyes. “Hey, you.” You walk towards him, returning the smile. “Just coming to check up on you two.” Neteyam says, resting a hand on your lower back. “Yeah. We all know who you’re actually here to check up on.” Kiri shakes her head, turning around to go sit back down in the sand. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.”

Neteyam laughs. “I cannot say she is wrong. I have been missing you. Dad has me watching Lo’ak, sorry I have been away so often.” He leans into you, moving his hand to your waist.

The simple touch feels so good; it’s been too long. You see the group of girls watching you guys intently. They talk among themselves, trying to encourage each other to come over and make a move.

You lean into your mate, and tippy toe, brushing your lips against his ear ever so slightly. He holds onto your waist a little tighter, providing you with some support, as he tilts his head down.

“Eclipse. Our spot. I miss you more, by the way.” You whisper in his ear, although it was more of a moan, and drop back to the flat of your feet. He turns to you, brows raised, and a grin plastered on his face. He stares at your lips - his way of saying ‘understood, my mate’. The girls make their way over and Neteyam loosens his grip around your waist to acknowledge the oncoming company. Neteyam was raised to be a gentleman, so he greets and speaks kindly to all people, even the ones with an ulterior motive. Typically, this means he’s oblivious to all flirting outside of yours – he couldn’t quite understand why someone would flirt with a mated man. He greets them with a smile, like a gentleman, which sends the wrong message. Strike one. Their approach is aggressive, causing you to take a step back as they surround your mate. You see red, the heat now radiating from your chest to the rest of your body. Did they not just see you touch your mate? Whisper in his ear? Him grab you by the waist? What more do they need, you to fuck him in front of them? Not a bad idea, y/n. You smile to yourself, and then at them. “Hey…” he looks at each one of them up and down as they circle him. Strike two. “Hey, mighty warrior” Vineya speaks, brushing her hand over his bicep. “You are a warrior, yes? You have the body of one” Neteyam laughs with her awkwardly, “Yes... I am”. “Hi. Do all Omatikaya people have braids?” Alira asks, twirling her finger around one of his braids, completely ignoring Kiri’s hairstyle. Neteyam is taken aback by the physicality, but puts it off to curiosity. “Not all of us, no.” He examines the girl intently. Strike three. “My name is Maru, hi.” She looks at his tail, stroking it from base to tip. “Your tail is so different... aren’t you slower in the water?” she asks. He chuckles uncomfortably and steps back, inching his way back to you. “Uh, somewhat. I am getting the hang of it, though.” He smiles at them and turns around to face you. “Y/n. I must go, dad is expecting me soon.” He smiles at you, tucking a braid behind your ear. “Kiri, I’ll see you later.” He waves at her, and then the group of girls. “Bye Neteyam! Hope to see you again soon!” The girls say in unison. Kiri rolls her eyes for a second time. “No respect.” She grabs your hand and pulls you towards your Marui pod.

To her surprise, you smile at her with a twitching eye, and say "Give me a minute.” You approach the girls who are gushing over your mate, once again. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, girls. I’m y/n.” you greet them. “Neteyam… he’s quite the catch, isn’t he?” They all greet you, looking you up and down. “He is. Any way that you could set us up?” They laugh again. “Yeah. Definitely.” You shrug your shoulder, smiling with them. “Y/n!” Kiri whisper calls for you, with confusion plastered all over her face. You move your hand discreetly to your back and shoo her away. “Sorry for my sister, she’s ready to go home.” You smile. “Anyways, as I was saying. There is a spot that I know about that Neteyam likes to go for some ‘alone time’. No one else is really allowed to follow him there, but I could show you guys.” You lean into their circle and whisper, “but you have to keep hidden, and quiet – very quiet.” They all quiet down and huddle into you, as if they were being told a secret. “Okay. We will be” They whisper, grinning with excitement. You pull back. “Good. Meet me here right before the eclipse, and I’ll show you where it is.” You smile, taking some strides backwards. “See you girls later.” You take Kiri’s arm and walk away quickly. “What are you thinking?” Kiri interrogates you. “I’m going to teach them a lesson. A lesson that’s obviously needed.” You say, dropping your mask and showing her your true feelings. “And how exactly are you going to do that?” Kiri asks, rolling her eyes for a third time. “You don’t want to know the details. Trust me.” You fume, breathing heavily.

----

When you get to the shore, you see the three girls huddled together talking amongst each other. The sky is getting dim as the eclipse is fast approaching. You walk over to them. “Hey girls.” You nudge your head in the direction of the rocky coast. “Follow me” You call for your ilu.

They come willingly, excited to spy on Neteyam. You all bond with your ilus and make your way over to the secluded spot, a small open cave, nestled in a sea of rocks by the mangroves. When you all arrive, you see Neteyam waiting patiently for his mate, his bioluminescence glowing in the darkness. Seeing your mate took your breath away, as it did for everyone else, too. You were ready to take him and make him yours all over again. You all hide behind the curves of the mangroves, peaking through the cracks of the roots. They’re mesmerized by this glowing body, as he starts to remove his hunting knife from his hip. He fiddles with his loincloth, repositioning it before he makes his way into the water. Spying on your mate like this arouses you, your already wet loincloth becomes wetter from your slick. You fall back, and swim quietly away from the girls, making your way towards a hidden hole in the mangroves that lead to the small open cave. You swim low and slow, keeping hidden until the very last moment, where you see your mate walking into the water. You slowly emerge out of the water, just as he’s crotch deep. In your direct line of sight is his cock, imprinting out of his wet loincloth. Brushing your face against his bulge, you stand slowly looking deep in his eyes. You make your way to the shallow end of the cave, backing him up against the rocky wall.

“Hey, mighty warrior.” You run your hand up his arm and squeeze his bicep. “You are a warrior, yes?” you lean into his chest, and kiss his muscular breast. “You have the body of one.”

He looks down at you with a smirk on his face, knowing exactly what you’re doing. He responds with his line, “Yes... I am.” He pulls you in closer by your waist, leaning in to kiss you. You cup his bulge suddenly, making him jolt instead. “Need help removing this?” You smile, brushing your lips against his.

“I missed you, my mate.” He moans into your mouth, moving his hands up your back.

You glance to the surprised eyes that peer through the cracks of the mangroves and smirk. “I missed you more, my love.” You look back at him and meet your lips with his.

He kisses you hungrily, allowing his hands to explore your body, running his hand along your queue. You melt into his feverish touches, rubbing his bulge eagerly.

“I want to try something new today. You trust me, yes?” you whisper into his mouth.

“I trust you, always.” He smiles, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Good.” You twirl one of his braids around your finger, then tuck it behind his ear.

You move your hand to the base of his queue, and run it along it’s length, holding the end and bringing it between you two. You both watch his tendrils dance excitedly, while he brings your queue forward. He puts your queue against his, and both your tendrils intertwine, connecting together. The feeling is exhilarating, causing both your eyes to dilate as you sync with one another.

The girls watching feel like they're invading a deeply intimate moment between mates – because they are. They’re taken aback, whispering to each other that they didn’t know you were his mate and that they thought you were merely his sister, or some sort of family pet. As much as they want to leave, they can’t. You see them linger longer, watching the show intently.

Being watched like this gives you an adrenaline rush, bringing feelings of extreme excitement to your body, transferring it to Neteyams.

“Why so excited?” he asks, watching you kiss your way down his body.

“Just excited to see you, babe.” Your sloppy, wet kisses reach his belly, where you play with the dips of his abs with your tongue.

His breath becomes raggedly, and his cock hardens even more.

“You’re making me rock-hard, y/n.” he says through a clenched jaw, feeling good from your kisses.

You untie the knot of his loincloth, unleashing his raging cock. You could practically hear the girls gasp at his length. You were going to give them the show of their lives. You rub your face against his cock, breathing in his musky scent. He stares down at you, with desire in his eyes. He wants you so badly, and you can feel it.

“I just want to eat you up.” you taunt, licking his cock from base to tip.

Eat me up? he thinks, confused.

“But, I prefer you eat me first.” You stand up quickly, moving him to switch positions with you.

You lean back against the wall, and rest your foot on a rock, opening your legs. “Get on your knees.” You demand him.

He looks at you, with an arched eyebrow and smiles, as if he can’t believe the words coming out your mouth. “What?”

You hear the faint giggles coming from the mangroves, as if they were saying that you couldn’t dominate your mate.

You untie your own loincloth and use it to blindfold your mate. “I said, kneel.” You say sternly.

He kneels immediately, obeying his mate’s command. His nose brushes against the soft flesh between your legs that lay open. He inhales deeply, savouring the sweet scent of your cunt.

You grab a fist full of his braids and shove his face into your pussy. “Now, eat.”

Being blindfolded, he has to rely solely on his other senses. His hands explore your thighs, while his tongue licks the flesh between your thighs, tasting the different flavours your body has to offer. Once he starts tasting the sweetness of your nectar, he laps up your juices hungrily. His nose is buried in your cunt, rubbing against your sensitive pearl, while he drinks the juices that flow out of you.

“Good boy. Fuck” you moan, rubbing your cunt against his face while gripping his head.

He’s drunk off your scent, gulping the slick that fills his mouth the more he eats you out. The water splashes against his back as he kneels and sucks on your clit, making your legs shake. You look down and see him, blind folded, making out with your cunt and it sends you over the edge.

“Ugh, f-fuck. You look like my little fuck toy sucking on my clit like that.” you purr, caressing his cheek. “Does this little toy want my cum?” you tease, feeling your climax approaching.

Yes. Fuck. He begs you.

All he can do is let throaty moans vibrate through his nose into your cunt, which brings you even closer to your peak. His breath is heavy, panting hot air into your pussy while he’s gripping your thighs as you thrust into his face, desperate to cum inside his mouth.

You dip your head back, feeling ecstasy from your mate lapping up your pussy juices, and peak at the girls watching you about to cum in his mouth. You give them a smile, and they look away in embarrassment.

“Look at me.” You demand.

They look back at you, eyes wide, looking you up and down.

He shakes his head. I can’t see, y/n.

“Not you, baby boy.” You moan breathlessly, about to cum any second. The thought of them watching you face fuck their little crush makes you so, so turned on.

You can tell your mate is getting weary, as his movements are becoming more erratic, desperate for you to cum in his mouth.

“Yeah? Want me to cum inside your mouth that bad? Fuck.” You moan, shoving your pussy against his face.

The heat in your chest shoots down your spine, into your cunt, and out into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck! Cumming!” you shriek, grabbing his head and pushing it harder into your cunt.

You look down to see your mate gulping loudly, swallowing every drop of sweep nectar that drips out of your aching hole. You pull his face away from your cunt suddenly, letting him gasp for air. Strings of your cum that connect your pussy to his lips break as he sits back into the dip of his feet.

His shoulders move up and down from how hard he’s trying to catch his breath, making choking noises in the process. His hands rest on his thighs as he hangs his head, your cum still dripping down his mouth onto his chest. You’re panting too, trying to come down from your high.

“You did well, sweetheart.” You praise him.

Using a single finger under his chin to tilt his head upwards, he parts his lips, panting small, hot breaths.

“Open wider.” You command. He opens wider, tilting his head back even more, and you spit directly into his mouth. He whimpers, completely under your trance. “Swallow.”

He swallows your spit greedily, licking his bottom lip, corner to corner. Your foot presses against his bulging, throbbing cock, causing him to whine under your touch.

“Since you were such a good boy, I’ll make you feel good.” You take your mates cock between your toes, providing him with just enough friction.

The strings of precum dripping from his throbbing cockhead coat your toes in a thick slick, allowing him to thrust his hips freely.

“Work for it, my little cumslut.” He bucks his hips into your toes, moaning and whining loudly.

“Nghh... y/n. Why are you acting this way?” he asks through shaky breaths, working for his climax.

“It’s your punishment.” You state, like it was a fact.

“What did I do, baby? Mmnnh…” he whimpers, his head dipping back from being almost there.

“You don’t know?” you pull back your foot.

He thrusts against nothing into the air, still trying to chase his orgasm. “Fuck. Please, y/n.” he begs, extending his hand to touch himself.

You kick away his hand and crouch over, taking off his blind fold to reveal his watery, drunk eyes, willing to do anything to cum. “What did you think of those girls?”

“I don’t know, y/n.” he whines, “...they were friendly, I guess”

“No.” you straddle him. “They were flirting. With my mate.” You take the entirety of his pulsing, swollen cock inside your slippery cunt in one thrust, already feeling his knot emerging.

You both moan in unison, as you feel the heat of each other mix together. You look into each other’s eyes, forehead to forehead, panting from the feeling.

“That’s your problem. You think people are just being nice when really...” you lift your hips up, “...they want your huge, fucking cock.” You slam your hips against his.

His eyes squeeze shut as he dips his head back, feeling overstimulated by your walls that clench tightly around his girth. “I’m sorry, baby” he whimpers, resting his head into your bosom as he runs his fingers up and down your back.

“You better be, you little slut.” You whine on his knot while you breath into his ear, “make it up to me... and give me this fat knot of yours.”

Hearing these words drive him into a frenzy, fucking you erratically and moaning loudly. Just as you feel his cock heat up, trying to burrow it’s knot into your cunt, you grab his jaw and turn it towards the mangroves.

“Look at the audience while you cum inside your mate.” He looks through the cracks of the mangroves to see three, bulging, glowing pairs of blue eyes watching them.

He’s so deep into the thick, hazy fog that it turns him on even more to know that they’ve been watching him be dominated this entire time. He thrusts into you even harder, even deeper, showing them that you’re his. You lick his neck, holding his head in position while you ride out your oncoming orgasm, moaning in his ear.

“Knot me. Show them you’re mine.” You moan, feeling your cunt start to pulsate around his cock.

He’s panting, staring at the blue eyes that stare at back at him while he ruts into you relentlessly, listening to your loud moans in his ear.

“Oh – oh shit. F-fuck! Cumming. Cumming!” he lets out lengthy whines, driving his knot into your cunt, tying you two together.

You turn your head to the direction of their glowing eyes, and smile, planting wet kisses all over your mates face, as he gasps for air. “That’s a good boy. I hope you learnt your lesson. All of you.”

Photo creds: sberrymango (on insta)

#neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #neteyam imagine #avatar #avatar smut #avatar x you #avatar way of water #metkayina #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam fic #neteyam x y/n

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freelancearsonist · 3 months

Text

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise.

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin.

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong.

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded?

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows.

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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futuremrsreid · 1 year

Text

Watching (S.R)

Summary: Spencer sleeps over at y/n's place and hears something he isn't supposed to.

Content Warnings: 18+, SMUT, downright filthy smut, voyeurism, dubious consent, humiliation, basically reader is wanking and spencer watches without her knowing

Authors Note: I am obsessed with writing morally wrong fics, but I guess this isn't for everyone so please read the CW before you read!!!

“Perverted”, “Scandalous”, “Creepy”- Those were the words that I would have used to describe myself at this moment.

The night had started innocently enough. Y/n and I were having one of our monthly movie nights. We ordered pizza, watched a new release that we had been waiting for for months, and had some wine. Though, as it usually does with y/n, some wine turned into 2 bottles of the dark liquid. I wouldn’t have called myself drunk, but she insisted that I should not drive in that state. It wasn’t the first time I had slept over at her apartment, but this time, I wished that I had just gotten into my fucking car.

While I got ready for bed in the bathroom, y/n was preparing the couch for me since I always refused to take the bed. She still put up a fight every time, as if she didn’t do the same when she slept over at my place, and then pettishly prepared the couch. It was cute, just like every single thing about her was.

I sighed as I spit the toothpaste in the sink, thinking about how much it sucks to be in love with your best friend. Friends to Lovers…yeah, I wish. They make it look so easy on screen, but in reality, it just sucks. I contemplated telling her countless times, but the risk of losing her is too much. Even if she felt the same, relationships can end, people can fall out of love, and then you are left with nothing. I’d rather stick to yearning for the rest of my life.

When I left the bathroom, she was already waiting for me and we exchanged goodnights as we passed each other. Sleeping on the couch really didn’t sound so bad when the alternative was potentially losing her.

That didn’t mean that I didn’t lie awake thinking about what it would be like to sleep in the same bed as her and wake up next to her though. Most times I barely got any sleep, like tonight.

I tried falling asleep for 30 minutes before I gave up and turned the TV back on. I was barely able to hear the show that was running, but I hoped that concentrating on it would make me tired. It would have worked, but just as I was about to drift off to sleep, there was the faintest sound coming from y/n’s bedroom. It was so quiet that I wondered if I had just imagined it, but as I looked at the door, I saw that she didn’t close it properly, presumably by accident.

I closed my eyes again because people make noises in their sleep all the time, especially her, but a few seconds later, there was another noise. It sounded like a whimper, and this time I was sure that I had actually heard it. I contemplated what to do. Y/n had nightmares all the time, as should be expected in our line of work, but sometimes it was worse waking her up than just letting her sleep through it. Though thinking about the time when she scratched herself so hard that she woke up with blood under her fingernails, I got up anyway.

That was the first mistake I made that night.

I swear my thoughts were innocent when I went to push open the door, I just wanted to prevent her from hurting herself, so I was absolutely not prepared for the sight in front of me when the door fell open enough for me to look inside.

Y/n was lying on top of the bed, one hand in her panties and the other clutching the sheets. I froze. I know I should have just quietly closed the door and gone back to bed, but I didn’t.

That was the second mistake I made that night.

I kept my eyes on her, carefully memorizing everything I saw before me, storing it away in my endless memory. The way she arched her back while drawing slow circles over her clit, the way her shirt rose up because of that, and how the exposed skin of her legs and stomach looked in the faint moonlight that was streaming through her window.

The thing that got to me most though, was the look on her face. Her mouth was slightly agape, brows furrowed and her eyes clenched shut. It was absolutely mesmerizing, she was absolutely mesmerizing, and every detail of it was burned into my brain.

I knew how wrong it was, watching her like this in such a vulnerable moment, but I couldn’t look away. I was convinced the gods themselves were punishing me by putting such a sight in front of me and expecting me to walk away from it. It was utterly fucked up.

Another whimper left her, louder this time and she bit her lip, trying to keep herself quiet. God, she was trying not to wake me up but here I was, standing at her door and watching her.

Her underwear was pink, and even though it was almost dark in her room, I could still see the wet spot on it. I felt like I didn’t have any control over my body as my hand made its way to the bulge that was growing in my pajama pants, the pants she got me for my birthday. I remembered the look on her face as I unwrapped the fish print fabric, eyes full of excitement and the innocence that was always on her face. Well, most of the time anyway, because right now, there was no innocence in sight.

I was a sick man.

Her hand picked up the pace and I could hear the wet sounds it made. She sighed and threw her head back the same moment that my own hand found its way into my pants, thumb brushing over the precum-covered tip of my cock. I swallowed the groan that threatened to leave my throat when her other hand wandered to her breast, squeezing it, while I was stroking myself as fast as I could without making any sound.

It was then that I noticed the thing that would forever exile me from heaven and condemn me to a life in hell because while she lay there pleasuring herself, she was wearing my shirt, the shirt I had worn yesterday night in the cheap hotel room we were sharing. I had searched the whole room for it this morning, she helped me look.

I had to bite my lip to prevent a moan from escaping. Not only did she steal my shirt, but she also lied to me and was now wearing it while she fucked herself. The thought of my sweet and innocent best friend doing such a filthy thing almost pushed me over the edge, but like the sick masochistic pervert that I was, I gripped the base of my cock to keep me from cumming so soon. I wanted to watch her fall apart first, knowing if my orgasm finished washing over me first I would feel so guilty and sick I’d probably run to the bathroom to throw up and miss the best part.

The faster her hand moved and the closer she got, the more her sounds increased in volume. It’s fascinating how being aroused shifts your perception of the world around you because I would bet that she didn’t realize how loud she was getting. It didn’t matter anyways because the person she tried to keep quiet for was standing in the dark watching her.

When a whine escaped her, and her thighs started trembling, I knew she was close, so I started to increase my pace. I wanted to come with her, watch her fall apart and use it to reach my own climax.

My hand moved frantically around my cock and when her face scrunched up in pleasure and her thighs closed around her hand, I imagined how they would feel clenching around me. It was that thought that finally pushed me over the edge and made me spill my cum into my underwear. I bit down on my tongue hard and continued stroking myself while coming down, the same way she did.

When her hand stilled and she huffed out a breath, I knew I had to move fast. As quietly as I could I closed the door the same way it was before I had entered earlier and rushed to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up as best as I could and decided that I preferred to sleep in cum covered underwear instead of no underwear at all.

I caught my breath and tried not to think about what I had just done, but when I opened the door to go back to bed, y/n stood in front of me.

“Hi”, she almost squeaked when she saw me. Looking at her face, warm and splotchy from her orgasm, I felt myself getting hard again. I cleared my throat.

“Hi yourself”, I replied, acting like the last 10 minutes didn’t actually happen.

“You’re still awake”, she said and I saw realization wash over her face. To go to the bathroom, you had to walk by her room, and she must have noticed that her door wasn’t closed when she got up. She stood in front of me frozen and I hate to admit how much the sight turned me on. She thought I heard her. God if she knew.

I tried to be a good person, to be a gentleman, and let it go. Let her go to the bathroom to clean herself up and never talk about it again, but I just couldn’t.

“Yeah, I, uh, I couldn’t sleep”, I started and tilted my head to fake a concerned look,” By the way, are you okay? I heard some noise coming from your room. Did you have a nightmare again?” I was a sick perverted man, but the horror that washed over her face at my words almost made me take her right there against the wall.

“Uh yes. Yes, I did, but I’m fine! I’m awake, the nightmare is over. I really need to pee though so… goodnight Spence. Sleep well.” And with that, she started to move around me. I could have just let her go but it was too easy, the opportunity too great not to take it.

“Hey, is that my shirt? I was looking for it all morning.” She almost tripped when the words left my mouth.

“Oh, this was the shirt you lost? I thought it was mine, my bad. You’ll uh, get it back washed and folded just the way you like it. Goodnight!”, y/n rushed out and quickly closed the bathroom door and locked herself inside it.

It was quiet for a moment and then I could hear the faintest “fuck” from behind the door.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid reader #reider #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff

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whiskersz · 2 months

Note

Husk/Angel/Reader, reader coming out as gender-fluid but is mostly masc aligned but has to put up with misgendering bc of liking fem fashion and how they support reader

Yay, poly relationship! I hope you enjoy the little fic and the format, decided to mix up hcs and ficlet :)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

When you come out as Genderfluid, both Angel and Husk are very supportive; you guys have been dating for a while at this point, and they were already aware of your struggles with gender, but they never minded one bit, just wishing for you to be happy and healthy, and to eventually find out what fits you best, whether that meant discovering a label you’re comfortable with or deciding not to label yourself at all.

Husk is, let’s say it, not the most well versed in these kind of things, but he does identify as Pansexual so he knows a thing or two about the community. He gathers his own information though, don’t worry, he doesn’t really need you to explain everything to him; unless it’s something deeply personal that only you can explain, in that case he’ll take you aside and ask you in the kindest and most non-judgemental way possible.

Angel is very excited for your discovery! He immediately asks if there’s anything he and Husk can do to make you feel more comfortable, maybe if there’s any pet names you prefer on some particular days or if you need to go shopping for new clothes that are gender affirming. Husk considers the latter a wonderful idea and offers to pay for anything that you might buy, if that is the case.

All in all, both of your boyfriends reveal to be your biggest support system within the Hotel, and probably in the entirety of Hell.

So it’s only natural that, when you three encounter a form of misgendering for the first time, they’re very protective of you over it;

It’s not often that you venture out of the Hotel with both of your partners, but today you three decided to go shopping for a couple new garments; your outfit could be described as fairly neutral, you’ve settled on wearing the most comfortable things in your closet to make it easier for you in case you’ll need to change and try anything on.

The chitter-chatter between Angel and Husk fills your ears and filters out the various cursing and screaming that’s, as usual, coming from every corner of the street – you’re used to it though, this is Hell after all.

You reach your destination fairly quickly, a small shop in an alley situated not much far away from the Hotel; Husk keeps the door open for both you and Angel, holding his pouch tight as it contains the money he’s brought with him in case you decide to buy anything.

The shop is cute, walls wine colored with white rose patterns scattered across them; you comment on it before an employee makes their way towards your little group:

“Welcome, what do you need?” she asks, voice flat, her tail swaying in an almost irritated manner.

You pay no mind to it and answer her question:

“Uhm, I’d like to look at the dresses section please.”

“Sure, follow me.” She gestures at you three before leading you to a different room a bit in the back, which is surely brimming with dresses of any kind.

You glance at the ones more on the chic side, already daydreaming about all the dates you could wear them on; Angel wiggles his eyebrows and nudges you when your eyes are caught by a black mini dress worn by a mannequin.

On the right side are the cuter dresses, the ones that are mostly meant to be worn during summer. They’re pretty, but most of them are of a color that you don’t particularly enjoy.

Right in front of you are exposed a couple of more dapper ones, you notice Husk eyeing those himself and you already know he’s imagining you wearing them, which makes your heart beat slightly faster.

“I’ll be nearby miss, if you need further assistance.”

And with that, the employee leaves. But oh, she used a word that she shouldn’t have.

Before leaving the Hotel, while having a light breakfast with your boyfriends, you had told them about how you specifically wished to be called masculine terms today and that you prayed nobody was going to misgender you. So it’s only natural that Husk’s ears shot up and Angel immediately turned towards her once they realized too.

“Leave it guys, she doesn’t know.” You stopped them before they could say something overly mean.

“Nothin’ wrong with correcting people, sweetheart.” Husk argued;

“Right! Hey toots-“ Angel calls her over once more, explaining the misunderstanding and communicating to her your preferred terms today since she is going to be helping and working with you for a while. He does so with such authority that she profoundly apologizes by the end of it, which is rare for anybody in Hell.

“Stand up for yourself when we’re not around too, alright?” Husk reminds you once the exchange between Angel and the employee is over.

“The old man’s right,” Angel teases, “We don’t want you feeling uncomfortable. But am I glad you didn’t have to interact with that woman because man, she was an ass at first!”

You shush him rather quickly, scared she might still be in hearing distance. Husk doesn’t help you at all, way too busy nodding at Angel’s statement.

Once they make sure one last time that everything is alright, you guys resume looking for the perfect dress.

Husk guides you towards the cheapest but still classy options, lots of dark shades and perhaps even accessories, while Angel proposes various things that are the complete opposite of that.

You know very well that they’re just suggesting though, and you can calmly look for a dress that you like while they check the options they enjoy the most.

You end up finding one that’s of your liking with the help of the employee, who this times seems to be acting in a way nicer manner than earlier; it’s in your favorite color, perfect for any occasion just like you like it, and both your boyfriends thrillingly approve!

At the end of your little shopping spree – Angel ended up finding something for himself, too – you’re mostly glad that your boyfriends were there to make the whole experience a little less uncomfortable than it would’ve been had you gone alone.

You’re also delighted to see that both of them are ready to stand up for you in any situation, no matter how insignificant you might think of it as.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader x angel dust #husk x angel dust #x reader #genderfluid reader #masc aligned reader #poly relationship

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deansapplepie · 7 months

Text

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 2

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Anything that Reminds you of Me

Summary: In this chapter Y/N Grimes gets back something that she lost, discover some secrets and conflicts Shane.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, mentions of death, violence, Shane is an ass, Merle being Merle.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s sister)

Word Count: 3716

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love.

After that day you grew closer to Daryl, it was easy to be with him, you could stay a long moment silently and it would not feel awkward. Also, it was cute to watch his interactions with Luna. He started to interact more with her and sometimes even took her for a walk. But now, you needed to also deal with a super protective Shane that out of nowhere thought you were a little girl.

“Be careful. He’s not the right man for you.” You rolled your eyes at him, he always said the same damn thing and you were getting tired of it.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want the right one? Maybe I just want the wrong one?” You were tired, you would always tell he was just your friend, that you knew how to defend yourself, but he always came with the same judgmental words about Daryl and about you.

“Y/N…” That was it, you had enough.

“Shane, I’m no damsel in distress, and… you’re not Rick, okay?” You chose your words carefully almost saying ‘you’re not my brother’, but you considered him your brother, right? You tried change your words to not hurt him, but what you said… he understood what you said, he was not Rick which means he’s not your big bro to boss you.

“Fine.” He answered teeth greeted.

“Fine.” You throw back at him, leaving your side of camp followed by Luna.

A group was getting ready to do a run to get more food and any other thing that could be useful. You weren’t going this time, so you approached Glenn to give him a list of things you needed. He was the one with more experience on the runs, so he was the best person to have the list.

“Just that?” He asked looking at your very small list.

“Yeah, I don’t need much.” You scratched Luna’s ears while she got a lick from Glenn’s hand.

“Nothing special? A candy? Maybe some cookies?” He suggested, you never asked those kind of things to him, but he would always bring something to you. He was like that cute baby brother that everyone wanted to have.

“If you see anything that reminds you of me, you can bring it.” You simply answered, everything was almost ready for them to go. So you decided not to get on their way. “Be careful, ok?”

You left them finishing getting things done and went to the other side of the camp where a certain archer was also preparing his things to go hunting.

“Good morning” you said as you got close to him, Luna already attacking him with her tongue and paws.

“Morning”, he answered while petting the happy dog. “Luna, stop” he tried commanding the german shepherd when she wouldn’t let him finish what he was doing. “Stop” he said again.

Then she stopped looking at him, puppy eyes, tongue out and the tail going side to side. “Good girl” he scratched her ears. You smiled looking at both of them, they were too much cute to not smile at.

“Can I go hunting with you?” You finally talked.

“It’s better not, I’m planning on bringing something big this time and ya make much noise walking, no offense” he was not wrong, but you could use leaving the quarry for a while.

“Alright, do you want Luna to go with you?” You asked, you’d prefer Luna stayed with you, but you knew he also needed some company.

“Nah, I’m ok. She sometimes doesn’t obey me, I don’t wanna risk anything happening to her.” You sat on a beach chair that was close where he was preparing to head out, Luna on your feet.

“When you come back, you’ll teach me how to shoot the crossbow, right?” You had asked him the other day and he said he could help you, but then you never had the opportunity.

“Yeah, I’ll…” he stopped mid sentence watching Merle approach, he was going on the run, so why was him coming back?

“Want anything special lil bro?” He asked, then looked between you and Daryl with a smirk on his face. “Maybe, some condoms?” He knew he would get Daryl pissed, most of the time he would say this things just so he could see Daryl’s reaction.

“Shut the fuck up Merle!” His face burned and he was trying to hide his blushed cheeks. Your cheeks were also blushing and you had nowhere to hide.

“Don’t you have to go on that run Dixon?” He laughed and tried to pet Luna, but she barked to him making him jump.

“It’s okay love birds, I’ll leave you alone.” He said returning to the group that was almost going.

“Don’t mind him.” Daryl tried to apologize, he felt like he was always apologizing or making excuses for his brother.

“Don’t worry, it’s just Merle being himself, there’s not much you can do.” You stayed there with him until he was ready to leave to the woods, you wished him good luck and told him to take care. He gave you a little grunt that you interpreted as ‘thank you, take care too’.

The rest of the day was uneventful. You helped around camp, took care of the kids and also rested a little. It was getting late but nobody had came back from the run yet. You were starting to become worried.

“Any sign of them?” You asked Dale who was at his usual spot near the RV.

“No, not yet.” He answered and looked with his binoculars again.

“What if something bad happened?” Amy asked worried, Andrea, her sister, had gone with them and she was not used to go on these runs.

“I’m sure they are fine, maybe they run into some trouble, but they have T.Dog and Merle, they are strong. They’ll be fine.” You tried tranquilizing the younger woman.

Not longer after this conversation you heard a big noise, just like a car alarm. Down the road a red sports car came in a high speed and the noise of the alarm became higher and higher. Soon the car stopped in the entrance of the quarry and it was Glenn inside. Shane ran to stop the noise of the alarm and soon after a truck stopped behind the beautiful car. ‘They freaking stole a truck’, you thought admired. ‘What could possibly have happened?’

You saw T.Dog, Morales and Andrea coming from the truck. Amy was helping Andrea to walk, something had gone really wrong. Where was Merle? Suddenly you heard a commotion, you thought you heard Carl yelling the word ‘dad’ and it couldn’t be it. What were the chances? Luna ran from your side in the direction of the group and you had to follow her. “Luna, stop! You can’t go running like that!” You yelled at the dog, only stopping when she jumped on Lori, Carl and… Rick.

“Rick?” You didn’t even know if anyone could listen to you, you felt as if you were in one of those dreams where you want to talk, scream and you just can’t, but that wasn’t a dream. Rick was there in his uniform, hugging his family, tears in his eyes and he heard you, if it was another sad dream he’d have ignored you like in every other that you had. But he got up from where he was hugging Lori and Carl, and he walked in your direction, you ran the short distance between you, and threw your arms around him.

“It’s really you” tears were already coming from your eyes.

“It’s me, I’m here now.” He was alive and his heart was beating, he kissed the top of your head and you hugged him tightly.

“I thought you were dead, I- I should have gone and saw it for myself. I’m sorry, you were left alone… I’m so sorry.” Many feelings came to your mind at this moment, Shane told you he was dead, but he wasn’t. You were happy about having your brother back, but now you were infinitely angry at Shane.

“It’s ok, you couldn’t know. None of us are going to separate again, I promise.” After you departed from his embrace, you looked at Shane and for second he was scared. He knew you were mad, and he knew he had screwed everything. Your look meant many things and he was scared of what he could lose if you ever opened your mouth.

You were informed that they let Merle cuffed to a rooftop.

“Damn, I know he’s an asshole, but it’s not going to go well when Daryl get to hear about it. I’m not telling him, you guys tell, I’ll just be around in case he gets out of control.” You said. Fuck. You knew they probably had a good reason for that, but Daryl was his brother and he would get very upset about it. Actually, upset doesn’t really represent how he would be. And you couldn’t blame him, you were a young sibling too and if it was Rick… you’d be angry too. In fact, at this moment you were still mad about Rick being left in the hospital to die.

“What will you do? Are you gonna kiss the calm into him?” Shane mocked you up, good everything you needed.

“Fuck you Shane!” You showed him your middle finger and left, if it was any other time, it would become a playful moment between both of you. But right now, you couldn’t. There was too much on your mind.

You closed into yourself for a while, trying to calm yourself down and organize your thoughts, but it was almost impossible. You wanted to thank Glenn, for bringing your brother back to you, but with everything that happened you didn’t get the chance to thank him. When you told him to bring something that reminded of you, you were not expecting him to bring your brother that you thought was dead. You were so glad at Glenn for it, he could have ignored Rick and let him to die, but he helped him.

“We’re organizing to go get him by the morning” Rick sat by your side, concern in his eyes. “I know we shouldn’t have left him there, but things got out of control and T.Dog lost the key.” You know he was being honest, and you were happy they were going back to rescue him.

“Daryl is probably coming back tomorrow morning, maybe he’s able to go with you. I think he’d like to.” You felt Rick tense, you knew your brother, it was just like you could feel his energy. Shane already opened his mouth.

“This Daryl Dixon, what’s going on between you two?” There was the question you were waiting he would drop.

“Nothing, he’s my friend. I have no idea what Shane told you, but he’s an ass. He judges people without knowing them. Daryl is a good person and he was with me when I needed the most.” You gave him a brief explanation, omitting the part that you were crying over his cheating friend and wife, and telling it was because you missed him. Not completely a lie. “Trust me, he’ll probably hate you tomorrow, but you’ll get to know him and you’ll see who he really is.”

Rick tried to trust you, he knew you well and he also knew Shane’s temper, but he could not stop protecting you now that he was back.

The other day early in the morning Rick, Glenn and T.Dog already had a plan and were packing everything to rescue Merle and pick the guns Rick had lost. Everything was going just fine, till Daryl made his big entrance cursing a walker that ate the deer he was tracking.

‘Just good, he’s already moody. That helps a lot’, you thought. As soon as the news were told, Daryl jumped in Rick’s direction and you had to come between then.

“Hey! Hey! Daryl! Listen to me! Calm down.” You were in front of him, your back turned to Rick, hands up.

“Easy for ya to tell, yer brother is back from the dead while mine is handcuffed to a damn roof.” He looked at you and you could see anger, fear and despair in his eyes.

“I know. I have mine back and you need to rescue yours. They are going back to rescue him. Rick is really sorry, trust me.” You put your hands on his chest praying he would not flinch at your touch or take your hands away, but he didn’t move. “Now we can stay here, fighting each other while Merle is alone in that rooftop, or you can all work together and rescue him. I know right at this moment you wished Rick was dead, but I’d never wish it for Merle. Our brothers can do stupid things, but they don’t deserve to die.”

A long silence came and Daryl contemplated the possibilities, he trusted you, but he wanted to punch Rick’s face as much as he wanted to punch Shane for going around talking shit about his brother. He looked at you one last time and said “Fine. I’m going.”

After they went on the rescue mission the camp started to go back to normal. But it was not over to you, and you had something you needed to do. You walked large steps on Shane’s direction.

“Hey Shane!” You called, in the moment he turned to you, you were already close enough and in seconds your closed hand were making contact with his face.

“What the hell was that for? Because of your boyfriend?” He asked his hand touching the left side of his face.

“That was because of my brother, and you know why. All the reasons going on your mind right now, it’s because of them.” You know he understood, his angry face became a worried one in seconds.

“Y/N… I didn’t know. I swear, he was not breathing, his… his heart had stopped.” He tried to explain. Some people looked at you and other pretended to be minding their own businesses but you couldn’t care less.

“Well, then explain me this. Because I see two options, first you lied, or second we need to take Rick to the authorities immediately, because he’s the cure to all this shit.” You decided to go to the side of the camp where your tents were, you have had enough. The show was over.

“Aunt Y/N, why did you punch Shane?” Damn the kid saw it, Lori wasn’t going to like it.

“Shane said I needed to practice, so he asked me to practice on his face. Very dumb decision I’d say.” You gave the first excuse you could think to Carl, but then Lori came.

“You punched Shane?” She asked in low voice, everybody saw there was no secret about it.

“Yes, he deserved. You know he deserved, I was holding up since yesterday when Rick showed up.” You answered actually there was way more time that you wanted to this, but no way you were going to say Lori what you saw one and a half weeks ago.

She had nothing to say, she also was angry at Shane for making her think Rick was dead. Lori was angry at herself too, for getting involved with Shane, but now it was too late. After that you took some clothes and went to the lake to wash them with the other women, you also decided going at Daryl’s tent and took the clothes of him that you could find. After what happened that was the least you could do to him. You took Luna with you so she could play a little and experience the freedom. Most of the day was alright, the exception was the scene Ed cause ending with Shane punching the shit out of him, you hope he understood the message to not touch Carol again. Also, Jimmy had an insolation and were kind of having hallucinations forcing you to tie him to a tree.

Later that day, you were starting to get anxious about them not returning to the camp. You had just gotten your brother back and even though you knew he did the good thing going back to Atlanta, you were worried you’d lose him again. All of you were around the bonfire eating the delicious fish that Amy and Andrea had fished, you were not a fan of fish, but this was the apocalypse so you would eat whatever you needed to survive. Soon after Amy told she was going to use the bathroom and got up, you heard to her scream and from that moment everything went wrong on that night.

Zombies were attacking the camp, one had bitten Amy, but you didn’t had time to feel sorry for the younger girl that was so dear with everyone from the camp. Everyone got up and ran trying to pick something to defend against the dead. You always carried your gun and knife, so you took your knife and got ready to defend yourself and your family.

“Carl, Lori, Y/N, stay behind me, I’ll protect you.” Shane said, you just ignored him and started stabbing the dead on the head with your knife.

If you could fight, you would not stay behind any man hiding yourself. Rick and Shane didn’t teach you how to knock out a rapist so now you could hide away from the zombies, they were even easier to deal with than alive people. You started counting how many you killed, using it to concentrate and not let your mind wander, soon you had lost count of how many. While you killed your last one, another came on your direction falling on you making you go to the ground, the dead on top of you, you lost your knife, you put one arm between you and the neck of the zombie, trying to reach out for your gun, but before you could take it the dead fell to the side an arrow on his skull.

‘Thank God, they are back.’ You thought and when you looked Daryl was already in front of you offering his hand to pull yourself up.

“Thank you” you said trying to catch your breath from the tiring wrestle you had with the dead one.

“ ‘s nothing” He replied and then shoot another one from the spot you were. You looked around finding your knife on the ground not very far from where you were fighting for you life, but not so close that you could grab it at the time. You took your knife, but the camp was already under control.

The dead that were not lifeless on the ground were being killed by the others, so you allowed yourself to relax a little. You spotted Rick not very far with Lori and Carl, your eyes roamed through the quarry and you also saw T.Dog and Glenn, but where was Merle?

“Merle?” You threw the question at Daryl, but you couldn’t deny… you were afraid of his reaction and of his answer. He made a face and shook his head, you thought about the worst.

“Oh my god, Daryl… I’m sorry.” You said, but was almost cut off by him.

“He’s alive, the dumbass cut his own hand and scaped, we were hoping he was back to camp and worrying about what he’d do once he arrived here. He stoled our car.” Well, this was totally Merle, you were glad he was alive, but you couldn’t even imagine what would happen if he had came back to the camp.

“That’s what took you all so long to come back?” You wanted to say you were worried, not only about Rick, or Glenn that was your good friend or T.Dog, mostly about him, but you didn’t know how the words would sound to him, so you stopped yourself before you could say anything.

“That too, but we had other problems.” You were going to ask more about it, but just when you were going to open your mouth Rick came to you.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Rick asked holding your shoulders and scanning you over to see if you were hurt anywhere.

“I’m alright, despite what some people think I’m not useless and fragile.”

“That’s not what I meant, I was just worried” Rick took a deep breath and looked in your eyes. “I just got all of you back, I can’t lose you again.”

“I can’t lose you too, so stop doing stupid things.” You said and tugged his hat brim to cover his eyes playfully. When you looked to the side, you saw the archer in the distance, already close to his tent.

The night was turning into day and one new morning was starting, the camp was a mess. You had people to burry and walkers to burn. And to think that hallucinating Jimmy dug two graves the other day. You were so caught up in all the confusion that you forgot about Luna, and you didn’t see her anywhere. You started to call her name, until she came running to you from inside Dale’s RV. You were so relieved she was good and alive. You squatted and hugged her while she tried to lick your face. All the people you cared for were good and alive, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it, but you didn’t know what you would do now, the quarry didn’t seem to be safe anymore. The question was, where could you possibly go?

Final Note: Thanks for everyone reading, liking, reblogging and commenting, it’s really good to receive your feedback.

#the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #daryl #daryl x grimes!reader #rick grimes

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

Text

sharing snacks with thirteen & mephistopheles

content: sfw. gn!reader. fluff, developing relationships. solomon slander in thirteen's section. mephisto is a bit rude in his because it's him.

word count: 1.8k

THIRTEEN

It’s a typical day for you: sitting in the RAD cafeteria at lunch, nestled between two brothers who are bickering about a topic you have no real interest in.

You’re giving Beel your uneaten half-a-sandwich when you feel someone’s hand touch your shoulder gently.

“I have something unexpected to take care of in the human world,” Solomon says loud enough to hear him over the noise of Levi and Mammon arguing beside you. “Thirteen is expecting to see me in our next class together. Do you think you can let her know I won’t be able to make it?”

Solomon hardly asks you for favours, and you don’t mind the excuse to leave the rowdy demon brothers before you get caught in another food fight.

“Sure,” you say, returning his smile. You tuck away your leftover lunch - a bottle of water, an unopened bag of pretzels, and a double-chocolate muffin - into your school bag.

“I’ll bring you back a treat later,” he promises with a charming smile before strolling away. After he takes a few steps, he spins around suddenly and waves at you. “You’ll find her in the alchemy lab on the third floor!”

You want to make sure you aren’t late for class so it’s a brisk walk up the three flights of stone stairs that lead to the lab Solomon was referring to.

When you open the door and step into the corridor leading to the lab, it’s completely vacant.

You can hear Thirteen doing something so you approach the doorway quietly and peek your head inside.

Thirteen seems to be using some sort of levitation magic on herself, and she’s studying an elaborate set of wires and pulleys hanging above the doorway; there’s a small cage in her hands too, and inside is what can only be described as a bouncing ball of radioactive goo.

She glances down when she hears you and she cackles gleefully.

“Ah, careful there human - you don’t want this getting on your skin,” Thirteen warns you with a grin.

She’s tossing the cage up and down in her palm like it’s a toy, and you think you can hear the blob-creature in the cage growl menacingly each time she jostles it.

“Is that your—“ you pause, blinking when the blob gurgles unpleasantly and Thirteen hisses at it in response, “...pet?”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, you’re too cute! This isn’t a pet. It’s the Ooey-Gooey Sticky Wicket version 2.0 - fun-sized!”

She mumbles something under her breath about “that smug wizard and his stupid face” and it suddenly clicks for you why Solomon found an excuse not to come to class today.

“About that…” you trail off, watching her face grow thunderous when you explain that Solomon won’t be in his afternoon classes today.

She cancels the levitation spell she was using and lands on her feet with a heavy thud, pulling down the rest of her trap without care.

She opens a small bag and sets it on the floor. You watch in amazement when she turns around and picks up parts of her trap, throwing them over her shoulder and they seem to disappear into the bag without it changing size or shape.

“Of course he knew,” she mutters angrily, “that circus clown thinks he’s so clever,” she complains as she tosses more of her trap into the magical purse. “And he had the nerve to send you!”

You wince at the harsh tone she uses and she seems to realize her mistake. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” she says sheepishly, tossing the Ooey-Gooey-Whatsitcalled cage into her purse and zipping it shut. “I’d hate for you to get oozed by accident - humans are so delicate!” Her face twists into a frown. “Most of you are, anyway.”

She picks up the bag and slings it over her shoulder and you can’t help but ask, “Is that bag charmed? It’s like something from Mary Poppins.”

She tilts her head. “I don’t know what a ‘merry poppings’ is, but it’s a little invention of mine - handy for sorcerer trapping on the go!” She winks at you. “Like it? I can make you one.”

She walks past you, snapping the strap of your bag against your shoulder lightly as she skips down the hall towards the stairs.

You jog to catch up. “Isn’t this your next class?” you ask. You know lunch break is almost over and the bell’s going to ring any minute now.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, goody two-shoes, but I missed my lunch and if my trap is ruined, I might as well get something to eat first if I have nothing else to look forward to.” The pout in her voice is cute and you try not to smile.

You touch her arm to stop her, and her eyes widen when you rummage through your bag and offer her your muffin from earlier - you know she likes sweets and hope it cheers her up even a tiny bit.

She looks between you and the muffin before she smiles in a way that feels gentler and more genuine than her usual mischievous grins.

“The world would be a better place if more humans were like you,” she says before plopping a piece of the muffin top into her mouth.

MEPHISTOPHELES

When Mephisto approaches you for a favour after most of the other student council members left campus for the day, you know he must be desperate.

Despite your best attempts at staying out of his way and avoiding his ire, he still seems as unimpressed with you now as he did the first time you met him.

You’re not quite clear on the details, but apparently some mishap in the Newspaper Club office - something involving the Little Ds having a spat that led to an all-out brawl - means that the special edition of tomorrow’s newspaper has to be reprinted and finished.

There’s a special ceremony tomorrow and several distinguished invitees are going to be in attendance; the newspaper is supposed to be handed out to all students and guests to celebrate RAD’s recent achievements.

The face he makes when he realizes he has to ask you for help, lacking any other viable options, almost makes you want to refuse him out of spite - but you’ve been hard at work preparing for this too and it would be a waste to ruin it now.

Not to mention, what would Lucifer say if he found out something went wrong the day before this important event and you did nothing to help?

Mephisto escorts you to a temporary office space where he’s already set up a borrowed computer and printer.

You regret asking what happened to the ones in the Newspaper Club’s office; surely the damage wasn’t that bad, right?

“I don’t know how a food fight broke out, but they got Devil Sauce inside the Newspaper Club printer - INSIDE IT! How did they even–?” he continues ranting angrily about the Little Ds while you look over his current progress.

The newspapers are almost finished printing, so all that’s left is to fold them and insert them into envelopes.

You suggest the most obvious solution - “I’ll fold them if you want to take care of the envelopes?”

You asked giving him the choice of which task he would prefer, but instead he rolls his eyes, muttering “Obviously” under his breath when he sits down in front of the box of envelopes.

It’s boring and tedious work, but it’s not complicated - and you don’t mind doing this if it means helping RAD look its best in front of special guests.

Mephisto is quiet in his place across the table from you, and after the first few minutes working together he’s refrained from more pointed insults or sarcastic remarks about your intelligence, or your human heritage - or anything about you, really.

You haven’t eaten dinner yet - the hunger isn’t enough to bother you at this point - but you both startle when a rumble from your stomach breaks the silence.

Mephisto glances at the clock and raises an eyebrow at you like he’s surprised your body is capable of making such a racket - but when you expect him to insult you some more, he asks, “Have you not eaten anything?”

You shake your head and continue folding, explaining you would get something to eat once this was done.

It’s unclear what bothers him so much about your reply, but he stands up from his seat and leaves the office suddenly without a word.

You can’t even ask where he’s going with how quickly he left, and after gaping in surprise at the doorway he disappeared through, you brush it off and get back to work.

It’s nearly ten minutes later when you hear Mephisto return, and you don’t bother to look up from your folding.

You do look surprised when he puts a takeaway cup and paper bag on the table beside you, and you watch him sit down with a cup and bag of his own.

“What’s the matter?” he asks you defensively. “I thought you liked tea?”

“I do…” you say cautiously, wondering what’s going on. Is this a prank?

You must be looking at the cup like it's full of poison because he puffs up his chest in indignation. “Humans are so weak, I need you to be focused if we’re going to finish these at a respectable hour,” he says like it’s obvious, like there couldn’t be any other motivation to bring you a snack.

You take a sip from your tea cautiously - it’s a common Devildom blend, black and unsweetened. It’s not how you normally drink it, but it’s still warm and comforting.

After a few more sips, you peek into the paper bag. It looks like a Hellfire cheese sandwich, not too spicy, and you eat with quiet satisfaction.

Mephisto is eating his own food - the same thing he ordered for you by the looks of it - and he nearly chokes on his mouthful of food when you thank him.

He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at his mouth, but when he realizes your words are genuine - why wouldn’t they be? - he shrugs, saying that he’s only doing what he thinks Diavolo would want.

It’s not like he cares about your well-being, but the he knows the Prince does.

You finish your impromptu meal without anymore conversation, and it’s not long after that the job is complete and he’s shooing you from the office while he finishes up by himself.

He wants to ask you if you would like a ride home because he knows his chauffeur is waiting for him outside, but he doesn't.

He wants to ask what you take in your tea for future reference only, but he doesn’t.

All he offers is a stiff, “Thank you for your help” before he turns away from you and listens to you gather your belongings and leave, your footsteps fading into silence.