#her walking towards me in the cloud of smoke???

[kiwisbell]

helen ; chapter five

be seeing you

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the choice.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship, sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, tess cameo, childhood/religious trauma, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST, bamf miller bros, smut, fingering, joel is an emotional munch, shower sex, unprotected PIV, handjob, male whimpering, conflicting emotions, orgasms aplenty, Big Angst and Big Sad but also Big Epiphanies, ambiguous ending, i'm getting emotional writing these tags, it feels so final, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 9.3k a/n: hi, friends. i can't believe we're already at the end of the main story, and tbh if i think about it too much i'll probably cry. i want to thank @cavillscurls for beta reading this chapter as always and giving me the guidance and support i need. we'll have an epilogue after this chapter, so there's still more to look forward to, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy and thank you so so much for reading. xoxo prev | next

Her eyes are so sad, you think, stepping back to take in the full scope of the canvas. It’s doused in paint from corner to corner, still wet to the touch, the woman and her lover intertwined so thoroughly that it’s difficult to tell where they both end. It’s in shades of glum blue and flecks of angry red and brown where his eye watches you. But it’s her eyes that cannot lift to meet yours. It’s her lashes that fan across her cheeks as she casts her gaze toward the bottom edge where the canvas is wrapped taut around the wood. 

The sun will soon rise, but you haven’t slept. The contours of the sky are washed in a haze of greys and pale blues and light pink and the air smells warm, heavy—a storm about to roll in. The clouds on the horizon are thick with a blackening rage. You sit in the alcove by the window and put your temple to the cool glass. You yawn. Joel does not come back.

“Do you think it's true,” you asked him one night, your head on his chest, hand on his heart, “that art makes nothing happen?”

Joel, drawing shapes on your back, dozing off in the golden light of the sunrise, frowned. “Someone tell you that?”

“It's something my art teacher used to say,” you told him. “No matter how much it moves people, it doesn't do anything.”

“Your art teacher sounds like a fuckin’ downer.”

You laughed, hiking your thigh up over his hip and playfully biting his jaw. “So it's bullshit?”

“I think,” said Joel, tucking his chin to kiss the top of your head, “that your art makes people feel. It brings ‘em together. It's important because it's yours.”

You propped your head up on his chest and threaded your fingers through his too-long hair, overdue for a trim. A curl draped over his forehead, his beard patchy and soft under the pads of your fingers. “Sometimes I wonder why you chose me,” you said. “I wonder why the universe brought you to me.”

Joel shook his head, guiding his rough, callused fingers up your arm, curling them around your wrist, gently prodding your veins. “Wasn't the universe,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t a choice. I was yours the second I saw you. So, I guess it's your fault.”

You just rolled your eyes and kissed him, mouth to smiling mouth. 

Your paintings may be yours, made with life and energy and colour, but when they are finished, they don’t move. They are stagnant as a heavy rock beneath a cliffside, washed over and over again by the cresting waves, its salt stolen for the water, eternal damnation to a fate of non-movement. And sometimes an artist will walk under the cliff, shove their easel into the fleshy ground the way a man erects his country’s flag in the earth he has stolen, and paint the rock. The artist is moved by the breathtaking colours of the shore and the way the wind flutters through the grass. But the rock does not budge. It never will. 

Your art will never erupt from the boundaries of the canvas and tell you what it means. The lovers in your painting will not tear open their mouths like the seams holding a wound together. They will not tell you what they want, need, crave. They are you, and that is what you hate—because dimpled flesh and lustful fingers and the press of his mouth to her throat cannot tell you what you’re supposed to do. 

You had become complacent in his love for you. You had let him press his worn hands to your body and pull your soul out through his mouth and you had been a wife, while all the time there was a stranger who occupied his heart, a spirit in an abandoned body. All the time, he'd been haunted. And although you had loved him, your love had not been enough to exorcise the guilt and trauma, pecking at him, an eagle at his liver. 

Crossing the room and sitting back down in front of the easel, you press your fingers to the corner of the canvas. The paint is cool to the touch, and you leave behind fingerprints where your signature should be. Pulling your hand back, you examine the accumulation of colour, the blues and reds swirling into the deep purple of a bruise, the bodies on a canvas that may only ever mean something to you, and you wonder, Is this all I am? A cautionary tale, a love lost? A fucking footnote at the end of a clause that reads: “See, for example, the one who never loved deeply enough to make it count”?

You bring your hand to your face to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes and blink hard at the sting, realising you’ve smeared paint across your cheekbones. 

In the bathroom, you scrub furiously, the cloying scent of it clinging to your throat and your tear ducts, washing away the evidence of their entwined bodies, their love, your pain. 

Once, you tried to get Joel to paint. You sat behind him on your bench, your legs bracketing his hips, your paintbrush in his hand. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he said.

Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. “There’s no rulebook.”

He tried to turn his head and kiss you, but you nipped his ear in reproach. “Remember when you took me out driving at the airstrip because you wanted me to feel the road? Think of this like feeling the canvas. Go on, cowboy. Make nothing happen.”

Joel’s painting still hangs over your shared bed. The intruders never found it, or never cared enough to destroy it. It’s a candle, just a candle, its lines imprecise, the paint unevenly applied in places, the shine of the flame more orange than yellow. But it’s a painting, so the candle always burns. He titled it Love. 

The pain still sits low in your chest, pulling down your heart as if tied to it by a string. But Joel is still out there, fighting his way back to you, the way he always has, always will. You look down at your left hand, clutching the edge of the marble vanity, and decide to clean your wedding ring. 

“I’m sorry, brother,” says Tommy, turning the gun on Joel. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” growls Joel, struggling against his bonds. The clip rattles faintly in his brother’s hand as a tremor courses through him. 

“He’s following my orders,” says Cabrera, clapping his hand down on Tommy’s shoulder. “Fascinating what a man will do when he must consider his family’s well-being.”

Joel sucks on his teeth, his eyes not once leaving his brother. 

“It's my son,” Tommy says through his teeth. “It's Maria. If I don't do this—”

“Yeah? You gonna kill me, Tommy? Is that why your hand’s shakin’?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” his brother snaps. “You think I want to do this? I gotta save my family, Joel. You know what that's like.”

“All I’ve done for you,” says Joel, his hands curling into fists behind his back, “and you put a bullet in my head?”

“Not just your head, Joel,” says Cabrera. “When we're done with you, we’ll take your pretty girl as payment for my son’s life.”

Joel growls like a dog, blood roaring in his ears. “Kill me yourself, you goddamned coward. Kill me yourself and don’t you mention my wife again, or I swear to Christ—”

“You take His name in vain a lot for a nonbeliever,” says Cabrera, pulling his sleeves through his coat and setting his teeth as he looks toward Tommy once more. “Do it.”

“Yeah, brother,” Joel says darkly, “do it.”

Tommy nods once, planting his foot and pivoting. Five distinct sounds of handguns cocking echo throughout the warehouse as Tommy points the barrel between Manuel Cabrera’s eyes.

“Now that I’ve got a gun to your head,” he says evenly, “you can go ahead and pull that contract.”

Joel at last twists his wrists free of the ropes that bind them and shucks down the sleeves of his jacket to rub the raw skin. Not one soul does a goddamn thing to stop him as he rises to his feet. His chest heaves, his open lungs coarse and wet with a brittle rage, his exposed heart throbbing red, transparent as the stained glass windows of the church.

God does not tolerate anger, said the Sisters, again and again, bringing down the whip across his back. Sinew and bone and skin peeling back to lay bare some tender part of him they sought to rot out. Put your energy into His worship.

Slowly, Cabrera lifts his hands, sneering. “Your wife,” he warns, “and your unborn son—”

“Are family,” says Tommy. “Just like my brother. Now tell your guys to put down their guns and I won't kill you where you stand.”

Joel joins Tommy at his side. “Took you long enough,” he says under his breath. 

“Got held up,” he says. “Your wife’s a good artist.”

“Yeah, whatever. You bring me a gun?”

“I’m sure you can find one yourself.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I’m too old for this.” Joel turns to Cabrera and glares at the same stubborn arrogance that once gleamed in his son’s eye. “You pull the contract, and I’ll leave for good.”

Cabrera’s laugh weans out in the air like rings of smoke. “You think you can really leave, Joel? You think that there won't be consequences for what you've done to my son?”

“Yeah,” says Joel, “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“And you?” Cabrera’s lip curls up at Tommy, whose gun no longer wavers in his grasp. “I promised your wife and child security. You’re willing to throw that away?”

“My wife and child are safe because I don’t take deals from men like you,” says Tommy. “You trusted a Miller to turn on his own blood, Manuel. That was stupid. Now pull the contract.”

“So this is your great suicide mission.” Cabrera smiles, a man who knows he has lost or a man who still expects not to. “A man who has seen Hell does not willingly descend back into its depths—not unless he likes the taste.”

Joel feels the corner of his mouth twitch, a wound on his cheek reopening. “Maybe I do,” he says plainly. “Maybe it’ll taste even better when I take you down with me.”

The gleam in Cabrera’s eye shifts as his gaze flickers behind Tommy. Night has since descended, and yet the predator’s eye glints in anticipation of the hunt. Joel turns and shoves his brother out of the way—just as the shot rings out. 

He hears Tommy’s breath punch out of him as they both hit the concrete hard. Joel tears the handgun from his brother’s grasp and puts a bullet between each of the two men behind them. He rolls behind one of the hulking bodies and holds up his weight as a shield against the incoming bullets. Tommy takes the dead man’s gun and fires at the remaining three assailants. Only one shot misses, but Joel sends his brother a look anyway and finishes the job. 

“Rusty,” grunts Tommy, pushing himself to his feet. 

Joel grimaces as he accepts his brother’s outstretched hand, his wrists bleeding from the relentless rub of the ropes. “He ran,” he says, grinding his teeth. “Goddamn coward. Just like his son.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way,” says Tommy, giving Joel the dead man’s gun and snatching back his own. “Saved your ass.”

“And he got away.” Joel kicks his chair, and the clattering echo of metal reverberates like a choir off the cavernous walls. His hands flex, open, closed, open, closed, until they make tight fists and he can see nothing but red and the silver moon mocking him through the broken windows high above. 

“Joel…”

For a moment, he hears the young boy his brother once was, whispering across their shared bedroom to him in the middle of the night when they were both meant to be asleep. 

Joel… Are we going to be okay?

“I gotta finish it, Tommy,” he says quietly, his hands shaking loose. Parts of him bite and sting, touched by new and old wounds alike, and he wants to come crawling home to you. He wants to curl into your side and wash away the blood in your cleansing pool, daisy and honeysuckle, some faraway field where you are the warden, where he knocks on the door to be let in, to be gathered, covered in white, buried, unearthed. 

“Was he right?” asks Tommy. “Do you… enjoy this?”

Joel casts his eyes toward the ground, his trembling hand, the gleaming band on his ring finger, his skin speckled with blood but the metal pristine. “I don’t know,” he says. 

This is who you are, Cabrera would tell him. The Sisters: Your place is here, under God, under His word. And God Himself, silent as the air, the ringing in his ears only ever quieted by the soft brush of your knuckle across his cheek, the whisper of My Joel in his ear. 

“Think hard on it,” says Tommy, “because you may like it, but you’ve gotta consider if your revenge is worth more than what you’ve already got. And if you choose wrong, Joel, you’re gonna lose no matter what.”

A figure leans stone-still against the wall by the hotel room door, the gleam of a blade in the soft light the only indication that it is not a mere shadow. 

“Hey, kid,” says the apparition. 

Joel nods in greeting. “Tess. Could get in trouble with that knife out in the open.”

“You expect me to keep your girl safe with just my fists?”

“You make it sound like you couldn’t.” Tess snorts, and Joel places fifteen gold coins in her waiting palm. “I appreciate you doing this.”

Tess peels away from the wall. “You and your brother are paying me good money to babysit a door. I think I can live without the thanks.”

“Still,” he says, “you did us a solid.”

Tess, who itches at the prospect of gratitude as much as any other gun-for-hire, shrugs. “Everyone’s saying you’re coming back. That true?”

“Just visiting,” says Joel. “On my way out soon.”

Tess flips one of the coins and turns it over and over across her knuckles, evidence of a restless energy that’s always made Joel’s eye twitch. “One way or another, huh?” she says.

“One way or another.” He shakes her hand and watches her retreat down the hall, still twirling the godforsaken coin, before he turns toward the door. Joel presses his forehead briefly to the cool wood and turns the key to seek the field that awaits him.

A key rustles in the door and Joel steps through, closing it gently behind him. Judging by the quiet click of the lock, he expects you to be asleep, but you jolt upright from your seat in the alcove and cross the room toward him.

He meets you halfway, his right hand flexing at his side. You inspect him: the gash on his cheek, the bruise on his jaw, the blood splattered on his white shirt. He makes no footfalls as he walks but you can hear every stride like thunder between your ears. You feel his hand at the back of your neck, cool from the night air, rough as the underside of a shark’s belly.

The moment coils taut between you as your hand reaches up to grab the lapel of his jacket, and he smells of iron, cologne, Joel, some paint. Maybe that smell is you, stuck underneath your fingernails, embedded in your blood. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe you could never help but fall, maybe it never mattered anyway, and you’re already snipping the final thread, unwinding the spool, and kissing Joel Miller like it’s the first time. 

He let out a small groan, tasting the first drop of water in a drought, steadying you with his arm around your waist, his hand cradling your head. He’s gentle, exploratory, careful not to jostle, to shock you out of it. You feel his heartbeat thud, strong, calm, steady behind his clothing and skin and muscle, and your body caves.

It’s coming home, you realise, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers tousling the messy curls on his head. It's the warm press of his hand to your spine where it begins to curve inward. It's a soft mouth, a plush lower lip, made for slow mornings and black coffee, for the aching release of a thumb pressing deep into a muscle knot, a wound. Old aches soothed in the space where bodies meet, beginning to colour the slate-grey world. 

It’s the exchange of gasping breaths when you pull apart, his mouth still vaguely chasing yours, opposite charge. 

You hold him tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat, your hands squeezing his shoulders. "Are you…"

Joel inclines his head. "Yeah."

"Did he..."

"Yeah."

Need pulses. Supernova. Bright as the moment of obliteration. "Can you—"

He nods vigorously. "Yeah."

Joel’s kisses are like raindrops: velvet-soft to the touch—his hands bringing the hem of your shirt up over your head, his fingertips scorching, branding, grazing the supple swells of your breasts—before the crescendo roars in your ears and he loses himself to the storm. He always does. 

There is nothing reserved about the way he shows his love. Lightning crackles across your skin where he touches you, baring you to him, his lips making a map of you, mouthing at your jaw, your throat. You hear yourself hum at the press of his lips to the spot beneath your ear, detaching from your own body, absconding with the pleasure of being close to him and leaving the fucking world behind. 

Joel staggers forward so he can press you to the wall and begins to sink to his knees. Your breath catches as he pulls down your ratty bottoms, your cotton panties, his mouth burning into your hips and your belly and the ring on your finger. 

“Joel,” you say brokenly as he clutches your fingers. Tears prickle, pressure building behind your nose, and he shakes his head, unfurling your palm like a bud in bloom and kissing its heel. Wordlessly, you watch him, your eyes shuttering, blood singing. 

Don't hurt me again. 

He understands even though the words cannot come alive on your tongue. He squeezes your hips, his thumbs dumpling your flesh, his forehead falling to your belly. 

“I’m yours,” he says. “I’m whatever you want.”

Your legs haven't forgotten the way they part so easily for him, one thigh on his shoulder, opening the core of you to his waiting mouth. His lips part, his tongue wetting them, glistening, and your stomach tightens at the sight of his eyes so black. 

You could easily cower. His hands are stained with blood. His knuckles are split. But your terror has become an arid thing, no kindling to burn, no oil to ignite. Watching him now, as eager to please as he always has been or maybe more so, on his knees like a supplicant, the hairs on your arms do not rise in apprehension. Your body does not squirm in fear. You see a broad horizon, the sun outside spilling its golden blood over the city, and you see all of him in a way you never did before. 

He’s Joel, who grew up in darkness, lashed and beaten for not believing in a false god. He’s a man who has lied and killed and yet he is no liar, no killer. He holds you as he always has, your body liquid in his hands, your mouth proclaiming the word he will follow. You're the truth he's always told. 

It still unsettles you to see the dark eclipse that warm brown, to watch his desire consume the hypnotic shapes in his irises, and wonder if that cavernous black was the last thing so many men saw before he snuffed out their lives. But there's nothing of the death shudder in the way you guide your fingers through his hair and beg him—

“Please.”

He brings his mouth to your core and parts your folds with his thumbs, slowly gliding his warm, wet tongue through your slit. You die a hundred little deaths in the split-second of that first touch, that first agony.

You sigh, your head thudding against the wall as he licks through you, his hands holding your hips in place, keeping you from writhing. Joel flicks his tongue over the sensitive pearl of your clit, the pleasure searing, and you tug at his curls to push him away even as you cry out, More, please, please. God, I need more.

He obeys you as easily as breathing, though you suspect he can barely hear your pleas, opening his mouth and flattening his hot tongue to your clit. You gasp, your core pulling taut, your eyes locking with his as the muscle undulates over, over, and over again. 

“Oh,” you whimper, your hips bucking to meet his face. He groans, his mouth working your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking. You cry out, your leg kicking, the sounds of the world muffled in his stifling closeness. Your thighs begin to ache, tensing and relaxing a hundred times over in the throes of his attention. 

And his fingers are gliding across your hip, seeking the warmth between your legs. You gasp his name, your hips flexing, as he collects your wetness on two fingers. 

“Let me in, baby,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit. It relaxes you enough to welcome the press of his fingers inside you, sinking to the knuckle, curling up against the spot he would know in his sleep. 

You whine, your body keening toward him, tugging his face back toward your pussy. He obliges with a quiet moan, and you think he needs this just as badly. 

The obscene squelch of his fingers inside you rings in your ears as he licks and sucks at your clit, his free hand grabbing desperately at your ass to keep you fixed to him. You’re crying, “Yesyesyes, Joel, please—fuck, that's it,” the pleasure stuck in the grooves of your brain. Absentmindedly, you reach for his hand and clasp it tight, your engagement ring digging into his palm. He holds you with the same fervour as he coaxes you higher, his face buried in your pussy. He grunts and groans like it's his own pleasure he seeks, his battered knuckles stinging. 

“Joel… Joel, oh, I’m…”

He knows, of course, from the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his head, the relentless crushing of his fingers in your own, your body tightening for him, cavitating, unwinding—

You come with a shout, your throat raw, writhing in his grasp as he keeps sucking, keeps licking, rubbing, pressing. You're dizzy by the time your head lolls to the side, your muscles twitching, eyes glazed, and Joel is there, pulling his fingers out just to place them on his tongue and swallow you down. 

Your breath rattles through your lungs. Joel presses his lips to your inner thigh, beard soaked in your arousal, moustache glistening. His mouth soothes your sore muscles and your eyes begin to droop. 

“You need a shower,” you say, your tongue like lead in your mouth. You gently pass your thumb over a cut on his cheek and frown. “You're all bloody.”

He nuzzles his face against your thigh, inhaling you. “I know.”

“You were gone so long.” Your voice quivers, pressure prickling behind the bridge of your nose. “I thought…”

Joel rises to his feet, his hands cradling your face. “I’m all right,” he says. “I’m here, and I’m safe, and I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together so the sob will not escape. Tracing his face with your fingers, broken in places, healing in others, you see the echo of a boy who didn't know his place in the world. You see the haunt of days gone by. A ghost still occupies the cage of his ribs. 

“I think you should tell the little boy that still lives here,” you say, putting your hand on his chest. “Tell him he’s alive. Tell him that he made it.”

Joel lowers his head, watching the way your fingers splay over his heart. He puts his hand on yours and pushes, and you feel the strong thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. 

“He knows.”

You lean forward and put your mouth to his temple. “Shower, Joel,” comes your whisper in his ear. 

He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you into the bathroom. The water hits you both true, scalding, the drain circled with red. He’s naked, his back to you as he sets his hair and lets his wounds bleed what they need to. 

You lift your hands and trail them down his broad shoulders, your forehead dropping between his shoulder blades where your name is inked into his back. Joel’s muscles idly flex, his palm flat against the shower wall. His body shudders when you press your lips to the name on his back. 

Wordlessly, you bring your arms around him, caressing his side, careful of the new bruises. Your other hand drops to his steel-hard cock and you begin to slowly stroke him. The noise that wrenches free from his throat is half pleasure, half agony, his hips bucking into your fist. You bump your nose against his back, your years-old sign to Just relax, and Joel hides his face in his bicep as you work your hand over him.

“G—fuck,” he grunts. “Goddamn… honey, I—”

You squeeze him at the base and twist your hand up and down the length of him, the weight warm and heavy, your thumb coaxing out a bead of precum. Your cheek is warm on his back, your arm struggling to reach around the width of him, your chest humming at the sound of his gruff moans. 

“Let me…” He cuts himself off as you speed up your strokes, and you can feel his abdomen tense. “Fuck, let me make you feel good. Shit… let me…”

“Joel,” you say, “for once, stop trying to be my hero.”

His head falls back and you press your lips to his throat, nibbling the sensitive spot behind his ear: the old scar, that tiny circle, that hairless patch. He groans your name, and you’re smiling despite yourself, your mouth curling against his warm, tender skin. 

“Inside me,” you whisper, the pace of your fingers over his length slowing to a crawl. “Remind me how it feels.”

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his lashes dewy, blinking hard to flick away the water, brow furrowed. His moustache bristles as his lips part in a question he does not (or maybe cannot) articulate, and you’re fractured into pieces by the intricate curve of his nose, the freckles on his jaw, the silver strands in his beard. A rough hand cups the back of your neck and another takes you by the waist, and you’re flattened to the wall, your hand braced on the glass next to you as he kisses you deeply. 

Consuming, heady, warm—you give in, your hands avoiding the delicate skin of his wrists where he’s been bound, helpless. Sighing softly into his mouth, you let his kiss humble the part of you that still needs the walls you’ve built from the marrow of your anger. It circles the drain, lead-filled paint, as you remember under his hands how it feels to live.

You reach between your bodies, your leg wrapping around his waist, and slide the head of his cock through your weeping slit. Joel sucks in air through his teeth, the water lashing his back like a whip, and he surges forward, grasping you by the waist and sinking his cock into your tight hole. 

You cry out his name, burying your face in his throat and baring your teeth. Your name leaves his mouth in kind, an apparition, sounds you barely recognise anymore. As you take him inside you, the memory of who you were with him pounds at your ribcage, begging to be let out. And you covet them, selfish as you are now for fucking him this way, needy and impatient, your fingers tugging his wet locks. 

You see no point in scooping out the marrow; there is still sweetness stuck to the bones of your old life with him. Instead, you coat your teeth in this, the slow drag of his cock, the depths he reaches so easily, so knowingly. His fingers prod the bruised flesh of your hurt and yet you still guide him inside. You still pull his hair and kiss his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs and you still let him hold you close enough to splinter. 

He’s grabbing fistfuls of your ass and sucking on your throat, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to hold back, to make you come first, but you tighten, clenching down on him, making his groans pitch up into whines. 

“Joel,” you gasp, your needy fingers prickling his scalp where you pull his hair. His teeth graze your throat and you want him to bite, you want him to sink in deep, you want his jaws to latch onto your skin. You want him never to leave again. 

He comes hard. His hips buck, pushing so deep he disappears into your body, and you see the blues, browns, reds of your painting as he empties all he has left inside you. 

Panting, he drops his head to your breast, his open mouth still scattering weak, worn kisses over your skin. Your lungs expand under his palms, fingers stuck in the grooves between your ribs, his body an offshoot of yours, not the other way around. In the ringing afterlife of your pleasure, you vaguely feel him mouthing words you cannot hear. You run your fingers through his hair and enjoy the battering of the scorching water as it melts you both into one.

Later, in the sticky, humid silence of the bathroom, steam still swirling around your heads, fogging the glass, you trim Joel’s hair.

"Do you ever get scared?" you ask him, the shhhick of the scissors gliding across a chunk of his hair. "Do you ever go out on a job and think to yourself, What if I slip? What if this is it?"

Joel huffs. "It's not so much about myself as making sure the other guy goes down first."

“I think I’d be scared.” You twirl a lock of hair around your finger and let it fall over his forehead. “I don’t think I’d be able to look into someone’s eyes and take their life.”

He casts his eyes to his lap, flicking off some hair from his thigh. “One time, I thought it was over. I wasn’t quite seventeen yet, runnin’ drugs for some gangster. He sent me to El Sauzal to discreetly transport a couple kilos out of the city; someone had snitched and he didn’t want any rival gangs to find his stash. But the people there, they… They didn’t know any better. There were mothers, kids. Innocent people, y’know? Just strays. I decided I’d come back for ‘em.”

Your stomach twists. “What happened?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I was too late. By the time I got back, the whole goddamn city was on fire. The people were either dead in the streets or close to it. They didn’t do anythin’ wrong. They didn’t ask for any of it. But they were weaker, slower. I couldn’t walk ten feet without seein’ some kid wrapped up his mother’s arms, burned to a fucking crisp. So, I came back with weapons, marched into the gang’s territory, and I killed ‘em all.”

Days ago, you’d be afraid of the man whose back warms your belly where you stand just behind him. You would hesitate to reach out and put your hand on his shoulder the way you do now. But you curl your fingers over the muscled curve of his arm and his head falls back against you, spidering open, his gooey molten centre bared for you.

Joel. Just Joel. 

“Did you see the painting?” you ask him quietly. 

“I see everything you do,” he says. “It's beautiful, baby.”

You drop your gaze from his face in the mirror and set down the scissors on the vanity. “I can't pretend to understand what you've been through, Joel, and that makes things even harder. All I've ever wanted is to love you, to take your pain, and all this time there's been so much I never even knew about. And I’m sorry.”

Joel’s hand comes to cover yours, clasping your fingers. They’re warm, rough, but you do not sense the phantom blood. “If I’d told you from the beginning,” he says, “maybe I never would've hurt you in the first place. All those years I thought I was protecting you from myself, I was hurting you—the one thing I swore I would never fuckin’ do.”

“Joel…”

“Baby, don't apologise to me,” he says firmly, putting his lips to your knuckles. “Never apologise to me. And don't you let me off easy.”

“Have I ever?” you say with a halfhearted smile. 

“Yeah,” he says, “the day you let me marry you.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. Wedding planning was hell on earth for you.”

“Just because I didn't like the photographer—”

“You didn't not like the photographer, Joel. You wanted to draw and quarter the photographer.” 

He huffs like an angry dog, frowning at you in the mirror. “He kept puttin’ his goddamn hands on you.”

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the patch in his beard to indicate you're finished. “He was posing us, cowboy.”

Joel rises to his feet and closes the scissors away inside the drawer. “Posin’ you, sure.”

“He was afraid to touch you. Probably thought you’d take off his hand. And the pictures turned out great.”

“Yeah,” he says, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Way the sunlight caught in your hair, your eyes… I don't know. Beautiful.”

He was so shy the first time you kissed him. Cheeks flushed, eyes cast toward the ground, the wind ruffling his curls where it blew over the water. He was made in an artist’s image, you thought that night, the details pored over like paperwork, the sparkle in his eyes something the painter covets. But the portrait has never wilted in the years you've known him. It's grown older, sure, but it is not old. He's still shy sometimes; he still looks down when he smiles, and he still turns his cheek when you tell him he's beautiful. 

“Do you…” He rubs his palms over his thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “Do you wish you could go back?”

It's your turn to sit. You drop into his chair, your arms curling over the back of the seat, and watch him on his journey to his knees. “I don't know, Joel,” you tell him. “I think about that day and part of me wants the magic of it back. I want the breeze and the sun and the white canopy and I want you sliding this ring on my finger. But knowing what I know now…”

“You wouldn't have married me,” he says like it's the only answer. His eyes are wet and sad and they sparkle so bright in the day. 

“I wish I’d known,” you say plainly, bringing his hand to your cheek and resting it over the cool wedding band. “I wish you would have told me everything. I wish you didn't make me question your love, even for a second. I wish you could have spared me all this anger I have—all this pain.”

He’s stone-still, a figure in a portrait, and you brush your fingers across his cheek. “But killing isn't what you are, Joel. It’s what you do. And I’m so tired of being angry.”

You say it fiercely, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, your throat tightening. You swipe your thumbs under your eyes and meet your husband’s eye. “I love you more than my anger and my hurt have room for. And if I can love you this hard, if I can feel all this pain and still be that same girl who fell for the guy from the restaurant, then I can let myself get hurt all over again.”

Joel shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands as his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, baby…” 

“I know it's never been an easy marriage,” you say, your voice breaking, “and I’m always travelling, and I know that I can get snippy and we bicker, but I wouldn't go back to that day, Joel, because I wouldn't change anything. Even if I have to feel all of this again, I wouldn't take it all back.”

His inhale shudders through him and your heart lurches out of your chest. “I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching a tear that falls. “I’ve hurt you too much to ever be worthy of what you've given me, sweetheart. I ain't a good man, or even a decent one. But fuck, if I can be good for you, I’ll pray to whatever God they want me to. I’ll scrape my knees and put my hands together and fake it ‘til I’m someone you want. I swear it, baby.”

“Joel.” You gently pry his hands away. “The life you've lived, the things you've been through… I can't change any of it. I can't be what you need all the time, and fuck, I want to be. I do, Joel. But this life is something you have to figure out yourself. Nobody should force you to believe in something that's only ever caused you pain.”

He never told you about the tattoo; you had to find it yourself. Shucking the hem of his shirt up over his head, two weeks separating the last time you’d been able to indulge in his body, you trailed your fingers up his back and paused at the sound of him hissing through his teeth. 

“Easy, cowboy,” you cooed. “Are you all right?”

Wordlessly, he turned, taking your hand and lifting it to the reddish skin around the black ink. You gasped, your fingers jolting backward as if struck by a feeler of lightning. 

“Joel,” you said tremulously, “please don't tell me you were drunk and this was an impulse decision.”

“Guys in the Marines would get tattoos that meant somethin’ to them. Easier to carry around with you when you're away.” Joel met your gaze again, your tearful eyes, and brought your knuckles to his mouth. “Tell me you want it gone, and it's gone.”

You shook your head, a laugh snaking past the lump in your throat. “Selfishly, I think it’s very sexy.”

He chuckled, kissing the breath from your lungs. 

The memory is heavy in your stomach. It's something you'll have to roll around in your mouth a thousand times before the taste begins to dissolve. 

“I need time, Joel,” you tell him. “I need to wrap my head around things. I… I can't be the girl you want right now.”

Joel brushes his thumb over your chin. “You have always been the girl I want,” he says. “If you need time, you have it. If you need a warm body, you have it. I’m whoever you want me to be. And if it ain't a husband, then… then that's okay. But I can’t promise you that I won't stop tryin’ to get my wife back. That’s not who I am.”

You sniffle, twirling the ring on his finger. “You’ll get sick of it. The waiting.”

He smiles so softly that you can feel a bud begin to bloom in the core of you, nourished by the way he keeps his hand on your thigh, absently rubbing the sore muscles there.  “I waited my whole life for someone like you to come along—someone who could give me the purpose I’d been lookin’ for. I can wait another lifetime. I can wait a thousand.” 

“You’ll resent me. You’ll start to hate me.” You don't know why it comes pouring out of you, but the gates are brittle wood and they snapped in the torrent. “I’m an angry drunk. I smell like paint half the time. I travel for work.”

Joel just studies your face, some inexplicable calm etching out the agony. “You take your coffee with milk and sugar and you can't stand it black, but you make it that way for me anyway. You sleep until noon when you're jet lagged and I sit up in bed just to watch you dream. You lie in my arms on the couch at home and ask me about my day even when you're noddin’ off. You dreamed about love when you were a little girl, the way it happens in books. You told me in your wedding vows that you'd found it with me. You think I could resent a girl like that?”

He smiles like it hurts and heals all at once, like it's a foregone conclusion, like you were meant to be loved by him. 

“Time doesn't mean a goddamn thing. I know the girl I see in front of me now. Time won't change how much I love her.”

Flipping through the list of potential venues, Joel tucked into your side, you said, “We’ll have an outdoor ceremony. No churches.”

“Baby, I won't burst into flames if I step inside a church.” Joel playfully flicked his tongue over your nipple, obscured by his T-shirt. “Tommy, on the other hand… things he's done…”

You laughed, gently pushing at his head. “No churches,” you said again. “I don't care how much more we’ll have to pay or travel to get around it. You're my husband. You're my comfort, and I want to be what's comfortable for you. Understood?”

He looked up at you, his lips parted as if on the precipice of speech. You beamed, bringing his face to yours and kissing him deeply. 

“But if the wind knocks over the gazebo, you're not getting your dick inside me on our wedding night,” you said against his mouth. Joel shook his head, yanking you on top of him and tearing the shirt from your body. Your binder landed with a flutter of loose pages to the floor. 

“You didn't kill Cabrera.”

Joel lowers his eyes. “No. He got away.”

“So there's still a contract on your head.”

“For now.”

“So,” you say with a sigh, crossing the room and digging through your bag, “you have to go.”

“I have to go,” he echoes, following you like a shadow. “No matter what… I’m finishing it. Tonight.”

You pull the switchblade from your bag, open Joel’s fist, and place the cool wood hilt in his palm. 

“Goddammit, Tommy,” he says under his breath. “He shouldn't have…”

“But he did,” you say. “He said I should be the one to have it. I think it should be yours.”

He curls his fingers over the hilt and flicks open the blade. It's light, but it seems to weigh him down. You rest your hand over his. 

“Do what you need to do.”

He drops his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, soaking in this final breath exchanged between your silent bodies, dipping his fingers in the sanctified waters and coming out unscalded. 

Bill calls Joel not a moment after he steps onto the street outside the Continental. 

“That's a heavy price on your head.”

“Yeah, Bill, I know.” He breathes in the cool air, like cigarette smoke, his nostrils stinging. Trash and a new, fresh breeze carried into the city. Nothing that stays here ever thrives. “Stayed alive so far.”

“So I hear,” grunts the Manager, “and leaving behind a hell of a lot of cleanup.”

“I won't stick you with the check,” says Joel. “It's my business.”

“I don't conduct business inside this hotel,” says Bill, “which is why I won't tell you that a certain helicopter at a certain helipad is refuelling as we speak.”

Joel smirks, flicking out his cuff to check the time. “Any reason why you aren't tellin’ me this?”

“I like you, Joel. Despite myself.” 

Silent, he waits for more. 

“Besides,” Bill continues, “we live and die by honour. And you've saved my ass more than once.”

Joel snorts. “Which time are you thankin’ me for?”

“Just take my goddamn advice and leave this world. For good this time.”

“I will,” says Joel. “One way or another. Thanks, Bill.”

High above the ground, sitting in the alcove by the window, you watch storm clouds gather over the city, darkening the sky, the sun, and your Joel, so far away, slouching calmly toward whatever end he will choose. 

It's raining. 

The first time you kissed him, a downpour suddenly swept up the both of you and you'd scrambled underneath a bridge by the water. You both laughed until your ribs were sore, holding hands as you ran, a soaking wet playbill above each of your heads for cover. 

“At least the show was good,” you shouted over the roar of the rainfall. 

Joel was mesmerised into stillness by the colours of the traffic lights in your eyes, how they shifted over the planes of your face. Starting to think like an artist, you'd tease, and he'd lean into it, a planet circling its sun. 

“It was all right,” he said, taking the playbill from your hand. “You could catch a cold. We should get a cab.”

“Always my hero.” You grinned up at him, your eyes scanning his face in that particular way they did, as if ingesting the sight of him to later put the lines to a canvas. “Did you have a good time, Joel? I mean, really. You won't offend me.”

He grimaced. “I, uh… well, see, I’m not the best judge, and… I guess—”

“Joel.”

There was a gleam in your eyes that could have been amusement or could have been hunger. He doesn't remember. He only saw you tilt your chin and lower your eyes to his mouth, to that one place the Sisters always called vulgar, obscene, a place meant only for His word—

“Can I kiss you, Joel Miller, or will you keep being all heroic?”

It was soft, gentle, exploratory. Your mouth opened his like a wound, setting the scorching blade of your lips to the gash, staunching the blood. You healed and burned him, one hand on his back beneath his jacket, the other cupping his face. It reminded him of the statue that lived in the theatre underneath the church where all the boys and girls trained. An angel cast in white marble, cradling the face of Saint Eustace. The statue was chipped where his eye was meant to be. 

He remembers the way he shuddered when you touched him like that. He remembers the chill that started in his feet and crept up his spine. Something like coming alive, settling back into his own body—no longer a spirit haunting the shell of a home but a man. 

You pulled back, but Joel curled his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you again, deeper, maybe a little too eager, too inexperienced—but you gasped, fingers curling in his hair, your body curving into his. Your noses bumped when you separated, and he remembers laughing. 

The rain is nothing like that night. It's the lash of a whip across his face, seeping colour from the world instead of infusing it with light and movement. The water by the docks slaps against the concrete and boats rock and groan against their mooring. The lights of the city are distant now. 

Joel steps out of the car. 

He marches toward his target, cocking the pistol in his hand, and calls out a name. It gets lost in the roll of thunder across the sky and lodges in his chest. 

Cabrera waits on the landing pad, looking wraithlike in a long black coat and a pair of leather gloves. His pilot fuels the helicopter nearby. Neither of them hear Joel’s voice in the air. The rising sun is what gives him away—or maybe the gunshot, as he lifts his arm and pulls the trigger. 

It does not pierce flesh. It ricochets off one of the rotor blades. He had aimed slightly to the left. 

The pilot scampers off into hiding, but the slash of the bullet through the rainfall is enough to get the attention Joel wants. Cabrera reaches inside the lining of his jacket and fires a single shot. Joel can feel it tear through skin and muscle, but it doesn't hurt. 

“Joel,” greets Cabrera. 

“Manuel.” 

His chest heaves, his jacket soaked through, the cold sinking bone-deep. 

“Let's finish this.”

The glimmer in those depthless black eyes is the panther at the hunt, relentless in its hunger, licking its chops at the sight of a challenge. For all the coward’s blood in his veins, it still pulses at the prospect of winning. 

“Like men,” says Cabrera, tossing his gun aside at the same time Joel does. “With honour. No more guns.”

And it's laughable: the thought that there is any honour left in a world like this. A world where children are beaten and lashed and trained to hold a weapon too big for their hands. A world that burns villages, butchers families, and still claims that without rules, we live with the animals. 

A world as unruly as this cannot be ruled. He never truly considered it until he saw the sad gleam in your eye, felt the empathetic touch of your hand on his face, and began to realise that maybe he should be furious. 

But because he already knows he's going to win, Joel lets his opponent land the first blow. 

The blood is tangy, near-sweet, as he swipes his forearm over his mouth and smears crimson on his shirtsleeve. It tingles faintly on his lips and crackles, warm as the melt from a late-winter snow. He feels it settle in the grooves of his palms, the hairs of his beard. He’s drowning in it. 

Cabrera hits hard, but he’s slow. He’ll take five punches in the time it takes to wind up for one. Joel brings his arm up to block the next and delivers a blow to the sternum with his knee as his opponent’s guard drops. Wide open, Cabrera stumbles a few steps back, choking down the telltale wheeze of being winded. Joel marches forward, relentless in his crusade, grasping him by the scruff of his neck, teeth bared like a mad wild dog, and bears his skull down on the side of the railing. Around them, the wind howls and lashes at his clothes, but he still hears the pained scream as if it were poured into his ears. 

Cabrera drops to his knees, and Joel grabs him again, bashing his head repeatedly against the steel bar, the lapel of an Italian leather coat bunching between his fingers, tainted by rainwater and the fist of the man who's come to take his life. 

And fuck, Joel wants to make it last. 

But there's a knife in his opponent’s hand, conjured from the darkness of his coat pocket, and Joel must release him to avoid the lethal slash of the blade. Blinking blood and lashing rain from his eyes, the man lunges with a snarl, and Joel recovers from his lost victory, stopping him with his fingers curled around his opponent’s wrist. He brings his hand to the crook of Cabrera’s elbow and uses his leverage to snap the bone.

Yowling, Cabrera drops to his haunches, the knife clattering to the ground. Joel, chest heaving, stands over him, flexing his fingers as he readies his fist for the killing blow.

His name leaves Cabrera’s bloodied mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of crimson-tainted saliva spat on the ground at Joel’s feet. 

“Joel…” He lifts his head, cradling his broken arm, and sneers. There’s a chilling glow of satisfaction in it. “Did you get your perfect life, Joel? Do you really think you’ve won? It won’t ever stop. Not after you’ve killed me, not after you’ve killed all of them. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill them all?”

He could. He has done far worse. He has spilled blood for gold coins and superficial alliances and someone else's revenge. He has stalked, stolen, lied, killed, and he could finish this now, so easily, with the flick of a blade. 

But the song of death does not call to him now. 

For so long he had trudged, unmoored, through heavy crimson blood. Like pulling at the seams of velvet, he'd sewn more lives into the sea of red and he never looked behind him to see the souls trying to pull him down at the ankles. He didn't know purpose until he saw the way the candlelight flickered in your eyes, until he tilted his head to the side and realised your smile was a new kind of beautiful from each angle. 

The rain sticks to his lashes and he thinks of an old song of prayer the Sisters used to chant. He remembers curling his fingers around one of the rosaries that hung from the large cross in the cathedral and wincing in anticipation. He thought he would burn—that the metal would leave a red stain on his palm. It never did. 

Maybe that's why he never believed. Surely, if there was a God, Joel Miller would have burned by now. 

He thinks of shopping for furniture and date nights and lazy mornings, tangled in bedsheets. Your mouth, smiling against his, whispering I love you across the breakfast table. Dancing—or swaying, more like—under the kitchen light. Loving easily, never feeling as if he must grab hold of the cross and burn himself upon it just to feel. 

Joel turns the switchblade in his hand, lurches forward, and plunges the knife into Cabrera’s chest. 

There is no noise but a faint gurgle from his mouth, his hand weakly rising to grasp the hilt. Joel drops to his knees and fishes Cabrera’s cell phone from his pocket. 

“The blade is stuck in your aorta,” he says. “If you pull it out, you’ll bleed out and die.” He puts the rain-slick screen in front of Cabrera’s face. “Pull the contract.”

A few feeble taps are all it takes, and Joel Miller is no longer a target. His name glares back at him on the screen, from two million to nothing, not the boogeyman any longer but something akin to a civilian. Joel tosses the phone into the water and turns to leave. 

“See you in hell, Joel,” Cabrera chokes, still grasping the shiny wooden hilt of the blade.

He barely hauls himself into the car, which chokes to a rumbling start. There's blood seeping through his shirt where Cabrera shot him, and his fingers shake as they pull away from the wound, the red so bright, so alive. Joel grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. 

If there’s a God, he thinks, I hope you fucking hear me now. 

Tell me that we don’t get what we deserve. Because there is nothing I deserve in this world if I cannot keep what I’ve found.

His fingers trembling, smearing blood across the screen, he makes a call. 

And your voice on the line, soft, sticky with sleep, whispering his name—just his name: Joel?—is what wrenches the first sob from his throat. 

Joel, you say, like it means something, like it's precious. A jewel pressed from dusty black coal. Come back to me. Come home. 

So he does. 

[042502]

Owen // C. Sturniolo x Reader.

SYNOPSIS: You have a small feeling of jealousy after seeing your boyfriend give guitar lessons to a pretty girl, he will fuck you hard to give you security.

WARNINGS: Jealous reader, Chris guitarist, rough sex, delicious touch, music band, among others.

NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :) MASTERLIST!!

You made your way to the front row, getting a clear view of the stage, with a nearly empty beer. After a few more minutes, the announcer introduces the band once more and the curtains slowly rise. He sees the drummer banging his sticks yelling "3, 2, 1!" and the music starts playing.

You were sweating from all the jumping, but it was still fun. Sure, the people around you bumped into you and at times made you want to yell at them, but it wasn't anything too dramatic. Chris managed to spare a couple of glances at you, nothing out of the ordinary. Oh and you couldn't forget the flashing lights and smoke coming out of the sides every time the tempo dropped, it really was a great performance.

After a few more songs, the band called it a night and everyone returned to their groups. You checked your phone for messages from your father, but that attention was quickly interrupted by a group of girls chatting behind you.

"Ugh, Chris is getting hotter and hotter!"

"I know, I'm dying to talk to him, but he's always in that room."

"I'm sure if you make a move towards him he'll bite you, you're super sexy!"

"Yeah! Believe me, He will sleep with any girl who talks to him, it worked for me!"

"Wait seriously? Girl, I don't believe you!"

"Are you serious? Show me the bracelet!"

You heard the girl in question jingling around the bracelet, that damn bracelet. It made your blood boil, it was so hard not to hit this girl. How could it be so easy? Why did he have to sleep with almost every girl here?

Before you could continue listening to these comments, you ran to the band's private room to join them.

"Hey! Did you like the performance?" Nate asked you, blowing a cloud of smoke in your face.

"Yes, it was definitely one of your best." You laughed nervously and there was Chris, sitting with a girl. Before you thought twice, you walked up to him and gave him a nasty look.

"Ma, this is lynn"

"Lynn...?"

"The girl I give guitar lessons to is a bartender here."

The girl was super hot, enough to worry you. He stood up to be at your eye level and smiled at you:

"Hello! Nice to meet you! Your boyfriend is really talented and a great teacher".

"Ahhh yes, it sure is!" You masked your face with a gentle smile and watched her move out of your sight so you could be alone with Chris. He motioned for you to sit on his lap and you obeyed, his hand moving up your thigh.

"Ma... Do you want to smoke outside... take a break from everything here? I know you said it's okay, but maybe some grass will calm you down."

"Sure, I'm fine, I promise Chris." You lied "That Lynn girl seems nice... and strangely close to you."

"I knew it, you're jealous."

"I am not."

"Ma she's just a friend, don't get any ideas."

"If you say so."

"Hey look at me."

You turn your head to look at Chris, his blue eyes practically glowing under the dim lights of the room.

"Nothing is happening, believe me", He reaffirmed with a sincere look, now moving his hand to the back of his neck. Trust him, he says, I have nothing to worry about.

"It's ok, I'll do it" You smiled and found your lips with his.

"Be quiet! My dad is going to listen to us"

"Like I give a shit"

You laughed uncontrollably and the two of them burst into your room. You desperately clung to his clothes so he could take them off and he mirrored your actions. You lay on your back in nothing but your pink lace panties, being attacked by Chris's wet kisses. Your breathing grew deeper by the second as he caressed your breasts while kissing you hungrily. He began to gently pinch your nipples between his warm fingers as he licked and bit at your tongues, your low moans working as fuel for him.

After managing to leave hickeys all over your neck, he pressed his aching cock against your clothed clit, growing impatient with the idea of fucking you mercilessly.

"I want it... Chris" you whined, desperately clinging to him for as much contact as possible.

"What do you want, ma? Tell me," he growls, his voice husky and deep, his fingers hooking into your underwear.

"You, all of you"

You watch Chris smile seductively, dragging the flat of his tongue across your abdomen.

"How much do you love me...?" She teased, stretching her grip on your soaked panties.

"Really fucking bad" You moaned, and he kept his eyes on you as he took off your thong.

"Someone's wet" He chuckled as you felt his thumb press against your heat. Chris lowered his head and his thighs closed around the sides of his face.

You shuddered once you felt him kiss your folds a few times before eating you out, quickly swirling his tongue up and down and around your clit.

You were seeing stars, you grabbed a fistful of his black hair and humped his face in an attempt to come.

"Yes, yes~" You bit your lip feeling your face heat up with so much pleasure.

He grabbed your thighs to steady himself and began sucking on your clit, making loud popping sounds. You were too overwhelmed to even try to shut him up and instead let him do his magic.

He drew a moan from you once he stopped eating your pussy and buried his knuckles into the bed, lining himself up with your entrance. Your hands reach out to caress her cheeks, giving her a smile that made her cheeks redden.

"Can.."

And it was like he read your mind in an instant.

"yes"

"Owen~ Fuck!" You moaned as he suddenly slammed into you. He slid in almost effortlessly, given how wet you were. Hearing his name come out of your mouth drove him crazy and turned him on even more.

You felt his length brush against your velvety walls, and he looked at you as you rolled your eyes. You spread his legs wider so he could move his hips forward and hit yours.

The bed creaked, your skin slapped against his, and both of your pants were all you could hear. Your body would go numb and limp every time he touched your cervix. He quickly found your weak spot, making you meow shamelessly.

"Right there, ma?"

"Just there, Owen"

He began abusing your sweet spot, hitting you like you were all he had left. He was also starting to make noise with her moaning, which was weird. You made sure to keep your eyes on him and vice versa as you placed a hand on his face. He rests her head on your hand, drilling his cock deeper, beads of sweat gathering on her forehead.

"I'm coming, Owe... Can I please?" She pleaded at this point, unable to form proper sentences.

"Say it another time"

"Owen"

"Again"

"Owen~ oh my god... I can't, I can't"

"Cum for me, baby"

You arched your back, letting the orgasm course through your entire body. He pulled out too and came onto your stomach, throwing his head back and moaning softly. He held your trembling legs, leaving a trail of kisses all over your body and to your lips. Chris took a washcloth and cleaned you before pulling up his boxers and getting into your bed.

You hugged him under the covers, your fingers brushing his cold skin.

"Chris..." you murmured his name.

"Owen is fine, for tonight." He says and you hummed with a small smile, tracing a line down his chest.

Say.

Say it or you'll regret it

"I love you, Owen"

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment!

TAGLIST: @luverboychris @alexandernvr @prisciliin @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver

[sexynetra]

ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING ME WITH THIS SASHA COLBY

[planete777]

FREAK・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n is full of surprises and shows lando just how dirty she can be. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI, reader x brother'sbsf!lando, riding, mentions of sex toys, high hotness part 3464476, lando is lowkey in love with the reader, getting caught... but not really getting caught.

NOTE. my dearest anon requested and i HAD to write this. my last high!lando installment probably for a while because the summer is coming to an end 😭 i do have one more other fic coming tho, so stay tuned. anyways enjoy luvss <3 also credit to @lesbiacebian for the dividers.

"are you really slagging me off for your girlfriend?"

lando's voice is incredulous, syllables barely pristine as the weed in his head breaks down any cohesion left. the hand pinching the spliff falls to the bed as he sits up, staring at his unmoving best friend.

"she just texted me, i'm not gonna ditch her for you, lando, no offence."

"all taken," he grumbles, then moves to take a harsh inhale of his joint. he may be completely high out of his fucking wits, but he's certainly not pliable like that. he came to get so faded with his friend (and, second to name, supplier) that his brain would feel like it's being suspended over a grill and burned with smoke.

"well," lando sees him shrug half heartedly, "she's putting something on the line for her late night endeavours."

lando scoffs, taking another godforsaken drag. pussy, he thinks, he's getting fucking pussy.

"you're a nasty piece of shit, you know that?"

the boy ahead of him waves him off, "better start going mate, she'll be here any minute."

lando stares blankly at him for so long his eyes begin to unfocus, before he's shaking his head, sliding off the sheets. what a dickhead.

"fine whatever." he opens the door, taking an inhale and exhale of the joint wedged in his lips, and he descends the carpeted stairs with little sentience. his limbs feel dismembered and he can barely perceive the distance from on step to another, but he reaches the ground floor anyways, making his way to the living room.

he guessed he'd find her here, practically one with the couch and eyes welded to the tv screen glimmering with another uninteresting reality show.

the light's off, and considering he could barely walk in a straight line due to the blunt puffing out smoke from his mouth, he doesn't notice y/n turning towards him, pressing pause on the tv.

"lando, hey."

her voice is light, as if she's afraid of disturbing the night, and she swings her legs off the couch. lando subtly scrutinizes what she wears, a tight tank top, and equally as tight shorts, and he begins to feel blood rush to his dick.

"hey," he smirks with the blunt still in his mouth, and shuffles towards the now empty space beside the girl who had him thinking with his dick. he forces the thoughts away, he's not acquainted with the whole corruption kink thing, and y/n screams bloody virgin.

"what brings you here, high out of your mind?" she's staring intensely, as if a blink would make him vanish, grinning light-heartedly.

lando chuckles, taking a long drag, "your brother wanted to get laid, and i'm sure not a voyeurist."

even the thought of it makes y/n grimace, "point made," she curls her legs back unto the couch as lando's eyes follow her.

it's not long before the sound of the doorbell ringing shrills once, dragged until the duration of it could barely hit it being a nuisance. y/n's brother tumbles down the stairs, opening the door with much vigour before dragging her up the stairs with hurrief footsteps. the whole ordeal plays out with silence between y/n and lando, hearing the ruckus with barely concealed amusement, and is cut dead once the bedroom door slams.

"i do not want to hear all that," y/n groans, "his room is right above this one."

"happens when you're pussy whipped like him," lando huffs out a cloud of smoke, "forget who the fuck is around."

"you know you can... go back home," y/n's sceptical, and rightfully so because lando has no idea why he's staying. nevertheless, he makes up an incomplete incentive that sounded valid only in his head.

"i know, but i'm high as fuck and walking in this heat home... yeah no."

his neck flexes as he sucks in as much weed as he can, and y/n watched avidly. something about seeing lando at the mercy of his inhibitions, eyes so red that wherever he looks, he paints it crimson, and lips selling his soul away to the strings of smoke. he's too out if it to notice y/n's assessment, with his head sunken into the couch behind him, and it makes the girl laugh.

"you're gone, aren't you?"

lando does nothing but smirk affirmatively, before limply taking another drag.

"and i could definitely do with a bed to sleep on," he pushes a sound out of his throat, "your brother... fucker, he is."

"for sure," y/n agrees then shuffles to get up, patting lando's thigh. he flitters his eyes open in surprise, diluted, however, because of his lack of level headedness, "what?"

"just this once, i'll give you my bed."

"really?" the word is chipped between his teeth from the burn scarred into the back of his throat.

"yeah," she smiles. lando pretends he doesn't feel his heart grin with her.

"i'm feeling nice today."

he stands up, stretches and feels his joints scream out inexplicable noises. the bed seems like paradise now.

"oh mint, thank you."

receiving a hum in return, he follows the girl up the stairs, praying that his legs don't give way. his mind dozes off as they get to the landing, and it's only when he trails behind her inside, on autopilot, and she shuts the door, does his conscience focus like accomodating vision.

"i need to go the bathroom, one sec."

his mind has one whiplash after another as he process her rapid disappearance, before tuning back into the room. it's tame, like any young adult room would be, with half-wave plant bunting snaking around her room. her headboard, however, glows white, abd he figures it's from the leds stuck under the rim.

he walks up to the bedside tableand picks up a small framed picture of her and her brother. young, they were, standing side by side with identical sunglasses on. he smiles, then situates it back.

the drawer beneath is open, just enough for him to slip his hand through and open it, but of everything he could presume to find, he does not expect to meet a clear purple dildo, thicker and longer than biologically possible. he feels like there's a broken wire in his brain, hanging and tickling just where it triggers his dick to harden.

he doesn't know why he's enthralled by it, staring at the phallic toy as if it would magically display the images of it being pushed and pressed into y/n, but then he finds himself wishing so. corruption was never his thing, but now it doesn't have to be. because y/n is already debauched from the hot inside, to the deceiving out.

he stands there, idle, and it pushes a huff of laughter from behind him.

"you can get in the bed, lando," she pronounces like he's a formative infant. but he's not moving.

"what is this, y/n?"

he can't see her face fall, confused, but he hears it in the way she speaks, "what?"

then he's storming to her, standing just before her with a burning look. y/n's not stupid, can tell the way he's turned on but whatever he's seen, if not by the way his eyes flick down to her lips, then by the bulge that pokes her peripheral vision, and it's that her eyes widen in shock.

"oh fuck."

"oh fuck indeed," he takes a final drag before quelling it on the desk behind her, "who knew you were shoving 8 inch dildos up your pussy?"

y/n knows where to push his buttons, get the heat rising like a flood of lava just before it turns into a battle of who will give in first?

her arms are wrapping themselves around his shoulders, pulling him in, "and who knew," a hand, calculative and slow, slides down to press the hard on in his jeans, "you would get turned on by it?"

then he's kissing her, hard, wet, messy, with tongues and soft lips eager for each other like they were quenching years of thirst. lando takes everything that y/n gives him, lapping at her tongue and biting at her lips with unrestricted composure.

she's pushing him back, hands scrambling on his top to get it off, and when she does, gives him a final nudge to the chest that has him flying to the bed.

he smirks up at her, watching as she dwindles to nakedness and lando thinks that he can't be seeing this. y/n, in front of him, stripping as if it's a private show, with her brother just a few doors down. it's fucking filthy, and makes him hot all over.

"you gonna suck me off?"

he'd found a way, though he feels semi paralyzed, to rid himself of his jeans, slowly jerking his dick as precum begins to trickle down his skin.

"want to, but i need your dick inside me," y/n says, all breathy and pent up, causing lando to groan as she crawls her way up his thighs.

"fuck, you're gonna kill me." his heart is accelerating in his chest, the libido in him heightens as y/n chuckles at him and takes his dick out of his own hand and he feels completely brainless.

"you ready?"

all he can muster is a nod, and then hot fucking tightness. their moans are akin in volume, elastic and lewd, and as y/n slips further down, lando's dick feels completely rock hard and throbs as he swears every gallon of his blood pools at his cock.

"fucking hell, you're tight, y/n," his mouth feels wet and dry simultaneously and he squeezes his eyes shut as she begins to roll her hips and press down hard.

she bounces and grinds like she's meant for it, and lando can't process that sweet, innocent y/n is bouncing on his dick, squeezing him like she wants to keep him there.

his hands grip her ass, thrusting upwards to meet her hips and the cacophony of slapping skin snaps any vocal composure in him. lando moans like he's being eaten by pleasure itself and y/n grinds and grinds and grinds.

"fuck, lando," her head is thrown back like it's completely broken, and lando preens.

"you're so fucking good for me, y/n, keep going," he can't hold back, feels his hands grip her hips and her ass careening into his thighs with every bounce and, fuck, it's so dirty and so good.

y/n looks slutted out, debauched as she splits herself on his cock. it sends lando tipping over the edge, about to cum fast and deep, when a harsh knocking pounds into the door.

they both freeze, panting as sweat licks heat into their flesh.

"for fuck's sake, keep it down! some people are trying to sleep!"

it's shortly followed by angry footsteps and a slam of a door.

lando, still hard and pulsating in y/n's cunt, has a face of bewilderment, "shit— i forgot he was there."

y/n turns back, smirking, and slowly rolling her hips again, "and continue to do so. now fuck me, lando."

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 6

Warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, alcohol consumption

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve finally gets the answer to a question that has been haunting him for days.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: @belokhvostikova remember the ask you sent me about the idea with the denim jacket? I had to include it in this chapter, so thank you hehe &lt;;3

series masterlist

-

Steve’s phone kept ringing all day, since the early morning hours. He doesn’t know if it was her or his mom, he didn’t bother to get up and check. At some point, the doorbell rang twice, he didn’t get up to open it either. He wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want to see anyone except for you. The thought of you just made him cry harder and made him feel more pathetic about himself – he kept reminding himself that it was him who fucked it all up. 

He never felt such self hatred for himself the way he does now. All day, he laid in bed thinking about you and all the things that happened that led him here, getting drunk at a bar he used to hate, wallowing in self pity while he knocks back one drink after the other after throwing his fake ID on the counter.

How will he keep going? 

Steve downs his fourth drink of the night and slides the empty glass over to the bartender, asking for another one. 

The man gives him a look of concern, eying Steve for a moment. 

“Just.. please,” Steve mumbles. 

The bartender sighs, shaking his head, he mumbles something under his breath but still, he picks up the bottle and pours the whiskey into the glass, “you’re getting water after this one, son.” 

“I have water at home,” Steve says. He reaches for the glass and slides it back towards himself. He leans his elbow on the counter and looks around the mostly empty room. Some rock song is playing in the background, one he doesn’t recognize. There’s a heavy cloud of smoke in the corner of the room where two men are sitting, laughing at some jokes that probably aren’t funny as they smoke their cigarettes and drink their beer. 

The door opens and in walks the guy that is probably one of the most irritating people at Hawkins High – to him, at least. Steve bites back a groan when their eyes lock. He turns back around, avoiding eye contact. From the corner of his eye, he sees him walking towards the bar. 

“Hey Tony.” 

Steve lifts his head a little to see the Bartender smiling. 

“Hey Ed, how’s it going?” 

Eddie drums his fingers against the wooden counter, he looks around the room, “good, uh, have you seen my notebook? I’ve been looking for it everywhere but I can’t find it – I even cleaned out my van, can you believe it?” 

Tony chuckles, “was about time you cleaned out that thing, boy.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, snorting, “yeah, well I’m busy.” 

“With what?” 

Eddie pretends to think as he raises his brows and looks up at the ceiling, “well, working my ass off so I don’t have to repeat senior year again, I recently found a good tutor,” Eddie smirks, “got myself a muse to help me write the song texts,” Eddie wiggles his brows, making the older man laugh, “working on a new campaign. Oh and of course, how could I forget, comforting the broken hearted – you know, just the usual,” he shrugs as his eyes flicker over to Steve for a moment.

“What a busy man you are, Eddie,” Tony chuckles, shaking his head. He throws the towel on the counter, “I’ll take a look in the back.” 

“Thanks man,” Eddie smiles, watching him disappear in the hallways. He turns his head to look at Steve. 

“What is King Steve doing at the Hideout?” 

Steve turns to face him and Eddie raises his brows in surprise, “damn, you look like shit, man.” Eddie says. Taking in the puffy eyes and the dark circles beneath them, he almost feels bad for him. His hair looks messy, not as perfectly done the way it always is. 

“Get lost, freak.” 

“Always the douchebag,” Eddie mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Steve turns away, he raises the glass to his lips and takes a sip, swallowing the bitterness. 

“Are you pre drinking for the dance tomorrow or are you just drowning your sorrows in alcohol because you finally realized what a piece of shit you are?” Eddie asks. Not being able to hold back. 

Steve frowns, he turns to face him. There is something in Eddie’s eyes that Steve can’t read. 

“What the hell is your problem?” He asks. Not understanding the anger that is directed at him. They never liked each other but they never attacked each other either. Steve avoided him, he never had the jock’s back when they bullied him but he never really did anything about it either. 

Eddie looks at him for a moment. He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it. He sighs and looks away but Steve keeps staring at him. A weird feeling takes over him when he looks down at the jacket Eddie is wearing. His heart stops and his face pales. 

It’s that jacket. The one that has been in your room all week. It’s just a normal dark denim jacket, it could just be a similar one, he tells himself. But the Metallica pin on the sleeve is the exact same one that he had seen on the jacket in your room. 

Eddie smells like cigarettes and weed, the cologne that he can smell even from a distance is the same one that he had smelled on you. Realization floods through him in a cold wave. 

Eddie Munson is the stoner Billy had talked about? 

Eddie Munson is the guy you have been seeing? 

How did you even meet him? 

You never even talked to him when you were still with him. 

“You got lucky, Ed,” Tony says, holding up Eddie’s notebook, “you gotta take better care of your things.” 

Eddie chuckles, feeling relief. He takes the notebook and sighs, “I know, I know,” he mumbles and steps back, “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Tony.” 

“Tell your old man to come by too.”

“Yes sir,” Eddie salutes, grinning at the older man, he takes another look at Steve, who stares into blank space as he holds the half empty glass in his hand. Sighing, he turns around and leaves. 

Steve snaps out of his thoughts, he reaches for the wallet in his back pocket and picks out a fifty dollar bill. He throws it on the counter and puts his wallet back into place, he grabs his jacket and makes his way out of the bar, following Eddie. 

“Hey! This is too much, kid!” 

“Keep the change,” Steve mumbles before he stumbles out into the cold. He clumsily puts on his jacket. The cold air hits him harshly and he suddenly feels much tipsier than he did while he was in there. 

Eddie stands by his van, the notebook is tucked under his arm, his hand is cupped over the cigarette that is between his lips as he lights it up. 

“Hey!” Steve calls out to him. He stumbles through the snow. He blinks, trying to get rid of the blurriness in his eyes. 

Eddie turns around to face him, a curious look residing on his face. He blows the smoke into the other direction and leans against his van. 

“What do you want, Harrington?” 

Steve stops in front of him. The wind feels harsh on his skin, not even the thick jacket does anything to shield him from the cold. How Eddie is able to walk around with a denim jacket and not freeze to death makes him wonder.

“W-Where did you get that jacket?” He asks. Not knowing what else to ask now that he stands in front of him. 

Eddie stares at him with a serious look on his face, eyeing him up and down. “Why?” He asks. “You wanna buy it?” 

Steve furrows his brows, he shakes his head, “no?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Steve’s mind is a little hazy, he feels more drunk than tipsy, right now. 

“You’re the stoner.”

Eddie raises his brows, his dark eyes flash with amusement and confusion, “the stoner?” He chuckles and takes another drag from his cigarette. “They usually call me a drug dealer but sure, I’m also a stoner – sometimes.” 

Steve shakes his head. “A-Are you with y/n?” 

Eddie tilts his head. “With y/n?” 

“Are you hooking up with her?” Steve asks, angrily. 

A knowing look takes over Eddie’s expression. He pulls back and sighs in annoyance. 

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, I don’t take advantage of vulnerable girls. And not everything is about sex,” he glares at him. He feels irritated by Steve and by the way he looks so confused about this revelation. 

“Then what is it about?” He slurs. Throwing his hands up. 

“Jesus, you’re a real douchebag. Is that all you think about? Sex?” He asks. “Can’t two people that like each other just be friends?” 

The look on his face tells him no. For some reason, Steve can’t comprehend that thought. How can Eddie be your friend and not want you? He always wanted you. Ever since you were little kids. He always loved you. He always wanted you to be his – until he didn’t. 

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes, he throws the cigarette into the snow and walks away. The sound of Steve’s keys jingling makes him halt in his tracks though. He closes his eyes, annoyance rushes through him. He doesn’t like Steve, he never did and after what he did to you, he started liking him even less but you are his friend and you still care about him. He takes a deep breath and turns around. 

“Put those keys away, dude.”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles. Looking up in confusion. 

“You’re not driving home like that,” he says. Pointing to his drunken state, he watches Steve trip over a small pile of snow. Maybe if things were different, he would’ve laughed at him. “Get in the van, I’ll drive you home.”

Steve looks at his car, knowing he is in no state to drive himself but he refuses to get into a car with Eddie Munson. 

“I’ll walk.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you let the freak drive you home.”

It’s not about that, it’s about you. 

Steve looks at Eddie, who stares at him in annoyance. 

“Get in the car, dude. She’d kick my ass if she knew that I let you drive home like this.” 

Steve looks down for a moment. He takes a few deep breaths and nods. He puts the keys back in his pocket and opens the door, careful not to slip on the icy ground, he looks down and gets into the van. 

Eddie jumps into the driver's seat and closes the door. He throws the notebook on the windshield and puts the key into the ignition, startling Steve with the loud music when he starts the car. He scrunches his face up and turns down the volume, “shit, my bad.”

Steve’s heart is pumping in his chest, sighing, he opts to look out the window after putting the seatbelt on. 

“Your music sucks.”

“The audacity you have, Harrington,” Eddie scoffs. “Here I am being nice, inviting you into my van and you dare to insult the best music that there is!” He says dramatically.

Eddie hits the buttons, turning on the radio instead, Heroes by David Bowie starts playing, “here, just for you, King Steve.” He snorts. Not knowing that this will turn out to be a bad idea. Steve tenses up when he hears the song but Eddie doesn’t notice, he is too focused on the street as he backs out of the parking spot. 

The song takes him back to last year, back to you. 

“If you had to give us – our relationship a song, which one would it be?” You asked him as you sat on his lap. 

“A Song?" He asked, chuckling. 

You nodded with a smile on your face as you looked through your new polaroid pictures that you have taken with him in the snow. He leaned his chin on your shoulder and tightened his grip on your waist. 

“Uh– probably, Heroes.” 

“By David Bowie?” 

“Yeah.” 

You nodded, humming. For a moment, it was silent between the two of you, you placed the polaroids back on the table and turned to face him.

“Isn’t it sad though?” 

Steve shrugged, not thinking as deeply as you did. 

“He sings,” you cleared your throat and looked at him shyly. “And you, you can be mean,

and I, I'll drink all the time. 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day. We can be heroes for ever and ever. What d'you say?” 

Steve was smiling at you, his heart was fluttering in his chest and you, you were blushing by the time you were done singing. 

He poked your waist and leaned in to kiss your cheek, giving you one of his rare soft moments. “Exactly, he sings ‘we’re lovers’.”

“You are not listening to the rest of the song, Steve!” 

 “Then keep going.”

“No,” you giggled. 

“Please,” he whispered, pouting. “I love your voice.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully. You kissed his cheek and began to sing again, clearly loving the sweet moment between the two of you when he watched you with soft eyes. He cleared his throat and picked you up, laughing at the squeal that fell from your lips, he leaned in to steal a kiss before he placed your feet on the ground. He grabbed your hairbrush from your desk and held it up to his lips. 

“I, I will be king and you, you will be queen.” He sang. 

You giggled and walked backwards as he began to walk you towards your bed. 

“Though nothing will drive them away. We can be Heroes, just for one day.” He furrowed his brows as he tried to remember the rest of the lyrics. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him, “and we kissed, as though nothing could fall.” 

“You forgot the rest of the lyrics–” he cut you off with his lips on yours, kissing you passionately. He pulled your body so close against his, he could feel your heartbeat. 

Now he feels his heart breaking in his chest. 

Maybe it’s the ache in his chest, maybe it’s the alcohol in his system or maybe it’s just a combination of both that makes him break down in Eddie Munson’s van. Startling the man who was bobbing his head to the music until he heard Steve’s quiet sob. Stopping at the red light, he furrows his brows and looks over at Steve. 

“Uh– you good?” He asks. He feels a little stupid to ask him that, clearly, Steve is feeling anything but good. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and presses his lips together. How does he comfort a man that he doesn’t even like? 

Steve cries softly, the shame isn’t there yet, right now, he doesn’t care that he is crying in front of Eddie who could tell everyone that King Steve broke down in his car while listening to David Bowie. 

“Need a tissue?” Eddie asks even though he knows he doesn’t have any in his van. 

Steve just shakes his head, clearly wanting to be left alone.

Eddie nods to himself, taking a deep breath, he sighs. Eddie knows why he is crying, it doesn’t take him long to figure it out. The moment he saw him getting drunk at the Hideout, he just knew. 

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive over to Steve’s house. The music and Steve’s soft cries sound through the van. A part of Eddie pities Steve, the other part doesn’t – after all, it’s all his own fault. 

He pulls up into Steve’s driveway, still remembering the way to his house from the last party he threw back in august when he had first talked to you. He stops the car and turns down the music a little. 

“We’re here.” 

Steve nods. He wipes the tears away and he reaches for the door handle but he doesn’t leave, not yet. His eyes fall on the note lying on the floor, it must’ve slipped out from his notebook. He instantly recognizes your handwriting and his heart drops a little when he realizes that you are writing them for someone else now. It’s not affectionate or romantic, the note only says ‘good luck on the test today. Can’t wait for the milkshakes you promised!’ Next to a smiley. 

“I miss her.”

Eddie didn’t expect to hear those words from him. He leans back in his seat. 

“I-I miss her so much,” he whispers. “I-I don’t know what to do without her. I want her back.”

“You have a girlfriend, man. You left y/n for her,” Eddie mumbles. “Do you even know what you want?” 

Steve feels the bile rising in his throat. He feels sick. 

“I do now, b-but it’s too late.”

Eddie glances at him. The look of sadness and the tears are genuine and so are his words but there isn’t anything that he could say that could make Steve feel better. He doesn’t deserve you, you are too good for him and you have suffered enough to give him another chance to break you again. 

“I don’t know what you wanna hear, dude. You broke her heart and you did it in such a fucked up way too, there’s no coming back from that.”

Steve isn’t sure about what he wanted to hear but it’s definitely not that. 

“Just leave her alone, you’re only making things worse,” Eddie sighs as he thinks about you. “Go home, Steve.” 

Steve sniffles, he opens the door and nods. 

“And don’t ruin the night for her tomorrow.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, he looks at him through the tears. “She's coming?” 

Eddie nods, “yeah, her friends convinced her to come.” He can see the look in Steve’s eyes, it’s the same one he sees in your eyes. He loves you, which makes everything so much more confusing. Why did he leave you for someone else when he loves you so much? 

Steve blinks. He looks down for a moment, staring at the note that makes his heart ache. “Oh okay,” he whispers. “T-Thanks for driving me home.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, this is the most kindness he had ever shown to him. 

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbles. He narrows his eyes at him. Steve doesn’t move yet. The look on his face tells him that he wants to say more. 

“Spit it out, dude.” 

Steve looks up. Tears continue to brim in his eyes, the words are strangled in his throat. He takes a few deep breaths as he tries to stay calm. 

“T-Take care of her?” 

Eddie wants to tell him that you are capable of taking care of yourself but he decides against it. He nods. Even though he can’t understand why Steve did what he did, he can imagine the self hatred and the sadness he is feeling. A flicker of sympathy flashes in Eddie’s eyes.

“I will.”

Steve almost breaks down when he thinks of your words again, of the way you cried when you begged for him to leave, when you called him bullshit. 

He walks away when he feels like breaking down again. 

He fumbles with the keys, almost dropping them when his hands begin to shake. He manages to open the door, he steps inside and closes it. Leaning against it, he drops the floor and buries his face in his hands, a broken sob leaves his lips. 

He knows he has to let you go, the way you let him go but how? 

How? 

-

You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror. You apply the red lipstick that Chrissy convinced you to get when you stopped by the drug store after you bought the dress that you had caught your eye the last time you went shopping with them. A black, glittery dress. It’s not too tight but it’s not a wide one either, though it fits your body perfectly. The straps are thin and it has a cut on the side. You love it. It’s not something you would usually wear, you always opted for the colorful dresses but, you feel like it’s time to switch things up. 

How you let them convince you to come to the dance after all? You have no idea but the thought of spending another night filled with tears made you feel miserable. 

Heather is standing behind you with the curling iron as she finishes off the rest of your hairstyle. 

Some Christmas song is playing on the radio, the room smells like a mix of hairspray and perfume.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask as you stop applying the lipstick. 

She hums, glancing at you through your mirror. 

Heather purses her lips, she pulls the curling iron away from your hair and twists the wave. 

“Is it just me or is Chrissy being weird towards me?” 

“What do you mean?” She asks. But you can see the knowing look in her eyes, you know she – they are both not telling you something.

She runs her fingers through your hair and smooths down your waves and applies more hairspray. 

“She’s just, I don’t know. I feel like she’s keeping something from me,” you mumble. “And she seemed so sad when I agreed to go with you.” 

Heather hesitates to speak up. You can tell that she is trying to come up with a lie. 

“She’s probably just sad because she has to go with Jason Carver.”

You look down at your painted nails and nod, “yeah, I guess.”

“Which I totally get, who would want to go with him?” Heather tries to change the topic, you know she is.

“Literally no one,” you snort. “But he will probably be the new King of Hawkins High once Steve and Billy graduate and the naive freshman girls will throw themselves at him,” you say with a disgusted look on your face. 

“God, that’s a disgusting thought,” Heather says. “Let’s talk about something else – look at you,” she smirks as she leans down, placing her finger under your chin, she raises your head, “queen of Haw–”

“Don’t say that,” you groan as you tilt your head up to look at her. 

She chuckles and ruffles your hair a little. “You look amazing, now get your ass into that dress and let’s go. Maybe Munson will show up for you and steal you for a dance,” she wiggles her brows.

You roll your eyes but you can’t fight the smile off your face. 

“Shut up,” you mumble. You reach for your half finished drink. Maybe it’s not a good idea to drink alcohol but you need it, right now. You don’t plan on getting drunk, just a little tipsy to make it through the night. 

You both finish getting ready, you put your dresses on and take a few polaroid pictures in front of the fairy lights in your room. You throw a mint into your mouth and spray more perfume on yourself, hoping that your mom won’t smell the wine on you. 

She doesn’t notice it or at least, it seems like she doesn’t. She takes more pictures of you and Heather in front of the Christmas tree before you leave.

The school hall is bustling with people, loud music is playing and everything is decorated in gold, red and green colors – fitting the Christmas season. Your arm is linked with Heather’s. She seems excited, you feel overwhelmed.

The lights are flashing, girls in colorful dresses rush past you with their dates. You look around, trying to spot Chrissy but you don’t see her anywhere. You sigh, the first few minutes of a big event are always the most awkward ones. 

Where do you stand? Where do you sit? Who do you talk to? Is it too early to dance? Is it too early to leave? 

“Hey, are you okay?” Heather asks. 

You nod, smiling at her. 

“You seem a little overwhelmed.” 

“I’m fine, I-I just need something to drink.” 

“A drink?” A deeper voice asks. One that instantly makes you roll your eyes. 

Billy steps in front of you with a smirk on his face, he eyes you up and down before he looks over at Heather, checking her out as well. He is wearing a tux, the button down underneath the jacket is almost fully unbuttoned. 

“You look slutty, Billy.” You joke, “you’re lucky Mrs. Myers isn’t around or you’d be sent home for violating the dress code.” 

He chuckles darkly, leaning closer to you, he holds up one finger, “the slutty look is exactly what I was going for.” 

“As always,” you snort.  

“Do you wanna dance?” Billy asks you. 

“No thanks but Heather wants to dance.”

She turns to you with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I know you want to,” you whisper into her ear before you pull away and place her hand into Billy’s, who smirks at you. 

“I’ll drown you in the punch if you don’t treat her well.” 

He only laughs in amusement, clearly not taking the threat seriously. 

“Y/n?” Heather glares at you. 

“Have fun, babe.” 

You know all about her not so secret crush on Billy – she is good at hiding it but you saw right through it. 

You make your way over to the snack table. Waving at some of the girls from the cheer squad who are taking pictures with their dates. 

A huge bowl is in the middle of the table, filled with red liquid and fresh fruit. You wonder if someone spiked it with alcohol yet. You pour some of it into a cup and take a sip. Definitely spiked. You down the rest of the drink and pour yourself a second cup. 

“Hey.”

You freeze. You stare down at your drink. Yeah, you definitely need the alcohol tonight. You haven’t talked to him since that night, you sat next to him during English class today and you had submitted the essay together but you didn’t talk and you hoped that it would stay that way. You didn’t want to talk to him anymore. 

“Careful with the punch, Tommy spiked it.”

You turn around to face him, his eyes widen a little when he takes in the sight of you. He looks you up and down, not in the same way Billy did but in a way that leaves your skin crawling and your heart racing. 

He is wearing a black tuxedo with a red bow tie. His hair looks amazing as always but his eyes are filled with sadness. 

“Good,” you mumble as you drink the spiked punch. 

“Y-You look beautiful,” Steve says. His heart flutters, you steal his breath away. The dark eyeshadow makes your eye color more prominent. Your red lips look so kissable and the dress looks like it was made for you. You are perfect.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Steve?” You sigh. You refuse to look into his eyes, knowing that it will only make things worse. 

He blinks, furrowing his brows. He looks over your shoulder to where she’s standing with Jonathan, smiling at him. “She’s uh–” he stops talking when he sees you walking away. He sighs, clenching his hand into a fist, “shit..”

You already feel like going home – you knew you would run into him, you still weren’t prepared, you never are. You are sick of the feeling he leaves you with whenever you see him. You are so over it. 

You take a seat at your assigned table and look around, finally spotting Chrissy in the crowd. She’s dancing with Jason, you can see the forced smile even from a mile away. 

You can’t stand him. You always hated the way he treats others – the way he thinks that he is so much better than everyone else and the way he thinks he can have anyone he wants. The way he uses Mrs. Cunningham’s liking towards him to force himself into Chrissy’s life, knowing that she doesn’t actually like him. 

You relax a little when you see Heather heading towards Chrissy, pulling her away from Jason so that they can dance together. You lean back in the chair and sip on your drink. 

You wish you would have stayed at home. 

You wish you would have listened to Eddie when he said that this sucks. 

You feel like a loser, sitting by yourself at this empty table, sipping one drink after the other as your eyes continuously move back to him. You see him with her and it breaks your heart all over again. By now, you should be used to it and you were – you have gotten used to this. To him not being yours anymore, to him loving someone else, to him being with someone else but then he turned everything upside down.

His confession left you in shambles. He had broken everything, again. All the strength you have gathered since the day he left you, he took it all away from you with a few words and a kiss that almost happened. 

He loves you, that’s what he said. But he is here, holding her in his arms, kissing her as though he didn’t try to kiss you, two nights ago. He is dancing with her, whispering things into her and holding her tightly. 

None of it makes sense to you. 

If he loves you so much, then why is he dancing with her as though nothing ever happened? 

Why is he still with her? 

Is she a rebound now or were you just the backup plan all along? 

The girl he’d come back to once things with her go downhill? 

Are they already going downhill? 

Is that why he told you he still loves you? 

So that he has someone to come back to? 

You feel so miserable. The longer you stare at him. You begin to feel worse and worse. 

Not even a dance with your friends helps you lift your mood. Not even the compliments and the nice things that people have said to you tonight, make you feel better. Nothing makes you feel better but you force a smile on your face, a happy one. The way you always do and you dance with Heather and Chrissy, holding their hands and pretending to have the time of your life when all you wanna do is go home and cry yourself to sleep. 

It’s when you find yourself sitting on the bleachers with a sad expression on your face, ready to say ‘fuck it’ and go home, that your night takes a turn for the better. 

You don’t hear the footsteps coming your way, you are too busy looking at all the happy couples. Someone clears their throat. 

“May the Master of Dungeons have a dance with the ethereal Queen of Hawkins High?” 

Your eyes widen and a smile tugs at your lips, you straighten up and turn to look at Eddie who playfully bows in front of you with a smile on his face, getting a few weird looks from the other, which neither of you care about.

A giggle falls from your lips, “Eddie!”

“Come on, give me your hand, Queen.”

You laugh and place your hand in his. He pulls you up and smiles at you when your eyes lock. “Look at you,” he beams. He raises your hand over your head, “give me a twirl,” he winks. 

You roll your eyes, playfully. Giving him the twirl that he asked for, you can’t help but giggle when he begins to whistle. 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart!” 

He grabs your waist when you stumble a little. He instantly smells the alcohol on you. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” 

He eyes you with a smile on his face, “love the smokey eyes and the dress – honestly, you look like a witchy fairy.” 

“A witchy fairy?” You laugh, tilting your head. 

He puts his hand over his heart, “I mean that as a compliment – a badass witchy, fairy, shit, I’m gonna have to create a character based on you now.” 

You shake your head, laughing at the concentrated look on his face. He is wearing a white button down, a few buttons are left undone, one of his tattoos is peeking out from beneath the shirt, and a silver chain is around his neck. His curly hair looks as good as always. 

“You look amazing, Eddie.”

He raises his brows in surprise, his dark eyes light up. 

“Thank you, badass fairy witch,” he winks. “Look, I stole these pants from Wayne, I have none without holes in them,” he laughs, pointing to the black pants he is wearing.

You can’t even help but giggle. 

“I thought this isn’t your thing,” you say. Gesturing to the dance. 

He shrugs, “yeah well, I thought you could use a dance partner.”

Your gaze softens. A feeling of warmth and comfort rushes through you. “You came for me?” 

He holds your hand tighter, “who else would I come here for?” He asks as he looks into your big eyes. 

“My knight in shining armor,” you tease. 

He snorts at your words, “come on.” He says as he pushes you in front of him and leads you into the middle of the dance floor, pushing some jock out of the way. You can feel the eyes on you, you can see the weird looks from the cheerleaders when they see you with Eddie. It only makes you scoff at them. 

A squeal leaves your lips when Eddie suddenly twirls you again, laughing when you hold onto his hand tightly. He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans in, “let me guess, you had some of that spiked punch?” He whispers into your ear. 

"Absolutely,” you giggle and turn around to face him. You place your hands on his shoulders. 

“Bad girl,” he smirks, tapping your nose.

“I learned from the best.” You tap his nose back, making him laugh. 

Steve watches you and Eddie with an irritated look on his face. You seem so carefree and happy with him. So familiar. Like you have known each other for a long time already. You melt into his touch so easily and laugh at whatever he is whispering into your ear. 

The feeling in his chest is sickening. He knows it’s jealousy. He can’t do anything about it though. The girl in his arms is his, you aren’t – not anymore.

Every breath you take by The Police starts playing. Some leave the dance floor, some stay to slow dance with their partner. Steve pulls Nancy closer and looks over her shoulder to see what you will do. 

Eddie pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around him, you lay your head on his chest, melting into him so easily. It breaks Steve’s heart a little. He feels tense, it’s hard to see you with someone else, even when Eddie said that there is nothing but friendship between the two of you, it certainly looks more than just that to Steve.

You don’t even notice the weird looks you are getting from the people around you. You are only focused on him. The thought of you and Eddie somehow hurts more than the thought of you and Billy. Because Billy would be nothing more than a hookup but Eddie? Eddie is a good guy, one who will treat you well and love you the way he couldn’t.

“Is everything okay?” Nancy asks as she lifts her head to look at him. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles with a frown on his face. “Why?”

Her blue eyes are filled with confusion, she shrugs, “you seem tense.”

“I’m fine, Nance,” he says, softly. 

“Okay,” she smiles. 

When she lays her head on his chest, he squeezes her and looks back up. His breath hitches in his throat when his eyes lock with yours as you rest your chin on Eddie’s shoulder, who’s back is turned towards him. For a moment, you look at each other. Steve’s heart begins to beat faster in his chest, the longer you look at each other. He longs for you. This, all of this, feels so wrong. He shouldn’t be here with her and you shouldn’t be there with him. 

But while his eyes soften, your eyes harden. 

His are filled with longing and sadness. 

Yours are filled with indifference. 

You look at each other for a few long seconds and then you take one final look at him before you tear your eyes away from him. Somehow, that felt like a stab to his heart because that moment felt like the end. The realization that it is truly over makes his blood run cold. He feels paralyzed by the pain that he had caused himself. 

Eddie tightens his hold on you when he feels how tense you are, he looks down at you with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

"Yes, please." 

next part

only tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @hellfire--cult @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can

[jyoongim]

This isn't exactly a request but a thought that had been so heavy on my brain. Hellborn royalty reader x Alastor who's stronger than he is. I just can't stop thinking about it. Maybe even Goetia reader whew they are stronger and protect him from something and I just go FERAL at the thought.

Some background context:

The Ars Goetia are a royal dynasty of noble hellborn demons who serve as prophets, messengers, and observers of the mortal plane for the King of Hell. They are responsible for maintaining stability within the seven rings. They are highly knowledgeable in the heavens, society, and prophecies of all domains.

—————————————————————————————

The hotel was a wreck.

The Angels had made it their personal mission to eliminate those who resided in the hotel.

The Princess of Hell had acquired your assistance if things got shaky for them.

And OH things were shaking.

Alastor had took it upon himself to fight Adam, when you suggested you could of great help he turned you down. Stating that he would be able to handle the Angel himself.

But things were not looking good for the Radio Demon.

You admired the confidence he had, but the demon was in a sticky situation and you would be damned if anyone hurt YOUR demon.

You were fuming and it was showing.

You calmly walked through the fighting, every attack thrown your way didn’t even touch you as you quickly dispatched your attackers. 

You appeared in front of the injured deer in a cloud of smoke. 

“Hehe who the fuck are you?” Adam asked, but you ignored him as you checked on Alastor.

He was bleeding and weak, you placed your hands on his face, scowling softly “Oh Alastor my sweet. You did good my love but Ill take over from here” he tried to object, but with a wave of your hand, you dissolved him in mist to keep him safe.

You turned to Adam, who was smirking “Tch! You think you can take me? Ha! If your best couldn’t scratch me what thinks you can?”

You smiled, your body morphed into mist “who said he was our best?”

He attacked, swinging his axe and trying to bring it down on you. Your eyes glowed white and with a flick of the wrist he was frozen to the spot. You curled your fingers and watched as the Angel contorted in pain. You hissed “I am the judge and executioner and you, you arrogant pig have no authority here. Divine violence is my right for power belongs to those who take it.” At your words, the sky formed dark clouds and the realm shook.

Adam let out a scream as your magic crackled along his skin, searing pain riddling his body as you burned his wings and corrupted his every soul.

“YOU CANT DO THIS! I AM ADAM! THE FIRST MAN! YOU BITCH! NO NO NO NO!” Your mist enveloped his body and he slowly morphed to black as you took his life. You watched as his soul screeched and struggle. 

You pulled him towards him and smirked, sneering at him with sharp teeth

“Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord” 

And with a soft blow from your lips, he dispersed. His soul crying as you sent him to Limbo.

Hell shook as your magic rocked the cosmos.

The remaining Angels let out a cry as they were struck with pain, felt in their soul.

You were sucking their power and in an attempt to save themselves they retreated back to Heaven.

You morphed back to normal and your misty shadows revealed Alastor to you.

You picked up the red demon and nudged him with your nose, he grumbled ”Y-You didn’t have to intervene. I had it under control”

You hummed, a soft smile on your face a his stubbornness “completely but I wasn’t going to stand around when you clearly needed my help.”

Your face dropped to a pout “don’t tell me that me being stronger hurts your pride? You should be honored. A woman willing to protect her love is a powerful thing to behold”

Alastor sighed, relaxing against you, feeling the exhaustion of the battle overtake him.

You cooed at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Don’t worry I don’t think anything less of you. I think you’re the strongest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting”

The Radio Demon might have been a prideful soul, but it was you who was the strongest.

And really…he was ok with that fact.

[silantryoo]

baek harin x reader

WARNINGS ; TRIGGER WARNING! heavy manipulation, love bombing, possessiveness, gaslighting, physical and emotional abuse, spoilers up to episode 8 of pyramid game

your thoughts ran wild.

harin probably already knew. somehow, she always figured out what you were thinking, as if you were an open book. she could tell your worries and your fears by glancing at you.

you did well. you knew that she would be proud of you, but still...

you shook your head. now wasn't the time to be nervous.

smoke wafted around the baekyeon heiress as you approached her, her eyes drifting in the distance. in her hand, a cigarette, laced with gold and stuffed with toxins that harin always seemed to indulge herself in.

her head tilted towards you, a dull sparkle in her eye.

"so?"

her voice was monotone, carrying out a sense of boredom that she only showed to a few others.

you watched her in all her beauty, the curls of the fog shaping the area around her. the heiress was stunning, and it always took you a couple seconds to reel yourself back to reality.

harin rolled her eyes as she approached you, tapping the side of her smoke as a warning.

instinctively, you straightened, your eyes wide as she smiled.

there was something so addictive about frightening you, something that was true genuine fear laced with an undying loyalty. you were impossible to replicate, a faithful dog waiting by her bedside.

you took a deep breath, inhaling the smoke through your nose. "i got ambushed by jaeun, suji, and them."

"i thought so." another puff of smoke exited her mouth. "did they mention anything?"

anything else?

you bit your tongue, your face ridden with guilt.

you were tired of the game, tired of getting hurt. as much as you yearned for harin's happiness, the exhaustion was getting to you. you just wanted one day to yourself, without eunbyeol and harin breathing down your back.

"no."

harin's eyes hardened, her gaze trained on you like a hawk. her pupils took in the sight; your quivering mouth, your avoidant stare...

she smiled.

"why don't i believe you?" harin clicked her tongue, pointing the end of her smoke near your cheek. "is it because you're lying to me?"

she knew. how did she know?

"no, i just..."

("join us.")

you never questioned why class 1-5 were in the middle of nowhere.

the building was nice, decorated with marble columns and sleek white paint. the washrooms were clean, close by, and rarely messy except for the occasional tissue lying on the ground.

it felt as if you were purposely isolated, the twenty-four other girls in your class being the only ones in reach.

sometimes, you even forgot other classes existed.

"harin's a fucking bitch."

you paused. kim dayeon?

a girl like her wouldn't be caught dead in the library. there was no reason for her to be here, much less talk shit about the heiress of the entire school.

you kept your mouth shut as your thoughts wandered to the girl in question.

baek harin.

pretty, intelligent, soft-spoken. from what you've seen, all those things were right. you were always too shy to approach her, your thoughts clouded by the beauty that she held. from what you heard from others, she was the embodiment of niceness, going out of her way to lend others money with nothing in return (yet).

why would dayeon even say these things about her?

"god, you think she's all high and mighty." dayeon muttered, her feet shuffling as she paced back and forth. "that psycho probably wants us to worship the ground she walks on."

psycho? baek harin wasn't a psycho.

"a hierarchy game?" dayeon could already see it in her head. she had no choice but to agree at that moment, wanting to spare herself from her father later that day, but when harin had mentioned it... "is she demented?"

"pyramid game, dayeon." seo doah. that made sense as to why dayeon was here. "if you're gonna insult it, at least name it properly."

"shut it."

"you might also wanna check if anyone else is in the library." your throat ran dry as doah stood up, staring at you across the room. "right, y/n?"

you shot up, your eyes wide as dayeon stared at you. there was something in her eyes that was unfamiliar.

fear? what was she scared of? surely, it wasn't harin.

"um..."

"fuck." your eyes widened at her words. never in your life would you have thought that the eccentric kim dayeon would swear like a sailor. "don't you dare say shit, you understand me?"

you shook your head, your body stiff. "i won't-"

"you don't know what the fuck is at risk here." dayeon's anger roared throughout the library, her fist shaking. dayeon wouldn't hit you... right? "open your mouth and i'll stitch it shut."

you nodded, trembling as you packed your things to leave.

"jeez, dayeon..." doah shook her head.

you stood up, your bag half open, and your textbooks barely inside. in your arms, you gathered everything that you could, arms shaking as you rushed out the room.

a spark of fear lighted up inside you when you saw daeyeon fingernails imbed themselves into the soft skin of her palm. the crescents swelled a bright red, and you knew that she wasn't joking.

she was gonna hurt you. was she gonna hurt harin as well?

you needed to get out of here, maybe even tell harin how insane and dangerous her friend seemed.

how was that even possible? how could someone like dayeon hold a rage inside themselves like that? you could understand it from that suck up, wooyi, but dayeon?

you stumbled slightly as you turned the corner, the books nearly falling out of your bag as you collided with someone. a strong, sculpted hand grabbed your elbow, electricity shooting up your arm.

that feeling...

"is something wrong?"

her breath smelt faintly of nicotine, her perfume - one you assumed cost at least a couple hundred dollars - blocking the scent enough to not register in your brain.

you bit your tongue. "no..."

"you can tell me, y/n-ah." your heart leaped at her words, a cloud of affection and care seemingly coating them. "i don't bite."

harin's smile seemed so soft and elegant, like the status she so desperately upheld. her eyes gleamed gently (and if you looked any closer, void of life) as her cheeks dusted in a costly blush.

don't snitch. you thought as her worried gaze peered into your soul. why should i protect dayeon?

you bit your tongue, your chest bursting with guilt at the thought of dayeon laying a finger on the heiress in front of you.

"dayeon..." you whisper as an eyebrow on her pretty face raised. "she, um, she might hurt you."

you waited for harin's face to shift into worry, into fear, into a normal reaction. you waited for her lips to part and ask 'why?', to ponder what your words truly meant.

instead, she laughed, as if the thought of dayeon hurting her was a part of some greco-roman comedy and not a tragedy.

harin let go of your arm, moving your hair out of your face as your eyebrows furrowed.

"so i'm guess you heard about my game as well?"

you nod. you had forgotten that those threats had stemmed from some game dayeon had mentioned.

a hierarchy game... a pyramid game.

"what do you think about it?" harin's eyes shone in a playful demeanor, full of curiosity and excitement. you couldn't fathom why or how she wasn't worried. "doesn't it sound fun?"

the air shifted around you as her irises seemed to blacken. a heavy burden settled on your chest as she face twitched into a smile, and you felt compelled - forced - to agree.

"it does," you chuckled awkwardly. "i guess."

a soft hum escaped her mouth, her eyes glancing at your face, taking in the fear that had shifted from dayeon to her. behind your eyes, she saw something... something exciting.

the heiress smiled.

"i hope you're in 'a' with me." you had no idea what she meant, but the thought of being near baek harin made the room spin. "it'll be lonely without you."

she stepped beside you, a gentle touch on your shoulder. her breath wafted close to your ear as she spoke with a stiff voice, one you wouldn't recognize as harin's.

"thanks for the heads up about dayeon." you shivered, a cool line shooting up your spine. "i'll deal with her."

she walked away as a deep pit in your stomach emerged.

deal with her?

you gripped your books tighter as you listened to the fading footsteps, and the soft "hello, can i speak to mr. kim? it's harin." in the distance.

you didn't know why, but somehow, you made the wrong decision.

you were never scared of blood.

it was a liquid that flowed inside you and every person's body, just like how water seeped from the sky and into the ground. blood was a natural process, nothing more and nothing less.

but when you saw that knife, drenched from your classmate's fresh wound...

you shivered at the thought, while harin's soft hands fiddled with a strand of your hair.

"do you feel bad for her?" harin's smile never disappeared, not since the game started. it didn't disappear when crimson dripped onto the floor, either. "woori?"

her lifeless eyes bore into yours, jolts of electricity and fire rising throughout your fingertips and cheeks. her hand, close enough to feel your breath, paused as the rest of harin's body stilled.

all of her stopped, as if so curious about your thoughts that each cell of hers had to still.

"you can be honest." her breath laced in nicotine once more, her perfume no longer covering the overwhelming scent. "i wanna know."

woori was an 'f'.

being an 'a' yourself, you had the right to torture her, to manipulate and ridicule her.

you never did, leaving it up to dayeon to do whatever she pleased with her. part of you still felt bad for what happened earlier in the year, and each time you blinked, you remembered the heavy-handed bruises left on dayeon's face the day after you had told harin about the library incident.

you understood woori, though. the mental toll it must've taken, being bullied throughout the day, months on end without another student looking your way. telling the teachers only resulted in a beating at best, and at worst...

your eyes clenched tightly as your brain replayed that video.

"a little..."

harin chuckled, pulling her hand away and fishing out a cigarette.

"you saw her cut jaeun up." harin muttered through her smoke, her delicate fingers wrapped around the golden band.

you remember the marble on the classroom floor stained red in a way that you didn't think it would.

blood wasn't scary. fear was.

"i did."

"and you still feel bad." harin inhaled, smoke leaving her nostrils as she looked you up and down. "interesting..."

as of late, harin had been smoking around you more and more often. whether it be behind the shed or simply just the two of you in the library, clouds of smoke seemed to follow her, and in turn, you.

the first time it had happened, you had coughed violently, taken off guard as the heiress smiled. your tears were exciting to her, much like your overwhelming sense of loyalty clashing with your morality.

she had never met anyone who was so inwardly conflicted.

"did she really drop out, harin-ah?"

harin blinked, standing up from her chair as she snubbed the end of her cig on some random book cover in front of her. she threw the smoke onto the floor, grinding it with her heel. her eyes were cold, and dark, and you knew that you had messed up again.

you didn't cough this time around. she had no reason to be mad.

the heiress gathered her belongings, sparing not a single glance your way.

"y/n?"

your heart skipped a beat.

"yeah?"

"my name's harin." she glanced at you, unamused. "don't call me that again."

seong suji.

the girl was nice, a little naive to the happenings of class 2-5. you could tell from a mile away that the girl wanted to stay low and let time pass its course, but you knew better than anyone that she had a target on her back.

everyone's attention had been on her from the moment whispers spread about a new girl transferring into the class. the moment she stepped into the room, you watched as harin's eyes lit up, and a fire blazed inside you.

you didn't know whether it was guilt or jealousy.

"are you stupid?" harin clenched her teeth as she hovered over you, her eyes hardening like coals under pressure. "telling the new girl about my game?"

suji didn't hear the predators hiding in the tall grass. she didn't see their eyes, nor did she notice their bloodlust-filled gazes, but she felt it, and there were only two people in her mind who seemed to lack the barbarity that lingered in the empty halls of the complex.

"look at me!"

your eyes snapped to harin's, anger exuding from her lips as puffs of smoke filled the air and ashes fell onto the ground.

you winced.

"harin..." you had never seen this side of her, not directed at you. you had always watched from the distance as opposed to being the target. "i just thought-"

"did you?" harin's lips curled in a way that could only be described as disbelief, your utter incompetence boggling her mind. "or are you just as stupid as your dropout brother?"

you winced, the low blow winding your self-esteem.

"she looked confused." you tried your best to reason with an iron wall. "i didn't want her to feel like-"

harin's eyes widened, and her usual curiosity morphed into an unfiltered rage.

"like who? woori? jaeun?" she exhaled another cloud, your face getting covered in smoke as you struggled to breath. "you're so fucking stupid."

you felt the heiress lean closer, the tip of the cigarette centimeters away from your cheek.

"i'm sorry."

"you're sorry?" harin could feel her blood boiling. everything was ruined. "i had a plan. you ruined it for me. you ruined my game, y/n."

you closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sharp words and the blanket of burden that harin enveloped you with.

you just wished harin would go back to being curious and playful, and leave you ignorant to the fact that deep down, she was the monster dayeon had implied many months ago.

with a weak voice, you tried to reason. "i didn't mean to..."

"you didn't-" harin backed away, ripping the smoke from her lips and into her fingertips. "give me your hand."

your eyes widened.

"harin-"

she grabbed your wrist with a surprising amount of strength. her nails dug into your arm, your teeth grinding together at the dull pain. the heat of the cigarette hovered over your palm as you struggled to pull back, and you couldn't help but choke out a strangled gasp.

"harin, wait-"

the smell of flesh burning invaded your senses as your arm shook from the pain. lightning seemed to replace your veins, as a fire replaced your blood. your vision fuzzed, the tears in your eyes falling down your chin.

harin glanced at you, a small smile replacing her grimace. you were always so pretty when you were in pain.

"remember this." she threw her smoke onto the ground, her grip on your wrist tightening. "you mess with my game, you upset me. you don't want that to happen again, do you?"

the last thing you wanted was to see harin frown in your direction.

"no."

harin smiled, glancing at how your lips quivered and how your eyes held an intoxicating mixture of fear and want. quietly, she wiped a tear with her free hand, chuckling as you flinched at her touch.

"then stay away from seong suji." she leaned in, her voice soft except for the threatening undertone. "if i see you even look at her without my permission, i'll make your life hell."

her grip loosened, harin's eyes softening as she looked at you with what seemed to be worry and understanding.

"i..." you blinked, agreeing like an obedient dog. even now, you couldn't help but wonder which harin was the real harin, but all you knew was that you didn't want to disappoint her. "i understand."

harin sighed, glancing at the burn in your hand with contempt. "i don't like doing this to you."

you paused, your face brightening as the smell of tobacco stuck to your blazer.

"you don't?"

harin smiled. it was like catching a mouse in a well placed trap. you were predictable and easy to please. a couple right words and you'd be under her spell all over again.

"you think i do?" the heiress frowned, biting her tongue.

she loved it.

"no..."

with a giggle, she took your wrist, much more gently than before.

"let's get you patched up."

harin liked putting on lipgloss around you.

she liked the way your eyes darted to her mouth for a split second before they looked anywhere else in the room. the redness of your cheeks delighted her in the sense that she knew that no matter what, you'd be stuck under her thumb.

you were her stupid, little puppet. your strings strong and unwavering, and your heart tainted with a loved one that you thought she didn't see.

it was adorable, like a puppy chasing its own tail, or a whale, no longer strong enough to go up for air.

harin liked to send you on mindless errands.

it was a good way to keep you in check, much better than instilling fear. she could sense that someone like you liked to feel needed, even if it's something as simple as fetching her more of her favorite brand of smokes or picking up items that she used for bribery.

it gave her a good laugh when you would come back, beaming as if you accomplished something when in reality, one of her maids could have easily done the same.

you were none the wiser, currently on your way to getting her more coffee (well, to get doah coffee per harin's demand).

you were just about to leave the campus, but a strong yet gentle hand yanked you aside, dragging you out of sight from the windows of the complex.

"sorry, y/n-ah."

you tried to shake her off, but she was too strong.

"jaeun, let go." why was she doing this? more importantly, why was she taking you to the nearby convenience store. "i can't be talking to you. you know that."

jaeun stopped, and you thought that she had finally gotten tired of you complaining so much. instead, you looked at the scene in front of you, two girls sitting in the shade of a foldable umbrella.

harin was gonna burn you alive.

"harin's pet?" jaehyeong shook her head, staring at the taller girl beside you. "jaeun-ie, are you sick? do you have a fever?"

you frowned. you weren't 'harin's pet'. so what if you liked being around her?

"she's nice." jaeun muttered, ushering you to the other girls. you tried to turn away, but she moved you in such a way that you couldn't escape. "she helped suji out."

"that was a mistake."

suji raised an eyebrow. she didn't know what was wrong with you. how could someone change so much in a matter of two months?

her eyes wandered your figure, stopping at the burns that littered your right hand.

oh. that makes sense.

"hey, y/n-ah."

"yerim?" you turned around, your jaw hanging open as the trainee sat with the girls, sipping on a can of coffee. you glanced at her phone, watching as she scrolled through eunjeong's instagram. "what the hell is going on?"

you looked around, their eyes glancing at suji with hesitation.

"you're not gonna convince her, suji." yerim shook her head.

being in rank 'a' herself, she knew firsthand how you followed every word harin said. she could tell from a mile away what it was, yerim herself victim to the feeling with a certain swimmer.

but there was a difference between the two of you, one that could prove to be detrimental.

you needed someone to follow, while she didn't.

"i can." suji glanced at your hand again. "i know i can."

"convince me?"

you felt a lump in your throat, praying that somehow, in some way, harin would come barging in and save you from whatever was going on here.

you took a deep breath, and sensing danger was near, gripped your wrist for safety.

jaeun frowned.

"i was serious about bringing down the game, y/n."

the pyramid game.

that stupid game that harin focused all her energy into, hellbent on keeping the perfect hierarchy intact. the one where you watched your classmates get beaten to a pulp, bloody and broken to the point of mental disarray.

you had never spoken it out loud, but you were tired of it, watching everyone you know either do the hurting or get hurt (most times both).

but this was harin's game, and you'd rather hurt yourself than upset the girl you loved.

"harin'll be pissed."

yerim chuckled, a knowing smile on her face. she didn't expect anything less from you.

"aren't you?" suji glanced at your hand, one you held for dear life, as if you were afraid it would get burned again. "after everything you've done for her, she still burns you."

you frowned.

harin did it with good reason. she needed to keep you in line, to keep you from lashing out. she did this to you because, unlike wooyi or dayeon, she trusted you enough to understand.

harin did it out of the pureness of her heart.

"that was an accident."

"an accident?" suji could feel your doubt starting to seep through. that was enough for her, to see the light beyond the cracks of your love. "hurting you multiple times the same way was an accident?"

was it an accident? it had to be, otherwise, harin was just hurting you to hurt you.

you shook the thought out of your head, missing the way the girls looked at each other, satisfied.

"what do you want, seong suji?"

there was a beat in the air.

"join us."

she knew. how did she know?

"no, i just..."

you liked harin, even when she suffocated you with her smoke, staining your white shirt with the ash of her cigarettes. her eyes wandered yours routinely, and it felt as if she was trying to dig deep as if she needed you.

"i figured out a way to get to them."

harin's eyes sparkled. she would have never thought that you, docile and timid, would ever think of something other than her and school.

it was... exhilarating.

"sim eunjeong." you rattled out a breath, your eyes clenching at the very thought of what you were doing. "yerim... likes her more than we think."

the heiress laughed, the excitement in her chest bursting at the thought of you ignoring your morals just to please her and only her.

she leaned close to you, her face in front of yours as she moved a single lock of hair behind your ear. shivers ran up your spine.

"do you feel bad, y/n-ah?" harin hadn't felt this happy in a while. "ratting them out to me must be so heavy on your consciousness."

she looked you up and down, your eyes avoiding hers. your cheeks were tinged in red, and the guilt written all over your face didn't help the giddiness that was starting to overtake her.

"you're fun, y/n."

you'd do anything for her, even when she hurt you. even when everyone screamed and yelled at you to leave, ignoring the bright red stop signs.

"i like you."

> main masterlist.

[lundenloves]

Dad!Simon reacting to his oldest daughter having a small crush on a boy at school! Overprotective dad!simon having to be scary (ofc not towards his lil family) but in private with Wife!Reader he’s emotional because his little girl is growing up 😭😭 fluff mix with tiny angst

Thx! Love ya Dad Simon series 🖤

dad!simon masterlist | taglist

ANON! This mf would get migraines over the idea of his sweet little baby girl and a boy. I’ve had quite a few asks about this, all along the same lines (crush, boyfriend etc) so just decided to make one of all of them. Unless someone wants something dead specific, shout me!

Everyone grab your binoculars as we observe from a safe distance.

He almost choked on his drink, dropping the glass to the counter with a cringe inducing clink. One that echoed around the now silent kitchen as his eyes caught onto his wife’s. “A what?”

His eldest daughter threw her arms in the air in battle of her mother. “Why would you even say anything to him, oh my god.” She groaned frustratedly, attempting to storm away but cut short when Simon had cleared his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me.” He leant his palm on the kitchen counter, looking down at the girl who was slowly growing to look like her mother instead of him. “What’s his name?”

“Because you’re like this.” She gestured to him, whining a sigh and turning to her mother. “Tell him, mum. He always gets involved.”

Simon laughed, balling his hand into a fist and habitually hitting down on the counter with his movement. “I’m only asking, love.” His arms then crossed over his chest, feet a length apart from another. “What age is he?”

“See!” She shot a hand toward him, widening her eyes at you. “He can’t help it.”

“Well, I need to know what—“

“Simon.” You held a hand out to silence him, a slight tilt of your head telling him to let go. “Invite him for dinner, darling.” The warmth in your voice made Simon itch from the other side of the counter, a half-hearted glare piercing into you over what you had just asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You knew exactly why.

“Because dad will just fu- interrogate him.” She left the room, walking down the hall as she continued, “Which he doesn’t even get to do. He’s never here anyway!” Her words were spat out and Simon tsked, turning back to you when she had stomped up the stairs.

“He’s her age.” You said quietly.

“You knew?” He whisper-shouted as you took a step toward him.

“Of course I knew.” He humphed when you had wrapped your arms around him, humming into his chest. “That’s what mothers are for.” A long sigh left him at that, pulling back from you and rubbing a hand through his hair and down his face visibly stressed.

“I need a cigarette.”

“It was always going to happen, Simon.” You smiled, following him outside and nudging his shoulder playfully. “Leave her be. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He eyed you through a sideward glance.

“She’s not going to get pregnant.”

“If she’s with a little rat—“

“Stop.”

He lit his cigarette, taking a long inhale before shrugging. “That kid is not stepping one foot into this house.” The smoke escaped his mouth with each word, creating a momentary cloud around him. “Not when i’m here.”

“She’s growing up.”

“Too fast.” Simon shook his head with another long drag, the two of them stood in silence.

Being a father to a teenage girl was a new era of problems. Ones he was yet to even learn about never-mind tackle, and this was apparently one of them. The boyfriend dilemma. He was not immune to the dad feelings, resulting in many a phone call to Johnny who somehow knew everything. The man didn’t even have a family.

“Just invite the kid, see what happens. He’s hardly going to pull out an M9.”

“I’m not having him ‘round.”

“She can go to his then.”

“No she fucking can’t.”

In result, he was invited over. On one condition with his daughter, so was uncle Johnny.

Him and Simon were stood in the kitchen when the scrawny kid walked in. You had convinced your husband that holding his knife wasn’t a great idea, twirling it around his fingers before forcefully sticking it into the chopping board.

“Alright, son.” Johnny slapped a hand onto the kids back, ultimately welcoming him but also shoving him toward Simon.

“Sorry. That’s my uncle.” His daughter would point with her eyes, steering him away from her dad and to the seat furthest away. Many a death-stare had been shot across the table toward her father, all returned of course if it wasn’t for you stomping on Simon’s foot underneath it.

It was a mess, to say the least. Bar Johnny’s flamboyant stories that kept at least a drop of fun.

this was supposed to be a lot shorter but LMAOO you can’t convince me ghost wouldn’t recruit soap in this whole thing. THIS is canon. so many thoughts, such little brain.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugaduu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog

if you weren’t tagged i couldn’t get your blog!

[writingoddess1125]

So annoying

Crocodile and adopted child Reader

Platonic Adopted Child

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Stepping from the bar Crocodile glanced around him, he was here for business and hated having to meet in places like this. Disgusting.

His goons who were all chattering around him being kiss-asses in trying to keep their bosses attention. As he walked down the street he heard a scuffle from the alley next to the bar, glancing as he passed by.

Pausing for barely a second he saw a shadow of a small child give a hard punch to the cheek of one of the goons who had stepped out earlier then him, making the man stumble slightly before the child darted into a sewage drain to hide.

The goon quickly rushing back to the posey- ignoring the taunts from others at being punched by a homeless child. Him ranting at coming back and teaching them 'manners' for the hit.

Why waste his time on some children?- he had seen and done worse afterall.. and if one of his goons got bested by a dirty hungry child it made him question them more then anything...

As they continued to walk down the street he heard some soft bare feet hitting the cobblestone again- assuming it was another child prepared to throw a rock or-

"Hey Mister!" A loud voice shrilled- despite its lightness he could hear a rumble of toughness there, he glanced back and saw the child from the alleyway the one who had punched one of his goons and hid in the sewer drain. She looked around 5 if Crocodile had to guess now getting a full look at them-

"You're guy that's next to you is a fucking asshole Mister!" The little girl yelled as she pointed to the man to his left- hearing one of his accomplices choking back a laugh at hearing this from such a small child. How she knew he was the one in charge also caught his eye, she must have been watching him too...

"Hey listen here you little shit!-" The goon that she had attacked earlier step forward angrily, Crocodile holding his hooked hand up to stop him.

"Hm?" He raised a brow curious of the girls words, nodding for her to continue.

"He likes to come here and push around us kids on the street, That and he tried to piss on us! You're a grown man yet you're acting like some perverted asshole!" She yelled as she pointed to his goon angrily, who was now red in the face as the rest stared at the child in shock and almost horror.

"Brave.. Very Brave child you are" Crocodile hummed as he stared down at the little girl, a look of amusement going across his features as he stepped towards her- Staring at the mats in her hair, how dirty her clothes were and overall clear abuse from elements. She steeled herself as he approached, her little fist balled tightly and eyes glaring up at him like she was prepared for a fight.

"What is your name child?" He questioned,

"I don't got one" She said confidently and harshly, like a little gangster. He chuckled at this and squatted down so he was closer to her eyelevel.

He tapped his chin for a moment and removing the cigar from his lips and blowing a cloud of smoke to the side as he stared down at her.

"How annoying.. Hm.. (Y/N) then- that is your name from now on" He said calmly and with a nod, His large hand reaching out and grabbing her by the scruff of her shirt and placing her under his arm like one would do with a Puppy before standing back up.

"H-Hey what are you doing Mister!?" She yelled in surprise as he just picked her up with ease and without care, The goons around him stating in shock.

"I'm keeping you- Don't most orphans want to he adopted? Quite an odd child" He mussed as he carried her, glancing down to see her face twisted up and eyes narrowed.

"Most people don't just grab children and adopt them so Quite an odd man-" She shot back, breaking a laugh from the man.

"Boss you're keeping that street rat?" One of the goons strilled, the one that (Y/N) had called a asshole.

"Ah yes that reminds me-" He grumbled as a wave of sand smashed into the goon, like a miniature sand storm that swept him down the street knocked out and like he had his skin sandblasted off.

(Y/N) looked at this in awe, unafraid of the clearly dangerous man who had just adopted her.

"Wow Mister- That was pretty cool!"

Crocodile couldn't help but smirk, Defiently a annoying child.

[lovelybucky1]

Ego (rockstar!anakin x reader)

warnings: band!au, AFAB!reader, spitting, light choking, praise, degradation, (mentioned) exhibitionism, (mentioned) public sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, m!receiving oral sex, rough sex, smoking, consumption of alcohol, anakin is kind of an asshole in his, but he loves you

masterlist

The concert was explosive. Your ears still ring from the deafening bass from the speakers next to the stage and your nose is filled with the scent of smoke and sulfur from the fireworks that lit off during the last song.

You push through the flow of the bustling crowd leaving the venue, as you make your way up to the stage. You climb over the barrier and skip up the stairs. You slip behind the curtain and walk through the backstage area to the back exit.

The roadies are wheeling the band’s equipment to the bus and are packing it up to be transported to the next city overnight. You cut in front of the train of carts and equipment and run towards the bus, your stiletto heels clicking on the wet pavement.

When you reach the door, you find it already open. You walk up the few stairs and find yourself standing in a cloud of cigarette smoke. The band is lounged on the leather couches, each with a bottle and a cigarette in either hand. Everyone cheers when they notice you; they all love you.

“There they are!” Kit exclaims.

Ahsoka, the newest addition to the band and the youngest of the group at 19, giggles loudly at something on her phone, obviously a little intoxicated.

You greet them all as you walk towards the couch towards your boyfriend. Anakin is lounging lazily on the couch, his feet kicked up on the arm of the couch, with a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He looks up at you as you walk by, eyes half-lidded and a little glazed. He smiles slowly as he takes in your outfit: tight pants, his band’s shirt cut and distressed into something very revealing, and high heels.

Anakin is wearing something of similar style: a sweat-stained dark gray t-shirt, black distressed skinny jeans, and large black boots that make him even taller. His piercings glitter in the low light, and his smudged eyeliner makes your knees weak.

“Hey, baby,” he grins, reaching his hand out to grab your waist.

“Hey, Ani,” you laugh as he guides you into his lap.

He puts his cigarette in his mouth to free his other hand to touch you. With a smirk, he pulls you up his body so you’re straddling his waist.

“The show was amazing tonight,” you say.

“God, it was,” he says, closing his eyes and grinning as he reminisces on the night.

There’s nothing Anakin loves more than attention. He’s the front man of the band, always has all eyes on him. Everyone in the crowd cheers for him, is there to see him, wants him. As much as Anakin loves to play his music, he loves the ego trip even more.

“Everyone loved you.”

“It was electric. I can still feel it,” Anakin said with a groan.

Being on stage turns all of Anakin’s emotions up to eleven, and he rides that high for a long while after the concert. Like now, he’s looking up at you with lust blown eyes and you can feel his cock growing harder underneath you.

“Don’t be a diva, Ani, they loved all of us,” Ahsoka chimes in.

“Please, if Kit’s ugly ass was our front man, that venue would be empty,” Anakin huffs. “Everyone wants what they can’t have, so they’ll buy songs and tickets and all the other stupid shit we come up with just so they can get a taste of what it’d be like to have me.”

“If your head gets any bigger, it’ll pop,” Aayla rolls her eyes.

“Well,” Anakin swings his legs around so his feet are back on the floor, keeping you in his lap. “In that case, I better make good use of my time before I get my brains all over the bus.”

Anakin places his hands under your thighs and stands up. You wrap your arms and legs around him and hold on tightly, your faces just inches apart.

“Ugh,” Ahsoka groans.

With a wide grin, Anakin walks you back to the bedroom at the back of the bus. It’s a large bed that Anakin has claimed since he put them on the map, much to the other’s annoyance. Anakin kicks open the door and takes one long stride before he’s dropping you down on your back atop the bed.

He shuts the door and makes quick work of shedding his sweaty t-shirt. His abs ripple when he puts his arms down and you find yourself staring at the tattoos that litter his abdomen, chest, and arms. You reach out to trace the stars mirrored on each of his hip bones, those being your favorite tattoos of his.

He looks down at you with exhaustion-heavy eyes, the liquor he undoubtedly had, not helping. Despite how tired he is, he needs to get the leftover adrenaline out of his system.

“You’re not even gonna let me kiss you first?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow.

“You taste like cigarettes.”

“That’s how I got you addicted to me in the first place,” he smirks as he reaches up to graze his thumb over your jaw.

“Trust me, that’s not what got me addicted.”

“No? Then what was?” he smiles as he waits for an answer. “My money? My fame? My dick?”

You roll your eyes. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

Anakin grins as he bends down to kiss you. He smashes your lips together in a rough, passionate kiss. He does taste like cigarettes, as well as alcohol and something that is so distinctly Anakin.

“I’m so fucking horny for you,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss finally breaks. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting such blunt words. “I was thinking about you the whole goddamn time.”

“What were you thinking about?” you ask curiously, your face still inches away from his, looking at his stained mouth from your lipstick.

“Bringing you up on stage and taking you in front of everybody,” he confesses as his hands travel from your neck down to your torso.

“I think that’d make the fangirls jealous.”

“Good. Let them be jealous. Let them see how good I can give it.”

Anakin stands up straight and you bring your hands up to work at Anakin’s pants; unzipping the fly and pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to spring free. It almost his you in the face as the pink tip bobs tantalizingly in front of you. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to put your mouth around it.

“It’s not gonna suck itself,” he smirks as he guides your head towards his length with a hand in your hair.

Once you get your mouth on his dick, he loosens his hold on you and allows you to go at your own pace. His voice is already a little hoarse from performing tonight, and the added gravel to his moans make your head spin as you listen below him.

“Fuck, they’d be so jealous. I’d take you up there and let you suck my dick in the middle of a song, just like this.”

Anakin tilts his head back in a groan as you flick your tongue around the tip.

Your mouth waters aroud his length, and after a few bobs of your head, drool is leaking from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. Anakin loves when you get messy like this, especially when your dark lipstick leaves prints at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he groans.

Anakin threads his fingers through your hair and holds you tightly, not directing you, just making sure you feel it.

You take him all the way into your throat and look up at him with glassy eyes as you gag around him. Anakin loves the feeling of your throat contracting as you struggle not to gag; it feeds his ego knowing that his dick is too big even for someone so well trained.

Anakin feels like orgasm nearing, so he pulls you off by your hair so he does not finish too quickly.

You sit back on your knees and wipe your face with the back of your hand. You look sinful underneath him like this; lipstick smudged and eye makeup running from tears.

“Come up here, baby,” he says, taking your hand and tugging you to your feet. You put your arms around his neck and look up at him, feeling small in his arms. “I want you to give me some marks. I want something to show off tomorrow,” he grins.

You lean in to latch your lips onto his pec, sucking the smooth skin that covers the hard muscle into your mouth. You suck firmly, pinching thr skin between your teeth as you do. A satisfied hum rumbles through his chest when you pull away and he sees the dark red mark you left on his pale skin.

Before long, his chest, collarbone, neck, and abdomen are littered with similar sized hickeys. After each one you left, he reached down to press his fingers into the forming bruise, just to feel the dull pain.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Anakin says, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close so your hips are pressed flush to his.

“Then why don’t you fuck me?”

“Is that how you ask for it?” he asks with a smirk.

“No, but I have a feeling you’ll give it to me either way.”

Anakin chuckles as he slides his hands up your sides, pushing your shirt up as he does. You raise your arms above your head and he pulls it off, revealing your lace bra underneath.

Anakin’s eyes darken even more as he takes in the sight of the delicate black lace over your perfect tits. It’s beautiful, and Anakin was to destroy it. He grabs each cup firmly in his large hands and pulls, ripping the pretty bra down the center.

“What the fuck?” you gasp. “That was expensive!”

“You bought it with my money, didn’t you?”

You glare at him. “Yes, but-”

“Then I should be able to do whatever I want with it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you huff as your shrug off the scraps of your ruined bra.

His hands move to the front of your jeans, but you swat them away before he can ruin anymore of your clothes. While you take your pants off, he does the same.

Now, you’re both standing in the tour bus bedroom, completely bare to each other’s gazes.

“Turn around,” Anakin orders.

“Make me,” you challenge.

He gives you an unimpressed stare before he grabs your hips and spins you around. He pushes you so you lay face down on the bed, but you do not stay there. You prop yourself up on your elbows and just as you look back at him, his long fingers slide through your wet folds.

“Soaked for me, huh?” Anakin chuckles.

“Don’t tease me, Ani.”

Anakin eases two fingers into you, curling them along the way to find the spot inside you that makes you clench.

“Or what? We both know you can’t resist anything I do to you.”

You hate that he’s right, but whatever annoyance that was building inside of you quickly disappated as he began to move his fingers in and out of you.

Anakin didn’t spend long opening you up before he replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock.

He did tease you; he slapped your pussy with it before giving you just the slightest amout, enough to stretch but not enough to fill.

“It’s not enough,” you whine.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” he says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “You want more?”

“Yes, please.”

Anakin grips your hips firmly, then slides all the way in. That’s how Anakin goes about everything: all or nothing. You cry out as you adjust to the intrusion, but he doesn’t give you much time befote he starts to rut into you.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Your pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asks.

“Yes, yes, it’s yours,” you whimper.

With each stroke, the sound of his hips hitting your ass fill the room is sharp claps. You can feel the tip of his cock in your stomach after every thrust in, and it punches the air out of your lungs. Anakin fucks you hard and fast, his fingers digging into your hips which will surely bruise.

After a while of this position, Anakin wraps his forearm around your middle and pulls you up so you’re standing, trapped between him and the bed.

His large hand presses on your lower abdomen so he can feel each thrust of his cock inside you, and because he knows the added pressure will make it so much better for you. Anakin hooks his chin over your shoulder and presses his mouth to your ear so he can whisper.

“I fuckin’ own this pussy, got that? I own you.”

Your stomach flips at his vulgar words and you lean your head back on his shoulder and moan.

Anakin can’t help himself when he sees your mouth open wide for him. He reaches up and hooks his finger in your cheek to hold it open, then spits. Some of it lands on your cheeks and lips, but most of it lands on your tongue.

“Swallow that,” he says, his breath hot on your ear.

You do as he said, swallowing his spit obediently. It’s hot and dirty and everything you love, all at once. It’s overwhelming, overstimulating, and unless Anakin physically stops you, you’re going to cum soon.

“You’re so fuckin’ good for me. Bet you’d let me fuck you like this on stage, huh? Serve me while everyone is cheering for me like I’m God.”

Anakin’s voice is low and rough, obviously growing more desperate with each stroke. He pushes you forward and you brace yourself on the bed with your arms. He leans over your back and licks a hot strike over your sweaty neck before sinking his sharp teeth into the tender skin under your ear.

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain from Anakin’s teeth in your skin. You’re sure it will leave a crescent bruise behind, but you can’t bring yourself to mind right now.

“Let me cum inside you,” he says in your ear.

Finding your words to be lost, you nod, giving him permission to claim you. He makes a noise akin to a growl as his thrusts start to pick up in speed. They become more erratic as he nears closer to his orgasm, and yours slowly builds along with his.

He grabs your hips and thrusts deep inside you, then holds you flush to him as he pumps his load into you. The feeling of his hot cum flooding your insides makes your eyes roll back, and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder. He grabs your throat and presses his lips to your temple.

“Cum around my cock. I want to feel you.”

His other hand reaches down between your legs and begins to toy with your clit. The feeling of his fingers rubbing you in just the right way, his still-hard cock inside you, along with his cum leaking down your pussy work together to throw you over the edge.

You whimper as you begin to cum. Your knees feel weak as your lower stomach blooms with warmth and pleasure.

Anakin revels in the feeling of your walls convulsing around his sensitive dick. If he hadn’t already cum, your pussy would be milking him like this. Once you’ve finished riding out your high, Anakin pulls out of you and lays you down on the bed before joining next to you.

He turns you around so you're facing away from him and he spoons you, pulling your back to his sweaty chest.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” he whispers.

“Felt so good,” you reply quietly.

Anakin’s cum is still leaking from between your legs, but neither of you care right now. You’re both exhausted, wrung out from sex and the busy day before this.

“Hey,” Anakin says, breaking the silence in the room.

“Hey.”

“Tomorrow night after the show, I’m gonna marry you.”

“What?” you gasp, turning around in his arms.

“I want to make it official. Make sure that everyone knows I’m off the market. That you’re the only one who actually gets any real part of me.”

Anakin may have a reputation of being a diva, an egotistical superstar, which isn’t necessarily untrue, but like this, in private with you, he’s tender, loving, and real.

“So what do you say?” he asks, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

You smile wide and bring him in to kiss. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say against his lips.

He kisses you again, deeply, as he confesses all of his love for you with a physical act.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if you’ll get hate from Anakin’s fans for stealing their celebrity crush from them, but you shrug that thought off. On stage, he may belong to everyone, but here, he’s only yours.

[mrsriddles-blog]

Mania | T.N

Pairing: Theodore Nott X Slytherin Fem Reader

WC: 5.5k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, slow-burn, drugs...

Summary: In which you are Theodore Nott's mania...

“Mattheo Riddle…Tom Riddle and Y/n Riddle…hm, I believe this is the first time I’ve had all three Riddle’s in my class this year at once. It’s good of you to finally show up for your lessons, triplets.” Professor Umbridge says.

“We are more than happy to grace you with our presence.” Mattheo says cheekily.

“I don’t believe I asked for your input.” She says, looking over him once.

“I don’t believe we asked for yours.” Mattheo says.

“Matt.” Tom warns quietly.

“That’s it, detention! All three of you.” She snaps. 

“I didn’t say anything! I was trying to shut him up!” Tom snaps annoyed.

“Mr. Riddle, would you like to make that two days of detention?” She asks.

Tom clenches his jaw, glowering at her as he chooses silence. His gaze slips over to Mattheo who smiles lazily at him. You were already working on your assignment from her. You pause, feeling a presence near you as a shadow casts over your parchment. 

“I’m surprised you’ve got nothing to say Ms. Riddle.” She says. 

You slowly look up, looking at her blankly. She smiles as if she were delighted that you had no reaction, nor no words. She reaches out, grabs your wrist and looks at the scars on your hand from her punishment. 

“If only you Riddle’s could learn to behave.” She tsks.

“She hasn’t even said anything!” Draco defends.

“Malfoy, would you also like to join the Riddle’s in detention?” She asks and he stays silent.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably as the air shifted. You pull your wrist free from her, immediately wringing your hands together as Mattheo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You need to calm down. Everyone is feeling your magic.” He mutters. 

That didn’t help your case. In fact, it made you feel more anxious, so you stood and packed up your stuff before leaving the classroom quickly. You knew you were going to be in loads of trouble because of your father, but it didn’t quite matter to you. 

“Skipping Umbridge’s class, too?” Theodore asks, standing at the top of the Astronomy Tower, smoking.   

“My magic started to get the best of me. It made the room get that uncomfortable feel and I couldn’t control it, so I left. And I got detention for Mattheo’s smart mouth.” You mumble, standing next to him.

“Sounds like Mattheo, but Umbridge also holds a grudge against you and your brothers simply for who your father is.” He says. 

“I know, but it’s exhausting. We share one last name, and suddenly I’m hated and feared. I may share the same views, but I don’t agree with the way things have been handled.” You sigh.

You relax as he throws his arm over your shoulder. You allow yourself to lean into his warmth more, the chilly air beginning to affect you. 

You always found yourself comfortable in Theodore’s presence. Yes, he was the dark, gloomy, brooding bad boy everyone warns you away from, but you found solace in his presence. Unbeknownst to you, you were the sunshine in Theodore’s life. Anytime you walked in a room, those gloomy looming clouds parted and allowed him to bask in your light. 

Theodore was quiet, understanding, methodical, logical, and calm. His presence soothed you more than you’d like to admit. You were quiet, but one wrong word being said could set your fiery tongue ablaze. No one could ever reign you back, no one, but Theodore Nott. The moment he’d whisper in your ear or rest a hand on the small of your back always sent you quiet. It was like a wave of tranquility washing over you. 

“Y/n! What were you thinking? Now you're going to be kept longer.” Mattheo hissed as he stormed into the room with your friends and Tom not far behind.

“I needed to leave. My magic was making you all uncomfortable and it didn’t help with you telling me to calm down. I knew I needed to calm down, I don’t need you adding to that stress.” You say, pulling free from Theodore’s comfortable hold as you step towards your seething brother.

“We don’t have the time for this nonsense! Father has given us our respected duties.” He snaps, pointing a finger at you.

“Nonsense? Are you trying to twist the blame on me once more? We are in this mess because you’ve got no self-control! And father can take those duties and shove them up his ass!” You exclaim, the room buzzing with your magic.

Mattheo feels a shock in the air between the two of you, causing him to take several steps back. You were the only one to develop magic like this which happened to be otherworldly. It was known to be chaos magic, something that didn’t have much research behind it. 

“You can’t say things like that! He’ll find out!” He snaps.

“Let him. I’m tired of us hiding behind him like cowards!” You snap.

Your eyes flickered to a glowing green, something they hadn’t ever done before as you began to levitate slightly—another thing you hadn’t ever done.

Your father loved and hated your magic. He loved that it was his child who possessed such rare and unique abilities. But, he hated it because it meant you were stronger than him. So, anytime your magic began to go haywire because of your emotions, he’d be quick to lock you away so you could reign it in. You’ve never gotten a chance to experiment with your powers to see what you were capable of. 

“Y/n/n, you need to calm down.” Mattheo warns, putting his hands up in surrender.

Your heart aches seeing the fear in his eyes. You see his hand inching to his wand and your lip trembles, tilting your head slightly as your eyes well with tears. You glance around the room to see your friends inching behind your brothers, fear on their faces. Tom steps up next to Mattheo, nudging him behind him as he shakily points his wand at you. 

“Expelliarmus!” Theodore shouts, standing in front of you. 

He catches Tom’s wand, glaring at the group. 

“She is your bloody sister! Our friends! She wouldn’t hurt you even if she wanted to! Can’t you see you both are hurting her! In fact, all of you are.” He snaps. 

Your feet touch the ground as your eyes flicker back to normal. Theodore turns to you. He steps forward, but you step back as you slowly shake your head. 

“P-Please don’t…I d-don’t want to hurt you.” You whisper.

“You won’t hurt me, love. Come here.” He murmurs.

You don’t move as he slowly steps towards you like you were a timid doe. His arms wrap around you, his hand cradling your head as he inhales deeply as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Your arms slowly wind around his waist, your hands shaking. 

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You whisper.

“Darling, you didn’t do nothin’ wrong. You’ve never gotten the chance to know your magic and we know that. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” He murmurs. 

You were quiet, your shaky hands fisting the back of his shirt. He kisses your clothed shoulder, ignorant to your brothers’ anger towards him touching you. But, they knew that you were upset with them now. It was Theodore out of your friends and brothers who defended you. 

You slowly pull away, stepping back. 

“I wanna leave, Teddy.” You whisper.

“Come on, love.” He murmurs, gently grabbing your hand as he shields you from your brothers and friends as he guides you elsewhere.

“Where is she, Nott? She is our bloody sister.” Tom seethes.

“You guys really don’t see what you guys did to her, do you?” He asks, laughing sarcastically as your friend group quiets, 

“What?” Mattheo asks, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, she is a Riddle. But, she is by far the most empathetic, caring, and loving one of you all. She hides it well, yes, and when you all acted as if she were some…monster, you hurt her. You broke one of the most compassionate, loving, and caring hearts you could break. She loves each and every one of you deeply. You all are her family, yet you all had to be fools. She doesn’t know what she is capable of. She feels as if it’s a curse. I think it makes her unique and that she could do some amazing things if she were allowed to test her powers out. You all owe her an apology. Even then, I don’t think it’ll be enough. She is so scared of hurting somebody. Dumbledore is now aware of her magic as she has locked herself away in her room and won’t come out. He’s been trying to help her understand it while getting her work for her classes.” Theodore explains, his cheeks flushed red with anger.

It was silent amongst the friends and her brothers. He stood there a moment before leaving to let them let that settle. Maybe they’ll feel guilty, or maybe they’ll feel nothing. But, it deserved to be said. 

“Y/n/n?” Theodore asks, surprised.

“I decided hiding away wasn’t doing me any good. It just allowed me more time to overthink. I’m going to try going to all my classes today.” You say softly.

You were sitting on the windows ledge, kicking your feet back and forth. It did make Theodore’s heart rate pick up, because one wrong move, you’d be plummeting to the ground. 

“I’ll be fine, Teddy.” You say softly.

“Huh?” He asks.

“I learned I can read minds and memories with my magic.” You say.

He smiles, happy to see you growing more comfortable with your abilities now that it’s no secret with the Headmaster who was more than happy to help you learn what abilities you possessed and what you could do. 

You climb off the ledge, walking to Theodore before the two of you made it your guys’ first class. You take a seat, ignoring Umbridge’s prying eyes. 

“Nice of you to join us, Ms. Riddle. I honestly hoped you had left Hogwarts.” She said. 

You chose silence, focusing on the board. You had always lived in silence before, so why change that now? It wouldn’t get you anywhere. Simply glancing into her mind allowed you to see her next move and you were left unfazed as her hands slammed on your desk as she was in front of you. 

“Answer me, Ms. Riddle. Haven’t you heard it’s impolite to ignore your professors?” She asks.

“Sorry, Professor Umbridge, I’m unsure of what I am answering.” You say.

“Where have you been?” She asks.

“Ill.” You reply shortly.

“You would’ve been fine within a few days. It’s been six weeks.” She snaps.

“If you’d like, you can owl Headmaster Dumbledore. He was a great help as he helped me recover.” You answer.

The doors open and in walk your brothers, but your gaze never leaves Umbridge’s. She scoffs, looking offended and you question what you had done.

“That’s it. Write lines. Write, “I will not give attitude.”” She snaps, throwing the quill a pad of paper on your desk. 

You stare at it, not wanting to write lines. You don’t want the nasty scars it leaves behind. You faintly heard her scolding you and demanding you write lines. 

“What exactly is she writing lines for, Professor, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mattheo asks, trying his hardest to sound polite. 

“Literally nothing.” Theodore mutters from behind you.

“What was that, Mr. Nott?” Umbridge asks. 

“Professor, may I go to the matron? I feel unwell.” You murmur.

“Write your lines first.” She snaps.

You reach a hand out for the quill, trying to suppress the shakiness as you grab it. You take a breath in before letting it out as you begin to write, allowing your magic to inflict it upon her instead of you. 

She gasps, lifting her hand to see the words your writing appear on her hand. She storms over to you, snatching the quill. You roll your eyes up to hers, feigning confusion. 

“What did you do? You insolent brat!” She shouts, shaking her hand to wave out the pain which did nothing.

“Nothing, ma’am. What happened?” You ask. 

The class gets up, you not realizing how much time had passed as they left. Your friends and brothers stayed seated. 

“Leave! Besides you Ms. Riddle.” She seethes. 

“Nope.” Mattheo says, popping the p.

“Crucio!” She shouts. 

You gasp as Tom pushes Mattheo out of the way, taking the hit. He falls to the ground, his jaw clenched. You fall to your knees beside him, your eyes watery. 

“T-Tom? Hold on.” You whisper.

You cry out, fall to your side as her next spell hit you. Sectumsempra. 

“What the hell are you doing!?” Draco shouts.

Your eyes turn green as a wave of green leaves you. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut as you fight for control. 

“Guys! It’s going to be okay. Pansy and Enz ran to get Professor Snape. Blaise and Draco ran for Headmaster Dumbledore. Just…just hold on, please.” Mattheo pleads, take one of your hands, and one of Tom’s.

His eyes were watering, seeing his older brother by minutes and baby sister by minutes in so much pain.

“Tom, you idiot. Why’d you do that? And Y/n/n…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you. I never meant to do that. I love you so much and I couldn’t have asked for anyone else as a sister. I love you so much.” He says. 

You feel a wave of tiredness wash over you as you continue to lose more blood. Your eyes flutter open, only to close again as you pass out. Tom was trying to sit up, only to be pushed down by Mattheo.

“Stay still.” He scolds.

“Y/n/n…check.” He grits out.

Mattheo turns to you, realizing your hand had gone limp in his. He shakes you urgently as fears of you dying filled his head. You let a little whimper of pain out which allowed him to feel calmer and to stop shaking you. 

“Alright, move away so that we can help them.” Dumbledore says, hurrying in. 

“I c-can’t leave them. They need me.” Mattheo says.

“We got him.” Theodore says quietly.

“Go.” Tom grits out. 

“No! I’m not leaving you both!” He snaps.

Theodore, Blaise, and Enzo somehow managed to drag him out, Pansy and Draco following after in case they needed back-up in getting Mattheo back to the Common Room. 

“You both are weak.” Voldemort says. 

After your “mother”, Bellatrix, received a letter of what happened, a meeting was summoned. Your friends stared down at the table, along with their parents as they felt they were intruding. Tom and you were to stand, looking at him.

“Father, it was my fault.” You say, ignoring Tom’s sharp glare at you.

“Thomas!” Your father warns, in which Tom focuses his eyes back on his father with a clenched jaw.

“Father, please. It was me. She was angry with me and the boys simply stepped in to protect me. It was my fault. Please do not punish Tom or Mattheo. This is all my fault. I deserve to be punished.” You say. 

“Mattheo is the only one whose name didn’t pop up in the letter. He is excused from this. But, Tom and you are not.” He says. 

He points his wand, speaking, “Crucio!”. Your hands flew out, a green ward appearing around Tom as the spell bounced off of it. You used your other hand to hit the spell that now headed towards your father. 

“You dare defy me?” He asks lowly, standing slowly as his eyes seem to turn redder. 

“I said he had no part in this, but you choose to ignore what I had to say!” You snap, your own eyes turning green in anger. 

He falters, his eyes changing to ones of surprise before he raises his wand.

“I would feel terrible about having to kill my own child, but it’s evident you’ve been experimenting with your powers. If you continue to stand up to me and be a threat to me, I’ll have no other option than to kill you.” He speaks. 

“Don’t lie, father. You’d feel absolutely nothing. But, what if I did this? I reverse all your work?” You ask. 

“Don’t you dare!” He shouts. 

You clench your jaw as you flay your arms out as green lights up the room. You watch your father drop his wand as you levitate him. You continue to search his mind for all the objects that were horcruxes before your magic reached out to retrieve it and piece his soul back together. He yells and curses at you, but you aren’t affected. 

The green light disperses as you lower your father who had a sharp jawline, blue eyes that matched Tom and yours. He was tall and lanky, but you could tell it only meant he was toned. His brown hair was carefully styled. He looks at his hands before turning to a mirror and staring at himself. He spins back towards you, storming towards you.

“What the hell did you do to me!” He shouts. 

“You are no longer immortal. You are mortal. I could…however…make you immortal in a different way. But, I’m questioning if you even deserve that respect, father. You’ve treated your children like shit since they could walk. You’ve tortured us. You don’t care, nor love us. You are as much of a monster and a coward as some of the muggle’s I hear about with their children.” You seethe, walking towards him as he slowly backs up. 

“I do love you three! And I care about you! You wouldn’t know a damn thing because you're so naive!” He shouts.

You decide to peek into his mind. You become humbled as some twisted part of him has loved and cared for you…but this new him allows him to express it normally and you can tell he is confused with the feelings. He’s scared. 

“I’m not naive…you’ve done well hiding your true feelings towards us our entire life. Horcrux and disembodied you allowed you to experience love and care, yet those were warped. You had a very screwed up way of showing it. But, this way will allow us to see how you truly feel towards us.” You say, motioning to him. 

“I want to be immortal, Y/n. I have plans I must go through with.” He says. 

You turn, taking a seat and resting your chin on your hand as you look back at him.

“I’d be more than happy to make you immortal again. A spell I made and might I add that it works perfectly, no risks. But, I have one little thing I don’t want to happen. You’ve cowered behind your followers for far too long, father. A true leader leads the war. Not to mention, you have children involved. You’re willing to go to war with innocent children who may lose their lives. They’ve only ever heard what their parents said and they are far too young to even begin to think of what they truly believe. This against you adults. It doesn’t involve us. Nor, the children attending Hogwarts.” You say. 

“You kids are far more talented and excelled.” He says.

“Father…I don’t see the point of this war. You’re a half-blood…which makes Tom, Mattheo and I half-bloods as well. You’re deeming it your right to lead a war for a pure-blood world, but what about us? How does it make it fair?” You ask. 

“Because we aren’t like the other half-bloods and mud-bloods. We are far more powerful than them…smarter than them, stronger than them. Look at you for example. You possess abilities that no one else can. You possess magic that is otherworldly. Tom is much like me who can use wandless magic and see into the minds of even our most challenging opponents. Mattheo, he is much like your guy’s mother—the magical way—as she possessed ancient magic and as does Mattheo. Mattheo and Tom remind me of myself when I was younger just from the way they act. But, you…you remind me so much of your mother.” He says, managing a small smile at me. 

You were unsure what to say, thrown off by what a mood change he just had. You also found yourself wanting to ask him questions of your mother whom you’ve never gotten the chance to meet as she died in childbirth. 

“Meeting will be prolonged for now. You may go to the living room for now. I want a moment with my children.” Your father says. 

People soon filed out of the room, Enzo being the one to close the doors with hesitancy. You shoot a smile his way and nod, seeing that he looked much more relieved to close the doors. Mattheo was still sitting where he had been, but Tom took a seat across from you. 

“What was she like…our mom?” You ask.

“Your mother was…beautiful…you much look like her aside from the eyes. Mattheo got her eyes. Tom, you have her nose and lips. But, most importantly…you all share her big heart and her logical mind. She too didn’t see my views on why I wanted to go to war. She despised it unless I could truly find the reason behind it. There never was a reason besides I wanted a pureblood world. But, her and I…I never knew what love was until your mother. I believed I was incapable of loving or feeling in general until your mother walked up to me with one of her perfect, soft smiles. She was bold, fearless, and so smart. That was the side everyone got to see. But, as she and I grew closer…I got to see how big her heart was for her friends and family, just like yours Y/n/n…and to see how much she cared.” He says, his eyes faraway as he thought of your mother. 

“How were you both after graduating?” You ask.

“We were perfect. We spent the next two or three decades madly in love when I had decided to move forth with my plans. By then, my old friend Abraxas had a little boy, Lucius. I watched my friends have children, but my friends died. It was their children I began to seek forth on the war. As they began to choose to have children, I realized how quiet your mother had gotten. She always watched. I asked about it one day naturally only to learn that she too wanted children. So, we began to try, which didn’t take long till she found out she was pregnant with you three. I would do anything to go back to the day to see that smile.” He says, smiling sadly. 

“If you don’t mind…I could reflect on your memory so we could all see.” You say and he nods. 

Naturally, he had been thinking about the day, so when you tapped his temple, it didn’t take long to find it. Soon, the four of you were quietly staring at your mother. It was a little snippet, her smile that was indeed much like yours, her brown eyes lighted with so much joy and love as she held a pregnancy stick up. 

“I was unaware that your mother had a bleeding disorder. The pregnancy went well and when her water broke, we were ecstatic. I’ll admit I was rather nervous, but she couldn’t wait to get out the door and to the hospital to have you. She was so excited. They did the c-section, she got to hold the three of you. She cried as she said how beautiful you three were. She said you were going to be triple the trouble. She whispered how much she loved you and that one day she’d see you again. I was confused, but she managed to kiss each of your heads before the nurses were taking you away with solemn looks. She knew she was going to die. The entire pregnancy, she knew. She knew she’d die or live. She agreed to one horcrux—me, to live immortally. The other half of her joined me that night when she didn’t make it out of the room.” He says, swallowing hard.

“That’s who I felt when I pieced your soul back together.” You whisper.

“You felt her? I feel her sometimes…used to I could talk to her and she’d speak back. She’s grown silent though and I feared that she was gone.” He admits. 

“She’s there, her soul is growing weaker though. She wasn’t meant to live through you, but her own vessel…I…” You say, trailing off. 

“What?” He asks.

“She has a spell to resurrect the dead as well. She is the child who has dabbled in muggle magic that never went anywhere, but she takes it somewhere. She made the three of us immortal with her immortal spell, feelings intact. She did give us each a way to die if we ever got tired of being immortal. If we decided we wanted to move forth and meet in another life.” Tom explains.

“Your mother use to make spells too…she spent the years we were in Hogwarts and up until you three were born trying to create a spell on immortality. She hated that I had gone through with horcruxes and was sure she’d be able to reverse it and give us a safer option for immortality…yet here you are and you did it sooner than your mother had been able to. You remind me so much of your mother.” He says, looking at you. 

It was silent as you all looked at the memory of your mother who was so joyous finding out she was pregnant. You find yourself thinking she is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.

“I have a question.” Your father says.

“What's up?” Mattheo asks, trying to find a way to be less awkward around your guys’ father. 

“Why does Theodore look at Y/n all the time?” He asks.

You look up confused, your brothers sharing an uncomfortable look as they looked almost defeated. Tom sighs and motions Mattheo on. Mattheo sighs.

“I didn’t tell you, Y/n/n, you just found out, okay? Theodore…he has had a crush or in your words, fancied Y/n/n since first year. He’s always been a bit scared to tell her as he would rather have her as a friend than not have her at all.” Mattheo explains.

You tilt your head in curiosity as you wonder why that never stood out to you. You had always fancied him, but you never assumed he’d feel anything back. 

“I don’t quite know how to explain what it is I’m feeling…like…I love Y/n/n…I want to see her happy, but I don’t know how I feel about a boy fancying her.” Your father says.

“It's when you feel protective over someone. I’m sure you felt it often with mom.” Mattheo explains.

“I did…I was always embarrassed to ask her about the different feelings I would experience.” He admits. 

“I’ll need her bones, some ingredients, but most importantly, I’ll be needing to carefully retract her soul from you dad…this part could hurt.” You say, turning to your father.

“That’s okay.” He admits. 

“Is this it, my lord?” Lucius.

You, as much as you hated it, had a crowd who was rather intrigued by your magic and ability to create spells. You were slightly disturbed with your mothers remains being in the same room as you, but you knew it was necessary. 

“Yes.” He murmurs, walking further into the room and sitting in the chair across from your mothers casket. 

You place the metal bowl between the two as you start to add the ingredients in, you pause turning to your father as you strap him to the chair. He grimaces, realizing he may have misinterpreted how bad this would hurt, but he couldn’t complain. He wanted nothing more than the woman he loved back. 

You raise your hands, having to clench your jaw of your fathers strangled groans and pained grunts as you pull your mothers soul free of him. You lowered it to the bowl, taking a match and lighting the bowl. 

A wave of light fills the room, and you walk to the casket to see your mother there in the flesh and blood. You hear Tom helping your father free of restraints as you hold a hand out for your mother.

“Y/n/n?” She murmurs.

“Y-You recognize me?” You whisper as she fully stands.

“How could I not? You’ve turned out to be such a beautiful young woman…oh Mattheo…Tom, my boys. You three come here.” She whispers. 

The embrace of your mother was something you realized you hadn’t needed so much. Her love, care, and warmth was what filled those missing parts in you—all, but one, but that was Theodore’s spot. 

“You’re so pretty.” You murmur.

“Oh, love. Thank you, but it is you who is the prettiest girl to be seen.” She murmurs. 

She holds you three tight for minutes, before leaving a long kiss on each of your heads before hesitantly letting you go. She looks at your guys’ father with watery eyes. 

“I can’t say I haven’t missed you because I have. But, I still don’t agree with your views and how you’ve treated our children. But, when Y/n/n looked into your mind and pointed out that you had always loved and cared for them, it was just warped…I understood. But, I do believe the horcruxes played an effect. If the kids are okay with it, I’d love for all of us to start a clean slate.” She says. 

Your father nods, his own eyes watery. You turn to look at your brothers to see them looking at you as your parents turn to you three. Mattheo does a little nod, and you turn to Tom. You could see his hesitance, but once he sees your encouraging smile, he does a little nod himself. You turn to your parents, nodding at them. They pull the three of you in a hug.

“What are you doing all alone out here, Teddy?” You ask, wearing a silvery dress that glitters. 

Your makeup and jewelry was dark and green per-usual. He was in a tux, his tie terribly tied as he didn’t know how to. He had a cigarette in his mouth as he takes you in. 

“Everyone is dancing and doing sappy stuff. Your brothers even had dates.” He says quietly. 

You step forward, lifting your hands as you fix his tie. You look into his soft, yet intense eyes and smile.

“Teddy, would you like to dance with me?” You ask.

“R-Really?” He asks surprised.

“I only ask guys I like to dance, Teddy, so…would you?” You ask, holding your hand out to him.

“You like me?” He asks, taking your hand.

“More than you know, Teddy.” You say, smiling softly at him before you were gently dragging him to the dance floor.

A slow song comes on as you both start to sway. You requested this and then a waltz song next before letting the music officiant go back to their list. You saw your father and mother happily dancing as they whispered lovingly to each other. Mattheo was dancing with Astoria as Tom danced with a girl who was a year below you all. You periodically saw your friends amongst the dancing couples as they too danced. 

“Love?” Theodore murmurs.

“Hm?” You hum, your eyes clashing with his.

“You like me in a more than friend way…right?” He asks, his eyes flickering over your shoulder out of nerves.

“That was what I meant, silly. Do you like me in a more than friend way?” You ask.

“Yes! I have for a long time…since first year, but I was just…I was so scared I’d lose you because you didn’t feel that way. I was everywhere…protecting you, and keeping guys away. You infiltrated my mind every waking moment of mine…you are my mania.” He says.

“Oh Teddy, I’ve liked you since first year too. I wish I would’ve said something sooner, but all is okay. We’ve told each other now.” You say, smiling softly.

“Since you were so bold earlier, let me return that…would you be my girlfriend?” He asks.

“Nothing would make me happier, Teddy.” You murmur, leaning up as he leans down to kiss you softly.

“Hey!” Tom, Mattheo and your father shout. 

You both pull apart with soft laughter as you both look over to see them giving you both stern looks, your brothers’ dates trying to get them to leave you alone as your mother reigns your father in. You turn back to Theodore, a soft smile on your face.

“I love you, Teddy.” You murmur.

“I love you too, Y/n/n.” He whispers as the music shifts to waltz music and he groans as you grin mischievously.

It was then that he knew this was your doing, but he smiled goofily as he wouldn’t have this any other way.

[elliespeach]

the black lace | ellie williams

pairing: ellie williams x afab reader warnings: 18+!! smut smut smutty smut smut smut!! r! receiving, fingering, strap riding, teasing, friends to lovers lowkey,reader n ellie smoke bc who doesn't love that shit, the plot is there if u squint but i tried to not focus on it too much, not proofread wordcount: 3k an: yeah yeah i got this from porn SUE ME i will not be apologizing

you knocked on ellie’s dorm, you were a little late because you couldn’t decide what to actually wear. it was seconds before her door opened, revealing her and that smile you loved so much. your friendship with ellie was always dancing on the very thin line between platonic and romantic. a few drunk nights here and there where you both got really handsy with each other, you were always cuddling and playfully flirting with one another. but neither of you ever truly acted on the obvious feelings you had for one another, and you hoped tonight would change that. 

your plan was simple, really. ellie prided herself on her photography skills, even selling a few of them and you had asked her to help with taking some professional explicit photos of yourself. you didn’t share with her why, but ellie definitely thought about the reason all day. and she cursed herself for not asking why, instead she was so excited about the idea she immediately said yes and only thought about it later once it actually set in. without even fully knowing, your plan was already working. 

“that’s what you’re wearing?” she asked, looking you up and down with a smug expression on her face. 

you lifted up your shirt slightly, revealing the lace beneath, “did you want me to walk across campus with only this on?” ellie whistled and you pulled your shirt back down, rolling your eyes at her while she stepped aside, letting you in her dorm. it was small, but decorated just perfectly to encapsulate ellie’s personality. mortal kombat posters plastered everywhere along with ones related to comics you had no knowledge of. art supplies were scattered along her desk as if she had been painting just minutes prior and her camera sat perfectly placed on her freshly made bed. 

the neon weed sign on her wall illuminated the room in a purple cloud as it always did, making the stick-on stars on her ceiling glow as well in the semi-darkness. you turned back around to her as she shut the door behind her, she was in her usual lounging around wear. the hoodie that she stole from you that she refused to wash because it smells like you. “wanna smoke first?” she inquired, bending down to grab the shoebox from under her bed. 

“always,” you responded and sat on the edge of her bed while she picked a pre-roll from the box. she placed it in her mouth and lit the end but passed it off to you before she inhaled. she sat next to you on the bed as you took a few puffs and blew it out of the open window. 

you handed it back to her, making eye contact as you did and her fingers lingered above yours for a second too long and she cleared her throat, looking away and taking the pre-roll. “so–uh, why did you need these pictures?” she took a drag and exhaled quickly. 

“just for myself,” you admitted, which wasn’t an entire lie because you had no one else to send them to, the only person you would send them to would be her. ellie chuckled, taking another hit and handing back to you but not allowing her fingers to linger. she spoke as you inhaled the smoke. 

“really? just for you?” she asked in disbelief, allowing the little green monster in her show slightly. “not that girl in your lecture who you said was totalllyyy hot?” she mocked you, concealing her jealousy with a joke but her chest felt heavy as she did. 

you turned your body towards her, lifting your knee to rest on the bed, the other dangling off and swaying with the nerves that filled your body. “maybe,” you shrugged, taking one more hit before trying to pass it back to her. ellie rolled her eyes, swiveling her body to reach the camera behind her ignoring you trying to pass her the pre-roll. 

“i’ve heard horror stories about her–” ellie spoke, turning back to you with the camera in her hands. she gently pushed your shoulder down so your head fell to her pillow. she propped herself up on her knees and stared down at you through the camera lens. “you could do better than that.” 

since she wouldn’t take it back, you balanced the pre-roll in your mouth and lifted your upper body, peeling off the shirt that covered the lace. the high coming on making you feel more confident, along with her words so obviously laced in jealousy. bringing yourself back down on her bed and taking another hit and keeping it in your fingers. “and who is that?”

ellie gawked at you through the lens, the lingerie falling so softly on your skin and squeezing all the best parts of you. she had never seen so much of you exposed, the very thin layer of lace that covered your nipples and she was glad you couldn’t tell where she was looking through the camera. she swallowed probably louder than she had intended to and quickly refocused on the conversation. “anyone but her.” 

she snapped a picture, looking at it on the camera and shook her head. you were perfect, but the angle was off and she moved from the foot of the bed and came beside you, still on her knees. you scoffed as she straddled your lap, looking through the lens once again, focusing on your upper body. “ellie wh–” 

“shh, i’m working–” she uttered, snapping another picture catching you off guard. so you decided to just play into it, posing as best you could while she continually took pictures. she would occasionally shift her weight on top of you, resting against your legs that were propped up behind her back. the movement on your core, as little as it was, felt antagonizing like she was doing it on purpose. and she was. 

ellie was doing all she could to keep composed, but you looked so good laying on her bed in the black lace and she felt her own core tighten as it usually did when she was around you. ignoring it, she removed the camera from her eyes and plucked the pre-roll from your hands, taking a drag herself before climbing off of you. if you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have whined at her leaving but while the weed rested in her mouth she tugged on your pants, speaking out of the side of her mouth. “you look stiff,” 

“stiff?” you asked, pulling your pants down to your ankles and ellie couldn’t stop herself from peeling them the rest of the way off for you.she tossed them to the floor, putting out the pre-roll into the ashtray on her desk at the foot of the bed. turning back to you, she placed her hands on your legs gently. while meeting your gaze, she moved them up and goosebumps erupted on your skin. 

“yeah, stiff,” she repeated, stopping her hands at your thighs and spreading them apart. the lingerie hiding your wetness that had grown since you walked in the door and ellie reached for her camera, placing herself between your legs. “like you’re nervous–” she said, pulling the camera up to her eye. 

“i am not nervous,” you lied with a chuckle and ellie dropped her shoulders, bringing the camera down as well and placing it next to you on the bed. her expression read as really? and you doubled down, “i’m not!” 

she clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, breathing out a sigh that you couldn’t decipher. she pushed back any thoughts screaming at her to stop as she lowered herself between your legs, peppering kisses along the insides of them. “do i make you nervous?” her hot breath grazed your thighs and you knew you were a goner, your breathing hitched and you laughed as her lips tickled your thighs. 

“n-no,” you remained firm, but her kisses felt like velvet on your legs and you held back from begging her to rip off the lingerie. she lifted her head from your legs, meeting your gaze. 

“i’m not buying it, babe,” you were used to her calling you babe, but her voice had turned to a low raspy tone and you nearly melted. ellie took notice of your weakened state with her between your legs and bit down on her lip, taking you in. she ran her hand up your thigh, grazing it over the top of the lace on your stomach and all bets were off for her. “i could help loosen you up, y’know.” 

you stomach was doing flips and you looked down at her still between your legs, her fingers twirling the lingerie on your hips. you knew exactly what she meant, but you decided to play dumb despite the aching urge for her to connect her lips to you again, “we already smoked–” 

“i’m not talking about smoking,” she whispered as she pulled herself up from your legs and hovering over your face. she studied your face, moving from your eyes to your lips and back again, as if asking permission. you didn’t nod, you didn’t respond, you took her face in your hands and connected your lips, tired of waiting. 

her mouth took control, forcing her tongue inside yours as her hand guided itself down your chest and squeezing the lingerie that covered your breast. you two had kissed before but it was when you were way too drunk but this time felt different. as if circumstances had changed, she kissed you like you were hers and it felt hungry which only made you all the more desperate for her to touch you. 

her hand wandered down as she kissed you, stuffing her hand beneath the clothing and finding your drenched pussy. as her fingers swirled around between your folds you moaned into her mouth, unable to hold it back and she smiled against your lips as if in victory. she pulled back from the kiss while her hands worked their magic that you had been longing for ever since you met her. she kept her face close to yours, feeling each other's heavy breathing and your hips bucked, needing more of her. 

but as you did she retracted her hand, snapping your lingerie back down on your skin. this time you whined, the missing feeling of her fingers in your slick being overbearing. “you’re soaked, babe,” she said breathlessly in her raspy voice. she took the camera that had been laying stagnant beside the two of you and repositioned herself at your feet. “let’s see if that helped,” bringing the camera up to her eye, staring at the mess she had made you to be. your chest was heaving and the clothing did little to hide the wet patch that had appeared as the result of her. 

she tsk’d, lowering the camera and looked into your doe eyes, glossed over with desperation. “try touching yourself,” ellie’d be lying if she said that she wasn’t self indulging here, you looked perfect and to be honest you were never stiff to begin with. but she couldn’t hide the way you made her feel, the butterflies that filled her stomach when you moaned into her mouth and she knew that she couldn’t go back to how it was before after this. 

you obliged, slipping your hand beneath your lingerie and felt just exactly how wet you were. you’d be embarrassed it had been anyone but ellie, but while watching her look down at you through the camera you felt the familiar build up rising in your stomach. just the image of her was enough for you. soft mumbles escaped your mouth and you arched your head back, hearing the camera snapping above you. when it stopped you lifted your head, your fingers still gliding through your own folds and ellie had placed the camera back down and she was just gazing at you while you pleased yourself. you swore you heard a soft, fuck come from her but over your own mumbles you weren’t sure. 

she leaned down, snagging the small straps on your hips in her knuckles and tugged. you lifted your legs to your chest as she pulled them up and off of you, your wet cunt on full display for her now and the look in her eye was dangerous. you hadn’t seen this side of ellie before, just her grabby hands all over you but never so determined like now. she gently pushed your legs apart again, sliding her fingers through your wetness before inserting her middle finger and your back arched. you gripped her sheets as she pumped in and out, groaning as she quickened her pace at your reaction. 

“f-fuck, ellie–” you moaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure. ellie smirked watching you unravel in front of her and slid in her ring finger, curling them inside of you. your pussy clenched around them and ellie let out a low animalistic grunt, pushing them further into your cunt with every thrust. the sound of your slick against her fingers filling the room and you felt your stomach bundle up in knots. your hand grasped at her arm that was holding her up, digging your nails into her skin and letting the moans roll out of your mouth. “i’m– i–” 

“i know baby,” ellie panted, her fingers never letting up, the new nickname ringing in your ears, bringing you closer to your climax. “let it out, i got you–” she cooed through breaths and with her words you came undone. your legs shook around her fingers, eyes rolling and back arching as tall as it could and ellie nearly finished herself just watching you. your tits bouncing with the thrusts of her fingers and she only slowed down and removed them when your quick breaths turned into long exhales. 

she couldn’t help herself and licked her fingers clean of you, leaning down and planting soft kisses on your jawline then coming back up to your mouth. “it wasn’t about pictures, was it?” she spoke quietly into your mouth, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. you shook your head slightly, cupping her face and kissing her again, feeling accomplished that your plan had worked. 

when she pulled away you gave her puppy dog eyes, your hands gliding down her arms and tugging slightly as if to pull her back to you. “you want more?” she asked tauntingly, leaning against the wall beside her bed and brushing a hair from your face. you got up, positioning yourself on her lap and laced your arms behind her head, trailing wet kisses down her neck. 

her hands roamed your body while she hummed softly from your kisses. while sitting on her lap, you couldn’t help but feel a bulge poking you from under her sweatpants and you pulled back, an amused expression across your face. “it wasn’t just pictures for you either then?” you questioned in a low voice as your hands worked their way beyond her pants and felt the silicone underneath. 

she pulled off her hoodie, throwing it behind you and her hands found your figure again. her thumbs tracing your skin softly as she refocused her eyes on you. “i just happen to be wearing it,” 

“sure, els,” you mocked her, sliding off of her lap and tugging her pants down revealing the strap she had been concealing. it was rather large, veiny and had a purple tint to it– although you weren’t sure if it was from the neon lights in her room. but nonetheless it looked sexy attached to her, springing up as her pants were removed. you crawled up her legs, kissing here and there while she watched, her hands playing in your hair. ellie’s own pussy throbbing at the sight as you placed yourself down on the purple silicone, feeling it fill you up. 

her hands found your hips and with the help of her hands guiding your hips, you rode her strap. the movement of the base of it rubbing ellie just the right way to feel her stomach tighten as your tits bounced in her face. you placed one hand on the wall behind her to steady yourself, the other resting on her shoulder as you grinded on her, the strap reaching every corner of your pussy. ellie dug her fingers into your hips and moved you faster, feeling her own release coming on. 

your head fell into her shoulder and a string of moans and cursing came rambling out next to her ear. she was doing the same, allowing herself to express her pleasure in the form of quick breaths and low grunts. “oh my god, baby–” she managed to get out as your hips grinded faster into her and her hands cupped your tits, squeezing harshly before bringing one of them into her mouth. her tongue swirled on your sensitive nipple, feeling the vibration of her moans as she sucked on your boob before letting them go with a pop. 

her head leaned back on the wall beside your hand and her eyes were closed tight, feeling herself come closer to her finish. she could sense you were close to, your legs shaking against hers and how your breathing became more erratic. bringing her hands back to your hips to guide them, as if they needed any help anyway, you both felt the sensation of tipping over the edge and awfully loud gasps came from the both of you. your head was still buried in her shoulder as you came and ellie grabbed your face, pulling you into a deep kiss as you rode out your highs together. your grinds slowly came to a stop before plucking yourself off of her. 

you sat beside her, both of you completely out of breath and when you met her gaze she smirked at you lightly. “i still wanna take those pictures of you,” your face contorted into a confused one and she continued, rubbing your thigh with her hand, “for…. science.” 

[mrskokushibo]

A Prayer for the Damned

Yoriichi x Fem!Reader one shot

NSFW I 18+ I MDNI I

Synopsis: Yoriichi is your best friend, but will your friendship survive the night? This is a story about transformations: of seasons, life and feelings. And Yoriichi is about to show you a side of him you never knew before.... Are you ready to worship the sun?

Warnings: Smut. Anal. Oral. Vaginal sex. Analingus. Fingering. Cockwarming. Slight size kink. MANGA SPOILER

Word count: 3908

Masterlist

Image source: wallpaperflare.com

This story was written as per the following request from the wonderful and talented ❤❤❤ @muzanswaifu:

Can I get a yorrichi smut bestie with a fem! reader?

And i really liked the tension from your last fic where koku was mad at reader so for this fic can you flip it and make reader mad at yorrichi for doing something negligent to her and hurting her feelings?

It doesnt have to be that prompt tho, any yorrichi smut will satisfy me ❤️❤️❤️ love u

As he was walking toward his friend’s house on the outskirts of town, Yoriichi could not help but contemplate the change in the air that his favourite season was slowly bringing about. There was always something special about autumn, something that resonated with his calm and thoughtful personality. Vegetation burst into fiery reds and warm oranges and yellows, all the shades of flame, as if to mark its inevitable transition into death and winter. An affirmation that there was no life without death, no rebirth into spring without going through the natural process. Just like the human soul. And tonight, the air was finally cool enough to absorb both the smell of withering nature as well as the fires carried from human dwellings, all blending into an intoxicating scent.

Normally all this would make him at ease, but tonight he was unable to enjoy any of it. His thoughts were occupied by something he never thought possible, a tragedy so unimaginable that one would think could only happen in tales told to children on dark winter nights. His beloved brother turned into a demon.  His heart was full of sorrow and regret, he was on the verge of hating himself. There were ways of preventing what happened, so many choices- his choices, that led to this. He could have been firmer, but also more understanding with Michikatsu, not be foolish to trust that somehow, he didn't really harbour such jealousy toward Yoriichi after all. But how can you defy sibling love; because he loved his brother and he chose to believe that Michikatsu, somewhere deep under the layers of bitterness and spite, loved him too. Twins share a special bond after all.

He finally reached his destination, but before entering the house, he stopped and looked up at the sky. The moon was a bright crescent, with thin veils of smoke and clouds obscuring parts of it and giving it a reddish hue. The sky was shifting purple, the same purple that adorned Michikatsu’s clothes and that also was the colour of his eyes. Staring at the moon, Yoriichi could not help but think of the ancient legend of Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu, the gods of Sun and Moon, that were tied up in an endless battle.

'Is this what is going to become of us, brother?’

*****

Only a few candles illuminated the otherwise dark room, incense smoke, and cooking vapour swirled intertwined through the air as if performing an intricate dance. A small figure knelt in front of a shrine at the far end of the room.

You held your face in your hands, dried-up tears stinging your eyes and skin.

‘Ancestors, I pray to you, wherever he is, please look after him, look after his soul.’

You knew that he was now bound for hell…. if anyone ever managed to kill him. Michikatsu has always been the one you were attracted to, in contrast to his stoic brother, he was more open and livelier, his eyes always lit by a spark, a subtle disclosure of a fire hiding beneath the tamed and friendly surface. He smiled more than Yoriichi too. But the two of you were not friends, neither did you want friendship only…When he left his wife and children to join the corps, you explained his behaviour by him being forced into a loveless, arranged marriage. By the way, the family he left behind was well looked after, with the entire estate being written over to them, thus securing their and even their prospective descendants’ future. All these excuses for his misdeeds were now coming back at you with full force.

There was one other you blamed even more than yourself: Yoriichi. His lack of resolve and action, his indolence, was what led to this. You were convincing yourself of it. Your feelings were connected by a pendulum swinging between anger and grief. And how do you even grieve someone who is not dead, who is … undead…

Your thoughts were interrupted by shoji door sliding softly. It was Yoriichi. He slid the door closed just as gently as he opened it and walked towards you with floorboards creaking under the weight of his tall body. He stopped a few steps away from you so as not to disturb you in your prayers. It was Wednesday, the day of your weekly dinner together. You were close friends since childhood and he was one of the most reliable people you have ever met. Always patient and with a soft manner. But now, your fury was blinding you, almost undoing the bond the two of you shared. You slowly stood up and turned around to face him, using all your willpower to restrain yourself from lashing out at him.

‘Are you all right (y/n)?’ he asked in his deep hushed voice.

‘I do not know, I really don’t know, Yori. Are you?’

He looked away without answering. The flickering of candlelight reflected in his nearly expressionless maroon eyes. You walked around him toward the firepit to check on the food that was simmering gently over the comforting heat.

‘I am sorry, but dinner will be very simple tonight. I just did not have the energy to make anything elaborate.’

‘That is perfectly fine (y/n). You know I am not fussy, and besides, you were very busy recently.’

*Very busy recently* what the hell *why is he dancing around the topic like this? * you thought, your aggression going up a notch.

In silence, you started plating the food. You passed him the plates and cutlery and he placed them on the table.

‘Would you like something stronger to drink? I know I do’ you asked.

He nodded in approval and sat down on the tatami in front of his plate. You grabbed the bottle of rice wine, and two cups and followed suit. You both ate in silence while you kept on filling up your cups with the strong drink. Due to his sheer size and muscle mass, the alcohol had very little effect on him, but you were getting drunk. Well, not the type of losing all control drunk, but drunk enough to no longer care to have restraint.

After dinner, he insisted to clean up while you sat with the drink in your hand. The alcohol was making your brain fog up. You even caught yourself watching him in a way you normally would not watch a friend. He was a man after all, and a gorgeous one at that, with the same perfectly symmetrical facial features and the tall and muscular body as Michi. And yet so different. Despite his stoic behaviour and calm eyes, his aura was like fire, the red mark on his face, maroon eyes and black hair with flame-red highlights, and his clothes to match. A warmth started to spread down your belly. You had to suppress this, it was so wrong to lust for a friend, and for someone that you now were so cross with. The mixture of embarrassment and anger was explosive enough to make you leap up to him suddenly.

‘How can you be so unmoved by it all? Are you not human? It is your fault he turned into a demon. You could have prevented this from happening, but of course, you did not. It would disturb your sacred peace, Gods forbid’. You were now beyond caring and were ready to say anything that came to your mind. 

  ‘(Y/n), please stop. Not tonight. I am just as moved by this as you are. Believe me, but I think we should sleep on it and talk tomorrow when you are more, well, reasonable.’

He was now just about to walk away, presenting you with the silent treatment that you by now were familiar with being his irritating way of handling or rather avoiding conflict and confrontation.

  This was the last drop you needed to push you over the edge. You lunged forward to slap him in the face, but you did not even manage to swing halfway when his reflexes kicked in and he caught your hand, firmly but gently. You lost your balance and fell forward, the stopping point being Yoriichi. You literally fell into his chest and instead of pulling away, you stayed there, as if paralysed. This was the first time you ever had such close physical contact with him. Due to his reserved manner you never even exchanged so much as a hug. Being this close now made you realise the enormous size difference between you two. His stature was imposing, solid with broad shoulders and strong hips. You could not help but imagine what it would feel like to have him doing things to you…

  The intoxication was making you weak, you really could not move away now, or maybe subconsciously, you simply didn’t want to. Being so close to him, his warmth and smell started to bring memories of Michi and you just wanted to stay like this a while longer imagining it was him instead. Yoriichi’s hips were on the level of your belly, the bulge in his hakama growing from the close contact. And that is where you snapped. Why be so decent and proper when you were pent up with anger, an unfulfilled desire for Michi, and whatever else that was driving you crazy? All these emotions went straight to your sex. You started rubbing his hardening cock through the fabric of his hakama and went down on your knees to start taking it off him, yanking unkindly on the belts holding it up.

  All that time Yoriichi was completely still, shocked at your willingness to change things so recklessly between you, what he thought was a beautiful friendship. When you went down on your knees, he could not help himself anymore. He grabbed your head between his hands and tilted it so that he could look you in the eye.

  ‘Stop! This is not the way I want to fu…´He whispered embarrassed with what he was just about to say.

  Yes, he desired you for a while now, but he respected you too much to ever entertain the idea. Tonight though, your anger, the alcohol, and the oppressive atmosphere of this autumn night created a chain reaction impossible to stop. He helped you up and took your hand, the look in his eyes changed.

  ‘Come’ he said quietly, his deep soft voice sounding with a promise of something you never imagined would happen. You followed him to the bedroom.  

  Well in the bedroom he stopped just next to the futon and leaned down to you and slowly started kissing you. He was gentle, the kisses like a flutter of butterfly wings, continuing down your neck and chest, he was now on his knees opening your kimono and continuing to kiss down your breasts and then your belly. He did not even touch your erect nipples or aching groin yet, but you were already overflowing with need. Your clothes fell to the ground while he resorted to sitting down to get comfortable access between your legs. He kissed your folds while caressing your back and buttocks. And that is when he suddenly parted the soft flesh of your labia and started licking you between them. Simultaneously, he reached up to your breasts and started to slowly roll one of your nipples between his fingers. A loud moan left your lips, your pussy leaking onto his tongue. 

You started tugging at his kimono, desperate to see his naked torso. He complied and soon you were able to finally admire him in the privacy of your own home. And it was a sight for sore eyes… You were sliding your hands across his torso, feeling the broad neck and the hard triangle of his shoulders, his bulky biceps, toned pecs and abs, and the perfect triangle running down to his groin. Your insatiable hunger for his magnificent body was growing by the minute and you craved to see what was hiding in his hakama. You had an idea from when you stumbled into him, but still. You needed to see it, touch it, feel it inside you.

  Sitting in front of you like this was not the most comfortable of positions, so he directed you slowly to the futon until you were laying down with his head between your legs. He was rubbing you up and down your inner thighs and pushing your legs toward your torso to grant himself better access to you, until he was comfortably positioned to focus on diving into your sex. Tongue tracing up and down, lapping up our slick. He alternated licking with sucking on your clit, just lightly at first to get you used to it, but eventually harder and harder as your arousal intensified. It was as if he could read your body, and most likely he could, possessing extraordinary senses and access to the transparent world. Your moans pointed him in the direction of the most efficient moves. You could feel his warm breath on your cunt and you were slowly losing yourself.

You started bucking your hips to rub yourself on his mouth, but strong hands stopped you and pushed your hips down, instead, he started copying your movement by using his tongue. He was licking in circles around your clit, faster and faster and faster, with increasing pressure on the swollen nerve bundle. His fingers were deep in your pussy, rubbing firmly on your g-spot. And then you felt the indescribable pleasure of a finger tracing around your asshole. A throaty moan left your mouth, this was so dirty. He rubbed harder around your rear entrance while thrusting his fingers into your sopping pussy and running circles with his tongue around your clit. All through this he was basically completely silent, only releasing a heavy sigh now and then. Occasionally, he would lift his gaze to meet yours.

With every lick of his tongue around your sensitive bud, the knot in your belly was being wound up tighter and tighter. All of a sudden, he inserted a finger into your asshole, adding to your already intense pleasure. You were now losing all control of yourself. The knot finally burst and you squirted your juices all over his face in the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced. Your legs were shaking from the overstimulation as he kept on tracing circles around your clit. Eventually, he took mercy on you and stopped, wiping your cum from his face with his forearm. His narrowed eyes looked up at you and in the faint light of the candle, the red pupils had almost an intensity of a demonic gaze.

  Without losing eye contact, he started removing his hakama. You swallowed when his cock sprang out freely. It was huge, long, and thick, with a slight curve, pale on the shaft with a bright red tip, and it looked like it had some weight to it, not surprisingly since he was so tall and solid. In the hazy state, you were in, the words that left your mouth came out almost automatically.

‘Yori, fuck my ass...’

You knew this would hurt, but right now, physical pain was all you wanted, all you needed to numb the inner fury that was ravaging you. He did not say anything in response. His eyes narrowed a little, but he knew you well enough to see when you meant business, and he was about to respect your wish.

So just like that, he got up and said ‘I will only be a second.’ And quickly left the room.

You could hear him rummage through the pantry and a few moments later he was back with a bottle of oil. Your pelvic muscles contracted in renewed arousal. So, he was up for it… You turned around and lay down on your stomach. He climbed on the bed and placed himself between your legs. His hands massaging your ass and spreading your buttocks, you could hear him open the bottle and soon oil was running down your lower back and onto your soft cheeks. With determined movement, he was spreading the oil all over your ass, fingers circling closer and closer to your asshole, his mouth kissing and tongue licking around the sensitive opening. Oiled finger started to claim entry to your puckering hole, first one, then two, then three, and finally you could feel the tip of his cock starting to push against the opening. He was going slowly, with excessive amounts of oil as a lubricant, sliding in his cock into you, for what it felt like a very long time. You were squirming in pleasure at the new sensation.

When he finally bottomed out, he stopped.

‘Are you ready?’

You nodded in reply. He then began to pump his cock inside you. The pace was extremely slow at the start, but once he felt you relaxed, he started to pump harder and faster. His movements were steady and precise.

‘Come inside me’ your voice almost commanding.

You wanted to be sore, you wanted the rush of this. He shifted to hover straight over the top of you, his whole body in plank position, supported on his powerful arms, hammering his cock from straight above you. You could hear his breath speed up and sweat drops now falling on your back. His hips hitting your soft butt cheeks emitted a quiet slapping sound. A strong thrust later and he emptied the content of his balls into your ass. His after spasm made his whole body shake and he pulled out gently out of you.

‘Wait here, I need to clean myself up, I will bring some towels for you too.’ When he was ready, he came back with a damp hot towel and cleaned your still pulsing hole.

He then slumped on his back next to you. You turned around to your side to face him. You could not stop feasting your eyes on the sight that was in front of you. The smooth skin stretched so perfectly over his strong muscles, now all covered with small droplets of sweat, his long mane spread out around him. You were getting addicted to this, you understood now why women behaved so awkwardly around him, giving him hungry looks that he never reciprocated. Were you blind all that time? Well, I guess back then you foolishly convinced yourself that Michi was the one for you, and well, they were so alike, being twins. But now, you were realising that appearance alone was not all that made Yoriichi so intoxicating to you. His inner fire, so well hidden away, was hotter than anything that Michi ever possessed.

You were growing wild, cautiously you crept closer to him and cuddled up to his side, slowly embracing his chest with your arm. You then started to massage his chest, your hand slowly sliding down toward his groin. You were now massaging his large hips, avoiding his cock for now, teasing, mostly yourself as all you wanted was to grab hold of his delicious cock. He closed his eyes, enjoying the treatment you were gifting him. You ran out of patience with yourself and started stroking his cock. You grabbed it, pumping up and down the entire thick length. You then got up on all four and started to lick his veiny shaft. You could finally taste him and the salty precum was making you delirious, heat spreading in your stomach, increasing the ache you felt deep in your cunt.

As your arousal was getting stronger again, you were faced with a dilemma. On one hand, you really wanted him to come in your mouth, but at the same time, you were desperate for your own release. You sensed that one more orgasm could make him drained, as emotionally exhausted as he must have been after the week’s events. What if his rebound time got too long or he was not even willing to go again? No, you decided to fulfill your own needs, the first orgasm coming from your clit only, you needed a deeper sensation, you needed to be shaken out of the haze, and clear your thoughts.

You sucked his cock for a little while longer, swallowing it all the way to the hilt, your tongue drawing small circles on the sensitive tip. Yoriichi was moaning quietly, with his deep voice turning hoarse every time you sunk your head on his length. With a last lewd lick to the veiny underside, you shifted yourself and straddled him. Hovering your ass over his groin, you grabbed hold of his erect cock and started slowly lowering yourself on him, savouring the sensation of his generous member stretching every crevice and fold of your insides, making you feel fuller than you could ever imagine possible. He was now all the way to the balls in your throbbing pussy.

The look in his eyes was pure lust, the maroon now so dark under half-closed lids, that it almost made his pupils look black. You started riding him, your breasts bouncing, making him fixate his intense gaze on your soft mounds. His hands were now resting on your waist and soon he started to slide them all over you, feeling your back, and ass, and finally grabbed both of your breasts, squeezing them roughly, so they formed perfect circles with a delightful cleavage in between. You started to slowly reach the peaks of your ecstasy, you were slamming yourself harder and harder on his groin. As your movements intensified, he began pinching your nipples and that turned you into overdrive. Your walls clamping on him, his hands pinching both nipples, the relentless pace of your own hips, faster, harder, you were so close now.

Your climax came from deep inside your spasming cunt and you screamed. The sensation lasted long enough to make you almost pass out, trembling with aftershocks of the extreme pleasure you just experienced. The sheets under you were now soaked, you must have squirted all over him. While you were slumped on top of Yoriichi, he started working toward his own release. His strong hips were now bucking up into you, thrusting his cock deep into your slick-filled insides. Obscene, wet, and sloppy sounds of flesh pounding flesh, your moans and his heavy breathing were filling the room. You felt his cock swell inside you and you were soon filled with the warmth of his semen coating your clenching walls. Exhausted, covered with sweat and cum, his cock still inside you, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

*****

The first rays of the morning sun peeking through the window shine on the two lovers still sleeping in the same embrace they slumped into from the peaks of their climax. As the day wipes away the dark of night and the Sun outshines the Moon, so does love conquer fear and grief. This was heaven, him, the man you knew for so long and yet never knew well enough until last night. All thoughts of Michikatsu washed away now, it was only Yoriichi that mattered. If the two of you were forced to leave this place, then so be it. You were his if he wanted you to be. You understood that bathing in the rays of his warm aura and worshipping his body in return for the light, was something you could do for the rest of your days. You knew he was to become your everything. He was…

…. your Sun.

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

As always, a big thank you to my peeps for providing daily inspiration:

@muzanswaifu @doumadono @muzansfangs @koku-shibou @kokusfluffyhair @dudeandduchess @ask-the-upper-moons @paintoreos @yoriichiitsugikuni @koyuki-the-flower @fuckkyourlife @nakimex @dahliamalfoy97 @chibi-koku @sunsblaze @angelltheninth @xxsabitoxx @ask-yoriichi @doumaslotus

Reblogs and feedback are welcome!!

[little-diable]

Asshole - College!Aaron Hotchner (smut)

A small drabble inspired by @writethelifeyouwant – thank you for this, Mads! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: pwp, Aaron Hotchner is an asshole, a fuckboy she tried to avoid, and yet clearly fails to do so

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking

Pairing: College!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (1.3k words)

The bar was crowded, a thick cloud of smoke hung in the air, making it harder for her to find her way to her friends. (Y/n) had to keep her groan bottled in, not wanting to push herself past people she barely knew, strange faces, and those she had once seen but rather not come across again. 

Why had she agreed to go and meet them here? Why had she left the safety of her apartment when she had an exam tomorrow morning?

“Careful, sweetheart.” Hands shot out to grasp her arms, holding onto (y/n) before she could tumble to the ground. With her thoughts guiding her, she hadn’t noticed the tall frame moving towards her, colliding with her before she could rip herself out of her thoughts. Her hazy eyes focused on the man towering over her, just the sight of his face left her groaning in annoyance.

“Let go of me, Hotchner.” It was too loud for her to pick up on the low chuckle rumbling through him, forced to watch the tall guy step away from her with his hands raised and his lips pulled into a smirk. Fuck, if he weren’t such an asshole, she would have given into his flirting months ago. But yet whenever she tried to give him a chance, he went ahead and ripped her hope to shreds, making out with others right in front of her, and flirting with those she couldn’t stand.

It was a tiring back and forth. 

Without sparing him another glance, (y/n) pushed herself past him, sighing in relief as her eyes found the ones of Amy, her closest friend. A small smile made its way onto her lips as she plopped down on the chair next to Amy, greeting their friends with a small wave of her trembling hand. 

“You okay?” Concern dripped from Amy’s voice, eyes wandering over (y/n)’s frame as if she was looking for wounds, hoping that she hadn’t been hurt physically. (Y/n) let go of a sigh as she reached for Amy’s drink, taking a sip of the strong beverage before a reply could leave her.

“I ran into that Hotchner asshole, I don’t know how much longer I can hold off with forcing my fist into that annoyingly handsome face.” It took (y/n) a moment to focus on Amy’s wide eyes, leaving her to wonder what had managed to catch her friend’s attention. 

“So, you do think I’m handsome after all, huh?” Slowly she turned towards Aaron Hotchner, who was standing behind her with two beers in his hand. She watched him place one down for her before he sat down next to her, arm finding its way around her shoulder. “But we’ll have to talk about that kink of yours one day, do you get off to the thought of hitting me?”

……

“Fuck,” she was heavily panting, eyes pressed close, fingers buried in his raven hair. He had her pressed against the door of her apartment, lips kissing their way down her throat. She couldn’t even remember how they had ended up right here, after one too many beers and one too many cigarettes they had shared.

It had been the first time in months that he had actually been focused on her, flirting with (y/n) until the heat thumping through her veins had managed to burn her wholly. Without a doubt she’d regret doing this when the sun rose above the horizon, and yet she couldn’t care about the future, all she could care about was the feeling of his hardening cock rubbing against her still-clothed cunt.

“I knew I’d eventually turn you into a moaning mess for me.” Aaron rasped the words against her throat, hands tightening their grip on her thighs. He felt her legs shake, wrapped around his waist to keep herself close, silently praying that he wouldn’t let go. 

“Shut up!” Her voice trembled, coaxing a loud laugh out of him as he started walking towards her bedroom. It wasn’t the first time he found himself in her apartment, but it certainly was the first time she allowed him to touch her, to push her closer to the edge with a simple kiss. “I don’t want any foreplay, I just need you to fuck me.”

“A woman who knows what she wants, how sweet.” She wanted to call him a condescending asshole, but her words got stuck in her throat as Aaron roughly pushed her down on the mattress. It didn’t take him long to free her from her dress, groaning at the sight of her underwear-clad body, a sight for sore eyes he’d think of in the upcoming weeks. 

“Do you have a condom?” His murmured words ripped (y/n) out of her trance, watching him undress with skilled movements. His dark leather jacket was long forgotten, just like that white shirt of his that managed to hide the muscular body she always had wanted to touch. Wordlessly she turned towards her bedside table to reach for a condom, only to turn back to his naked frame. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it fit.”

“Such an arrogant dick,” (y/n) choked on her words, trying to sound somewhat confident. Her eyes struggled to leave his hard cock, watching it twitch in anticipation as Aaron ripped the condom open. She tried to focus on herself and shrugged out of her underwear only to flop back down on the mattress. 

“I’ll fuck you now, but I won’t leave without getting a taste of you later, that much I can promise.” His words left her moaning, momentarily distracting her from the feeling of his cock nudging against her entrance. Their eyes held contact as he slowly pushed into her, managing to push deep into her tightness due to her arousal seeping out of her, desperate for him. “Jesus fuck, you feel so good.”

“Oh, god, Aaron. Move!” He didn’t need to be told twice, pulling out of her only to push back in with more force. Within seconds the two had managed to build a fast rhythm, set on their own greedy needs, desperate to feel that addicting high. Aaron’s ringed fingers found her throat to keep (y/n) pinned down on the mattress, fucking her with an urgency she wasn’t used to. 

The sound of their bodies meeting echoed through her small bedroom, followed by the sound of her moans and his deep groans. Aaron fucked her as if it was his last day on earth, as if he had to prove a point. And (y/n) happily took it all, every touch, every possessive groan that made her tremble beneath him.

“Touch yourself, baby, make yourself cum on my cock.” With trembling fingers she found her pulsing bundle, circling her clit to try and push herself into the open arms of her orgasm. Aaron watched her with dilated pupils, pleasure-drunken and high on the feeling of her walls fluttering around his cock. He’d struggle with letting her go, Aaron wasn’t one for sticking around, but perhaps he could make an expectation - just this once.

“I’m close, harder, please.” A hum left Aaron at her begging, smirking down at (y/n) as he fucked her even harder. He tightened his grip on her throat as she came, watching her with amazement swimming in his pupils. Aaron fucked her through her high and gave it a few more thrusts before he came himself. 

“That was something.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him chuckling, carefully he pulled away, threw the condom away and found his way back to her bed. He found his place next to her, heavily breathing just like she was. 

“If there’s one thing to know about me,” with mischief swimming in his pupils he settled between her quivering thighs. “It’s knowing that I always keep my word, and I need to taste you now, baby.”

[whore4abby]

a room with a view; abby anderson

part one

warnings; older!abby, ditzy fem!reader, mdni

wc; 1.1k

you were getting tired of the bustling city-that-never-sleeps lifestyle, and it was starting to take a toll on you, leaving you feeling burnt out and in need of a little getaway for a while. you had decided to surf the web and look for any airbnb listings, preferably something a couple hours outside the city.

whilst idly scrolling through the available rentals, you eventually stumble upon a listing that catches your attention. the listing is for a room to rent on a charming farmstead nestled in a serene and rural part of a small town, surrounded by rolling hills and lush greenery that seems to span for miles and miles in all directions.

intrigued by the listing, you quickly make up your mind and decide to book this spontaneous getaway. the thought of being on a farm for a few weeks has you feeling giddy and excited about your new adventure, picturing yourself in the idyllic fields and playing with the animals, maybe even going for a dip in a nearby creek.

and after a few swift clicks of your freshly manicured fingertips and a trip to your purse to fetch your credit card details, you’ve finally secured your reservation. you try to hold back your excitement but before long you’re giggling and kicking your feet like a schoolgirl, rustling the soft floral sheets beneath you with your frenzied movements.

a couple weeks later, you find yourself driving up a long and winding path up towards the farmhouse. the fields either side of you filled with gorgeous wildflowers and tallgrass, the gentle breeze causing them to sway slightly. you hum along happily to the music emitting from your radio, a little smile on your face as you feel the warmth of the sun hitting your cheeks.

abby sits on the front porch of the farm house, a coffee mug in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. she hears the low rumble of your engine and looks over as you slow down and pull up outside the quaint farmhouse. she watches you hop out of your little white convertible and prop your sunglasses up on your head, your wedged sandals crunching at the gravel beneath your feet as you saunter around to the trunk to grab your bags.

abby stands up, taking a final sip of her coffee before walking off the shady porch and towards you. she crosses her arms across her chest and stares at you, clearly unimpressed with your arrival. the clothes you’re wearing scream ‘city girl’ and she thinks you look a little ridiculous walking around in a short dress and high heels.

“i think you're in the wrong part of town, darlin’…” she blows out a big cloud of smoke and raises an eyebrow at you, looking you up and down and throwing the cigarette butt to the floor and stomping it out with the heel of her beaten up cowboy boots. “y/n right…?”

“yeah, that's me…and you’re abby, right?” you smile, before attempting to haul your luggage out of the car. abby nods and sighs before getting closer to help you with your things. “here, let me…” she mumbles, not waiting for your response before grabbing your bags and suitcases one by one. you watch her as she effortlessly lifts the bags and walks with them towards the modest home. you finally get a good look at the woman you’re gonna be spending the next month with, and you feel yourself start to get a little flustered around her as you watch her biceps strain against her plaid shirt.

you giggle softly and look up at her “i could’ve done that myself-” she smirks ever so slightly and gives you another subtle once over, “a pretty little city girl like yourself…? i don't think so, honey.”

abby looks down at you smugly, and gives you a sceptical look, speaking lowly, “ya know.. this is a farm right? this ain’t a vacation. you can’t be wearin shit like that. jesus christ, girl.” she mutters before she starts to take your bags into the farmhouse.

“this is where you’re gonna be staying.” abby sighs and almost rolls her eyes as she leads you down the corridor and into a bedroom. its a small room, nothing like what you’re used to back at home, but you’ll make do just fine. she sets down the pile of bags and stands with her hands on her hips in the doorway. “set your shit up…” she looks at you sternly.

“listen to me missy….im not dealing with any of this bullshit-” she gestures to the excessive amount of belongings you have, from the makeup to the ungodly amount of clothes and other useless material items.

“i don't want you leavin all your things around, yeah? this is my house and you’re gonna follow my rules whether you like it or not…understand?” you resist the temptation to roll your eyes and give her attitude, instead choosing to just nod for the sake of staying on her good side. and with that she turns on her heel and retreats back down the hallway and disappears out of sight.

you let out a heavy sigh and lay back on the bed, giving yourself a little time to adjust to your new temporary home before you start to unpack.

the next morning, you step out of your room, heels smacking against the hardwood flooring as you join abby at the table. she looks up from her newspaper in disbelief and scoffs at your choice of outfit, but its obvious she likes what she sees as her eyes drift down to your thighs, which are barely covered by your itty bitty denim shorts. “coffee?” she pushes over the pot towards you and your eyebrows furrow, “no iced lattes?” she snorts in amusement and shakes her head, “just drink the damn coffee, doll~”

you huff but still bring the mug up to your freshly glossed lips, drinking from the steaming mug, and shuddering a little at the bitter taste, “not even any sugar?” you give her an innocent smile, hoping to woo her into agreeing with you. but instead she looks at you as if you’ve deeply offended her, making it pretty clear she’s not willing to compromise on this.

she finishes reading and snaps the newspaper back together, throwing it down on the table and standing back up. “hey, wh- i wasn't finished!” you pout as she scoops up your mug and pours the coffee down the drain.

“remember what i said!? my house. my rules. now hurry up we got work to do-” she bites back harshly and opens up the door, ushering you out and resisting the urge to slap your ass as you pass by.

god this was gonna be hard work.

[meowhara]

Halloween Special🔮

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

cw : none! cry baby reader ig 😌

author's note : Tbh I almost delete this draft because of how boring it is (at least in my opinion). I got a better story idea midway of writing this but I don't have any time to redo so here you go. Sorry if it's too boring to read :)

"What is Halloween?" You asked as you laid on your stomach on a red fluffy sofa and scrolls through your pink phone (that he just bought for you) in his office.

"Halloween? Oh it's a celebration where you go around the neighborhood wearing stupid costumes and trick or treating people in order to collect candies." He said with a snarl. He couldn't even remember when was the last time he went trick or treating. But he does remember a childhood memory of him and Gabriel, walking in the middle of the night dressing up as Mario and Luigi. The memory of them laughing with mouthful of candies in their mouth.

You gasp, interrupting his train of thought. "I want to wear costumes! I never got to wear one before!" You said as you start skipping excitedly towards his working desk where he is sitting right now. "You? Want to wear costumes?" He look up at you through his lashes as if you just said an utterly stupid idea, not taking his reading glasses off before he continue working on some business paper on his desk.

You nodded, "Please... Pretty please?" Miguel ignores you and continue signing tons of paperworks that he needs to work on. "Is that a yes?" You asked again, hoping that he'll let you dress up for the up coming Halloween which is today. He stood up suddenly and starts walking towards the exit of his office. "Aww Miguel? Please??" You said as you follow behind him.

He kept ignoring you and kept walking towards the front door. "Miguel... Pleaseee? Just let me dress up this one time for Halloween." You kept begging and tugging on his sleeve while looking up at him with the biggest puppy eyes he has ever seen. He stopped in front of the door to put his coat and black frame red lens sunglasses on. Before looking down at you with an annoyed expression, "Lyla, help and make her whatever costume she wants." He said while looking at Lyla who's busy typing on her phone with her back leaning onto the nearest wall.

She rolled her eyes before standing up back straight. "Why me? I'm busy too you know?" She sneered as he looks at Miguel and crossing her arms in front of her chest. But he didn't say anything before walking out the door and driving away with some of his men.

You let out an exited squeak and your small fluffy bunny tail starts to wag in excitement before you turned to look at Lyla with a wide happy smile on your face. She let out a frustrated sigh and rubs her face with her palm before she looks at you, feeling defeated. "Come on you little ball of fur." You happily follows behind her towards the living room.

Miguel is sitting on the back seat of his car as his second man in command drives him to a meeting he needed to attend. "Cancel all the plans I have for this evening." He said while he lit up his cigarette. "Sir, but your schedule are packed today. You have several important meetings to attend to." The man behind the wheel said. "I don't care. I don't want to be interrupted for the rest of my evening." Miguel said after he puffed a cloud full of smoke from his mouth. "Is it because of Y/N?" The driver raised one of his eyebrows at Miguel and looked at him through the rear view mirror. Miguel was caught off guard from the question, he let out an offended scoff. "No. One more word out from your mouth and I'll cut your tongue off." He growls before the driver let out a satisfied chuckle and focus back on the road.

"So what do you want to dress up as, Y/N?" Lyla asked you as she tried to look up for costume references online with her phone. "I want to be umm what's the name of the little girl with red cloak?"

"Red cloak— Little red riding hood?" She said with an eyebrow raised at you. "Yes her! I want to dress up as her. I thought it would fit me." You said with a bright smile. "Why don't you just dress up as a bunny? You have the ears already right? Wouldn't that be easier?" She obviously doesn't want to make anything too complicated since this is not the part of her job, babysitting her boss's little girlfriend? Yeah right.

"But I want to be the little red riding hood..." You pouts, hoping that will make her change her mind. "Ugh fine. You're lucky you're so cute." She pinch your cheek softly before standing up. "Where are you going, Lyla?" You asked, wondering why she stood up suddenly. "You want a costume right? Don't you need some fabric for that?" She said as she walks to the front door and put her black leather jacket and her black motorcycle helmet on. "Right... Can I come with you?" She just sigh, "Y/N, Miguel will chop my head off if I let you out without his supervision. Just stay at home and wait okay?" Your bunny ears fall backwards from disappointment but you nodded anyway.

After she went out to buy some fabric and other things to help you make a costume she then came back to Miguel's masion. You spend the whole day with her making your costume using an old sewing machine she somehow found in Miguel's basement. Lyla made the red cloak and a matching little red riding hood inspired dress. She even bought a small brown basket to match your costume.

Miguel came back home right after you finished making the costumes you wanted. He entered the living room just to find it messy with fabrics everywhere. Lyla rests her head against the sofa's back pillows with her eyes closed. "You need to pay me extra for this you know?" She said still with her eyes closed. "Where is Y/N?" He asked, ignoring what she just said to him. But she just replied back with a shrug.

"Lyla—" He raised his voice before you hugged him from the back. "Miguel! You're back." He turned to look at you and his expression softens instantly. "What are you dressing up as?" He asked as an amused smile appeared across his face. You gave him a quick 360° spin to show your costume off to him. "Little red riding hood! Do you like it?"

The way your red cloak's hood covers your head, leaving your beautiful mostly adorable face for him to look at and the way your bunny ears are hidden by the hood. And how the matching dress Lyla made for you makes you look even more adorable to look at, it does suit you perfectly. His little red riding hood, he thought to himself. Deep down he's in love with how you look but he's too embarrassed to say it. "It looks okay."

You tilt your head to the side and took the hood off, exposing you bunny ears as it straightened back up like usual. "You... Don't like it?" You said with a sad tone which made Miguel regret his answer right away. "No— no. I do like it. You look... Good." Your face lit up right away, "You think so?" He just nodded, worried that another stupid word out of his mouth will make you upset.

You giggles and hug him tight. He got surprised by your sudden hug but he hugs you back any way, as gentle as possible. You then look up at him with the brightest smile that stole his heart every single time he looks at you smiling at him. You pull away before you jump a little to gave him a little kiss on the cheek. His face turned into a redder shade right away from your kiss which makes you giggle even more. Lyla rolled her eyes as she watches her boss getting flustered from a kiss that you just gave him. She cleared her throat to catch your attention, "Don't you have a surprise for Miguel, Y/N?"

"Right! I do have a surprise for you." You said before taking a small pile of clothing that you neatly folded from the living room table. "What is this?" He said before taking it from you. "A costume for you. I thought it might be even better if you dress up with me." He unfolded the clothing, trying to figure out what kind of costume it is. It looks like a pretty long black cape with red fabric in the inner side of the cape. "You want me to wear this?" He asked, unsure whether he wanted to accept your request or not. At the same time he doesn't want to hurt your feelings.

"Yes, it's a vampire costume— I mean cloak. I mean you just need to put that over your suit since your outfit is already kind of... Vampirey enough." You said sheepishly. "No. That's not going to happen." He fold the cloak and offers it back to you. "B— but I worked hard to make that cape for you... Please just wear it." You begs, trying to make him change his mind.

"Don't be such an asshole boss. She made it for you, at least wear it for her." Lyla jumped into the conversation because she feels bad if Miguel just turned down your hard work just like that. He look at you for a while before letting out a long and tired exhale, "Fine. I'll wear it. But just for today." Your face lit up once again as he wears the cape. "You know what will make the costume look better, Y/N? Fake fangs." She teased.

Instead, you took her teasing seriously and starts dragging Miguel with you towards his bedroom where you make him sat down in front of the mirror to put fake fangs on him. "Is this really necessary?" He pouts likes a child. "Mhm it is. It's Halloween after all." You said while you put the fangs on him without him complaining at all, different from usual. "I regret telling you anything about Halloween." He mumbles before checking himself on the mirror and taking a look at the fake fangs.

"So, what do you think?" Your eyes are focused on his reflection on the mirror. But he didn't answer, he just stares at you from the mirror. "Miguel, are you okay? Are you mad at me?" He starts walking towards you slowly with his brows knitted together, angry. "M— Miguel? What's wrong?" You backs away from him, you can feel fear surging through you veins from how different he acts all of the sudden.

The back of your legs are now pressed against the bed, leaving you no more room to escape. His eyes are looking down at you like a predator looking at it's prey. Now you know how much fear the little red riding hood must felt when she met the wolf in disguise. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears from how scared you felt at the moment. Your bunny ears fall backwards when you're feeling scared or nervous and you can feel your legs shaking in fear.

Miguel pounce at you, tackled you off your feet before your back landed on the bed. You screamed and put your hands in front of your face for protection. But to your surprise Miguel let out a laugh, "Can't believe you fall for that, little one." He said before smothering your face with kisses. "W—what?" You look up at him with fear, tears blurring your vision. "I was just messing with you. No need to get so worked up over it." He teased as he starts kissing your neck and nibbles on it gently.

"Why would you do that for?" You can't stop yourself from crying, some tears fell from your eyes before you wiped it all away. "Aww don't cry. Why are you crying?" He teases even more and move aside so you can get back up on your feet. You know how much of a tease he is when you two are in private, especially when he's in a very good mood. "You scared me." You said as you sat back up angrily before looking away from him.

He smirked and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead, "My bad, little one. Come on don't be mad, I was just toying with you." You look away from him with your hands crossed in front of your chest to show that you're mad at his joke. "Little one? Please talk to me. I'm sorry okay? I mean it." He motions your head to face him with his hand before caressing your chin with his thumb while looking at you with an apologetic expression. An idea came up in your head before your face softens a little, "I'll forgive you if you let me go trick or treating tonight." You said with a smirk, challenging him.

"Oh getting smarter aren't you. I like that. But no trick or treating. You know how dangerous it is at this hour, little one."

"Why? Everybody went outside already! I don't want to miss anything." You said with a small pout. "By me letting you dress up and even let myself dress up because you asked me to is a miracle itself, trust me."

"You're lame." You grumbled under your breath. "Care to repeat that? I don't think you're loud enough the first time you said it."

You ignore him and it's getting on his nerves but he's trying to keep himself calm for your sake. "It's getting late. Let's go downstairs and eat dinner."

Throughout the dinner you're awfully quiet and kept playing with your food, not eating any of it. He understood by now how pissed you are just because he didn't let you to go out. He didn't allowed you to do one thing that everybody does on Halloween and it's pissing you off, horribly. "Y/N, please just eat your food. I got you your favorite carrot, the freshest even. I know you're upset but you can't starve yourself like this." He said, trying to make you understand the situation better. "Look I know how pissed off you are by how I'm being overprotective. But you need to understand that this is for your own good." He kept trying to persuade you with his words. But you're too angry to listen. "You're just being selfish." You hissed at him, making his heart break.

He tried to think of a way to make you at least a little bit happier. He called one of his men to prepare something for you in order to make it up to you. "Look I know I can't let you out to go trick or treating. But I prepared a batch of candies outside my door so kids can take those. So, you won't missed out anything since you can still watch people coming by from inside the house. You can even greet them yourself if you want." He said with so much warmth in his voice. You stood up quicker than the speed of light, "Really? I can do that?!" He nods before you jumped at him to give him a big hug. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"In one condition. You need to finish your dinner first." You nodded before eating your dinner as fast as you can before you rush towards the front door and sat by the window, waiting for anyone to come up to take candies from the big container full of candies.

Miguel just smiled as he watches you from the living room, your bunny tail waging in excitement. He's happy that you're happy and that's what matters the most for him. Paperworks waited for him upstairs so he went back inside his office to work while you're still sitting near the window with his sidekicks watching over you for him.

Hours has passed and he's still up in his office, busy until he heard a knock on his door. "Come in." Eyes still glued to his work, one of his sidekick enters his office. "Sir, it's Y/N. She's umm how do I explain this? She's been very quiet for the past hour and her ears— it's not standing up. You know what I mean?" He sigh before looking up from his paperwork to his sidekick. "Is she asleep?" He asked, tiredness filled his voice. "No I think she's crying..." Miguel rubs his eyes with his palms before rushing out from his office, "Oh for fuck's sake."

"Sir, don't you want to take that ridiculous costume off." His sidekick complaints, tugging on his vampire cloak that you made just for him. "Touch it one more time and I'll break your hands myself." He growls before his sidekick raised his hands up, off of the cape. "Sorry."

Miguel saw you weeping on the floor, still with your little red riding hood costume on. "Hey, little one. What's wrong?" He crouched down beside you just to find your face wet from tears. "I waited and waited for hours but nobody came... Why didn't they show up?"

Miguel didn't think about the fact that his mansion is just too scary for any kids— anyone to walk to his door and take some candies. "Look, maybe they didn't know there are candies there. We can try again next year okay?" He patted your back as an attempt to calm you down. "Is it my outfit? Did they not like my outfit?" You asked in between sobs, you couldn't believe all that hardwork you spend on making costumes are wasted just like that. "Of course not. You look gorgeous! Next year I promise we'll go out together on Halloween okay? So you can go trick or treating." You wipe your tears away and look up at him, "Promise?"

"Promise." He said before he pulls you into a hug. The hug lasted for quite a while before you let out a loud yawn. He laughs before pulling away from the hug, "Let's go to bed, little one. You look sleepy." He helps you to get back on your feet. "Don't people watch scary movies on Halloween? I haven't done that yet." You mumbles as you rub your eyes with the back of your hands. Miguel look up at his watch, the time is currently showing 11 PM. "It's past your bedtime and besides you wouldn't even last a second watching a horror movie."

"Just one movie... I promise I'll go to sleep right away." He never wanted you to stay too long after your bedtime but he let it slide this time. "One movie okay? Then you'll go to bed right away." You smile happily before you two made your way towards the living room then sat down on the sofa.

He turn the TV on, "What do you want to watch?" He asked as he sat down beside you, you're sitting down comfortably leaning over his massive build. "I want to watch horror movies!" He can tell just by how exited you are that you never watched any horror movie before. He shook his head with a smile before he picked any random movie for you to watch. His arms found it's way around your shoulder, pulling your body closer to his.

Five minutes into the movie and you're fast asleep, snoring softly with your ears falling to the side. He smiles to himself again before carrying you upstairs like a baby. He then put you down on his bed, he doesn't even bother to take your costume off since he know how much you like wearing it.

He planted a light kiss on your forehead, "Good night, my little red riding hood."