#i finally got to p-1 this week and beat it

[lumipaiio]

Grandpa power blast

[retro-rezz-the-est]

Don't Leave - Roman Reigns/Female!Reader

Summary: Immediately after his devastating loss to his cousins Jimmy and Jey at Money In The Bank, Roman finds you in the back as he looks for an outlet for all of this newfound pent-up energy…but this may lead to something else as well.

Word Count: 14,197 (jfc that's more than I expected)

Warnings: degradation, choking/throat squeezing, biting/marking, hair pulling, spanking, oral (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), edging (for both parties involved), unprotected P in V action (please be safe and wrap it before you tap it irl tho), Roman being his Tribal Chief self (because that’s a warning all on its own), a bit of manhandling here and there as well….y’know, the works :3

A/N: All of this comes from three connecting factors: 1) Roman being the sexy ass WHORE that he is, 2) my own brain finally starting to work in tandem with my damn writing fingers, and 3) an all-caps DM from @stargazerofgoldenwords demanding that I write this so full partial blame goes to her. So here y’all go…for the bitches and the bros and for all the non-binary hoes ^3^ (I also haven’t written a full-fledged smut in I believe over three years so….I hope I did good lol)

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This…This can not be happening.

How is this even possible? What’s going to happen now?

These thoughts and more rush through your mind as you stand board stiff in the back, your eyes seeming to be permanently glued to the large monitor in front of you while gasps and cheers from the remainder of the locker room fill your ears alongside the blaring bass of The Usos’ theme.

Roman told you to stay in the back for a reason, to only come out after he’d won and embarrassed the hell out of his cousins for ever turning their backs on him, so he could make examples out of them as a reason to never and not turn your back on the Tribal Chief.

He wanted them to remember this night, to remember the ache in their bones, the wear and tear of their joints as he slammed them against the mat over and over again, the blood and sweat staining their skin as he and Solo dug into the twins with everything they had left within them.

They would learn their lesson tonight, and they would learn it well: you do not mess with the Tribal Chief because if you do, you will feel a pain that you have never known before.

He was going to show everyone why he and he alone was the head of the table, why he was unstoppable, and why only those who followed him and his lead would prosper in the end.

But, none of that actually mattered in the end, not as you stand staring at the monitor, hands covering your mouth in shock.

They…They did it.

They actually managed to do it.

Jey pinned Roman, pinned him for the first time in over three fucking years.

Blow after blow to the foundation of The Bloodline, week after week from the cracks being exposed to Sami’s turn at the Royal Rumble that set everything in motion to the goddamn explosion that occurred during Roman and Solo’s Night of Champions match.

After all this time, The Usos finally got one over on the Tribal Chief, they won the Bloodline civil war.

They beat the Tribal Chief, destroyed his so-called “Island of Relevancy”, showed the world that he is still just a man and can be beaten just like the rest of them. Roman Reigns is not as invincible as he claims to be!...

….but Roman?

Roman is pissed.

You can see it all processing in his eyes in real time, all of the noise around you fading into the background along with the roaring cheers from the London crowd: his loss, being pinned, the fact that despite being a champion he has lost his stance, his placement at the head of the table.

Because what use is there of an Island of Relevancy if you’re the only one standing on it?

Your hands drop from your mouth and fall to your sides; how the hell…? What the hell is happening? Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as those around you celebrate his demise, hands clapping shoulders and drinks beginning to be passed around as the show draws to a close.

You can practically see the floor falling out beneath Roman’s feet as he slides out of the ring, dejected and defeated with a raging inferno blazing bright and hot behind those fierce eyes of his; his entire world, perfectly constructed with seemingly no flaws whatsoever, has shattered in front of his very eyes.

Rage twisted and contorted Roman’s facial features into something unrecognizable as he sat on the floor ringside, kicking his feet and screaming his anger out into the universe like a temperamental child. Baring his teeth, hissing and gnashing his jaw like an uncaged animal…

Frankly, it scared the shit out of you to see live.

He’s shaking, actually shaking with all of the hate and virtiol that courses through his very veins. The bright lights of the arena, hot and beaming down on his skin? The way his hair sticks to the sides of his face and the heavy furrow in his brow? The way his entire body aches from the brutal punishment of the match?

None of that matters now. None of it will ever matter now.

His anger, his regret, his disappointment with himself as he comes to terms with the true loss of yet another faction of his, people who he loved and cared for turning their backs on him again…his mind was a maelstrom as he gripped his face and pulled at his temple, and not even the pain from that could distract him from the truth in front of his very eyes.

His own family, his own blood, has betrayed him, the image of Jimmy and Jey standing above him displaying on every and all of the large screens inside the arena. His heart pounds in his chest and hs blood boils; they can’t just get away with this. They will pay for their crimes against him, against their family, against their Bloodline!

The blood, the sweat, the tears and the pain he had poured into their family, all the work that he had put in to make sure that they all ate, that they all got opportunity after opportunity after opportunity….all for nothing.

You watch as Solo picks himself up from the floor and stumbles his way over to Roman, Paul’s face a complete mess and whirlwind of emotions as he rushes over with Roman’s smorgasbord of titles cradled like infants within his arms. You can barely hear what the latter is saying to the Tribal Chief over the cheers of The Usos’ celebrating and their theme blaring through the speakers, but it’s most likely some sort of consolation and a promise of revenge due to the bright red of the shorter man’s face.

Even after all of this, after everything that these men have just gone through, Jimmy still attempts to reach out to comfort Roman as he sits ringside on the floor, you watching as Jey pulls him back to his own side; Roman is a lost cause to them now. In their eyes, they’ve destroyed his corrupted faction, they’ve cut off the hydra’s heads, and now?

Now, they’re done with him, with all things Bloodline-related as the descend back into being “the ones”.

They are the new Tribal Chiefs around these parts, not Roman.

Not anymore.

After what feels like an eternity of the fallen party sitting in stasis outside of the ring, they all stand, Roman wrapping an arm around his midsection and another hand around his shoulder as they all walk backwards back up the long runway.

His eyes stay locked onto his cousins as the camera pans from him to them and back again, Solo’s eyes filled with an incoming storm and Paul’s lips seeming to move at a mile a minute with how quickly he seems to throw insults the way of The Usos.

But the two in the ring just smile.

They smile and embrace each other after a hard won victory as the entire WWE Universe embraces them as well, and all that does is piss Roman off even more.

Your body somehow finds the will to move, your feet ungluing themselves from the floor beheath them before you begin to move your way through the small crowd of those watching from the back.

You tear your eyes away from the monitor you were watching and beeline it straight to the guerilla position where they’re set to return, and you can still hear the thunderous cheers coming from the fans as Jimmy and Jey continue to celebrate the fall of the Tribal Chief. Maneuvering your way through throngs of people, past production, past *everything*...you have to find him.

You have to find him, and fast.

It’s like your feet barely even graze the ground with how fast you walk, the light tapping of your heels echoing off the walls around you as you make your way closer and closer to Roman and…oh.

You can just barely see him over the heads and past the shoulders of the cameramen, the interviewers waving their mics in their faces, over the glinting bald heads of Pearce and Hunter that’re shining with sweat as they attempt to get a word in with Roman before they try to rush him in the direction of where the press conference is being held…but it’s as though he doesn’t see any of them, his eyes dark and filled to the brim with something nasty.

You’re not even the prime target of his glare, steel-cut and piercing all that come across it, and even you feel the brunt of it, shivering where you stand behind the cloud of people vying for his attention as he moves his way through them. For the reporters and the interviewers, their mics in shaking hands as cameras flash in his face, all of their questions die on their tongues the second his eyes sweep over them.

“Roman. Roman!” you hear Pearce call out to him, Hunter, Solo, and Heyman in tow close to his heels. “Damn it, Roman, listen to me!”

“We need to get you out there, Reigns. Just give a quick statement about the match, about The Usos, and then-”

Pearce and Hunter’s requests fall on deaf ears as you move to the side, the crowd of people following Roman’s path as he walks down one of the arena’s large halls.

“Excuse you, Hunter? Did you not just see the utter and complete farce that was the match our Tribal Chief just had?! There will be no statement to be made, and no appearance at any press conference shall be had unless it involves the absolute dismissal of what was clearly a farce of a loss!”

Paul’s demands make his face grow a bright red as he follows Roman, clutching his titles as his head seems to grow three sizes from the fury written across his face. “Jimmy and Jey, they’re cheaters! Conmen who have embarrassed your Tribal Chief in front of millions of people time and time again! We demand retribution! A rematch to set things right again! Do you know how much Roman Reigns has brought to this company? How much prestige he’s brought to these titles, to these championships?”

Paul jostles the titles in question in his arms, brows furrowed and steam practically pouring out of his ears. “This is an outrage! This is a scam! You two should be ashamed of yourselves for even allowing this to happen to a force like Roman Reigns-”

His incessant, constant stream of words and potential curses are paused by Solo’s hand slamming into his chest, Heyman’s eyes going wide as his mouth falls open before quickly closing it and stepping back to Roman’s side.

Roman pauses his stride, eyeing Hunter and Pearce so viciously that you yourself are shrinking into your own skin; he very clearly doesn’t want to be bothered right now, so why even try to ask him of anything at all?

The look he gives both men, the silent communications that occur between them seems to be more than enough for them to back off in their pursuits, stepping out of his way as their phones begin to ring constantly.

“We have to get some sort of response out of him, right? I mean, he’s the champion right now, we can’t just let him leave-”

“Let him cool off for a second, Pearce,” Hunter tells him, running a hand over his own stressed face. “He’s in no mood for any of that right about now.”

Roman continues to shove past and maneuver around those in his way, his steps as loud and threatening as his demeanor. Through and through, seconds by seconds that seem to stretch on forever until his eyes finally, finally gloss over your figure leaning on a nearby wall, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as your mind begins to turn.

And the very second that his gaze locks onto yours, time slows to a screeching halt.

There’s something in there that you rarely saw in him before, but that you’ve been seeing a lot more of recently.

That anger, that frustration, all of that adrenaline mixed all that hate and vitriol coursing through his veins…he needed to get all of it out, every last drop before he makes another misstep.

He needs you.

Shouldering his way past various sports reporters and camera people, he quickly makes his way across the hallway to you, his large figure towering over you as you begin to shrink further and further against the wall. He’s panting, partly from the resulting emotions following his match and partly from how rough the match in question ran his body.

His hand finds your wrist, gripping it tightly and without a single word from him, he pulls you from the wall and begins to walk away again, Solo and Heyman striding behind him while the media frenzy behind you all follows along.

“Roman, wait-”

He turns his head to the side and makes eye contact with you again, the look in his eyes telling you everything you need to know.

Not now.

All the words you were going to say fall right back down your throat and you gulp, the intensity in his eyes making your knees weak as you try your best to keep up with his pace. It doesn’t take long for your group to head back to his larger-than-anyone-else’s locker room, Solo being the last one inside as he shuts everyone else out besides himself, Heyman, you and Roman.

Paul quickly sets the championship belts aside on a nearby table while Roman runs a hand through his hair, running a hand over his face before taking a seat on one of the benches.

It’s quiet in here, all too quiet albeit for the clamoring noise outside…and this silence does not make you feel hopeful at all.

You all just…sit in that silence for a few minutes, stewing in it as the reality of what had just occurred mere moments ago finally sinks in for all parties involved.

“Wise man…”

All eyes fall to Roman as he stands to his full height, the sound of his voice booming like a lightning strike. This is the first time he’s spoken anything since initially leaving that ring. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?” Paul asks, somewhat shaken still.

“Leave us.”

That seems to garner a reaction from Heyman, the shorter man wringing his hands in front of him before clasping them together. “But…But, my Tribal Chief, we need to deliberate, come up with a plan for this Friday night on Smackdown! We need to strategize, to concoct a plan for how we’re going to deal with those nuisances that are The Usos…we cannot just-”

“I said, leave us. Or do I have to ask you again, Paul?”

His words send a stream of ice down Heyman’s spine, causing the man to stand upright as Roman turns to face him. His aura, what he radiates from within…you do not want to find yourself on the other end of that; it feels like a wall slamming into you at mach 10, wrapping its edges around you until you’re damn near suffocating in it.

“I…I understand, my Tribal Chief. I will leave you two to yourselves.” Paul bows out when he says this, his eyes flickering to the ground and away from Roman’s face before standing and quickly waddling back towards the locker room door, opening it to a barrage of sports media and cameras all vying for the chance to ask Roman even one question.

“The Tribal Chief will not be taking anymore of your unimportant questions at this time as he begins to take his rest after his extraordinary showing in tonight’s match. All questions, comments, and concerns shall only go through the Tribal Chief’s wise man - that being myself - and I shall relay them back to the Tribal Chief in due time. Thank you, and good evening to you all.”

Heyman’s words just spark another wave of noise from the now growing crowd of individuals at Roman’s door while Roman looks on at Solo who stands in the corner by the door, looking on at the onslaught with a scowl permanently tattooed onto his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Roman nods at Solo, jutting his chin towards the door in a silent request for him to leave and luckily, the other man follows his order without another word, though you doubt he would have spoken otherwise. He throws a look in your direction, but not one of malice; this one has more…hurt lingering within it, a nature of distraught that you’ve never seen within him before he takes his leave after Heyman and slams the locker room door behind him…

…which leaves you alone, finally alone, with the unhinged beast that is Roman Reigns.

Being in a space with Roman Reigns, you can feel how much of himself fills it: his aura, his stance, his voice, his demeanor…no matter how big or small a room, you can damn well tell that Roman’s in there. You could practically sense it in the air when he arrives, hairs rising on your firearms as all around you grow silent. However, as long as you are not his prime target, you will most likely walk out of that room unscathed - emphasis on most likely.

But being alone in a space with Roman Reigns?

All of those feelings? All of those senses get hiked up to an eleven, the very room that the person is in feeling as though it’s shrinking around them as it seemingly pushes them closer and closer together.

And you, right now, are that poor soul in question.

Your hands grip the hem of the shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, the one that he gave to you and told you to wear once you were supposed to come out after the match was over…after he was supposed to win - nervously, your eyes falling to the floor and sticking to the shoes that you wear.

You see Roman’s feet walking towards you before they pause, then moving in the opposite direction as they head towards the locker room door as well…only this time, your heart rate rockets straight to the moon once you hear the sharp clicking of the door’s lock turning, that noise bouncing off the walls of your mind like an echoing cavern.

The silence in the room is unbearable with a tension so thick, you can cut right through it with Roman’s steely gaze. It’s all too warm, too stuffy, too suffocating while you stand there, your teeth making a home in your bottom lip as you shift from foot to foot.

What do you say to him? What do you say at all? Do you commend him on a match well performed? Do you take Heyman’s route and curse Jimmy and Jey’s names until the breath runs clean from your lungs and you’re all hot in the face as well? Do you take Solo’s approach to things and just say…nothing? Nothing at all?

What can you possibly do to even try to rectify things for him? Make things any better than they are at this moment in time?

All of these questions and more surround your brain and hold it hostage, unable to think of anything else. Is there anything that you can do to make him feel better? You’re supposed to be his, his girl…but with something as monumentally damaging to him as tonight was, so is there anything that you can do?

You don’t even notice him making his way towards you until he’s almost directly in front of you, watching your every movement like an unbound predator stalking its oblivious prey. The room around you grows way too hot way too fast as he continues to move your way, his footsteps soft yet booming as loudly in your ears as your own heartbeat.

As he takes one step forward towards you, you take an equal one back. One step forward, one step back.

One forward, one back, and this little game of yours goes on and on and on until you’re cornered up against the furthest wall, Roman’s hands pressing against the wall at the sides of your face. His chest nearly touches yours in the process and its rise and fall nearly matches the way your own does but you hold your breath and pray to the gods.

For what, you wonder?

For solace? For comfort? For a way out from his grasp, or a way to sink further beneath it? Space to breathe or to suffocate in all that is Roman Reigns? Entirely everything from him and absolutely nothing of him all at once? You don’t even know for sure but unfortunately, those prayers are left unheard and unanswered.

You hear him call your name, the syllables he speaks wrapped in a depth that twists and turns your very core. He doesn’t have to say much to grab your attention, after all.

“Look at me.”

But, can you? Can you really?

You can’t even bring yourself to do that, lest you wish to crumble beneath his unwavering gaze.

However, Roman is not one to take no for an answer; he never really has, especially nowadays. So when he speaks to you again, the very atmosphere of the locker room seems to shift and change under his words, underneath the dominance that is just solely and utterly him.

“I said, look at me.”

His fingers are suddenly underneath your chin, thumb and forefinger gripping it with just enough force to pull a strained noise from the back of your throat as he forcefully tilts your chin up so that you have to look up at him.

The soft gasp that you let out when you finally look up at him, into those dangerous eyes of his…you can see what it does to him by the roll of his shoulders as he stands to his full height, towering above you so much so that the too-bright lights that illuminate the locker room get blocked out.

You didn’t really get the chance to truly look at him through the monitor you were watching the match from and not even as he stampeded his way through the throngs of people all vying for his attention…but now?

Right here, in this moment, any and all words you could have possibly said to him evaporate on your tongue as your feet remain glued to the floor, your pulse thrumming through your entire body.

The wide panes of his chest stretch with each and every deep breath that he takes, his heart beating so damn loud that it fills the room and suffocates all other noise besides it. You feel the leather of his glove brushing against your chin where it wraps around his fingers, the force behind his grip being just strong enough to let you know not to mess with him.

Roman’s entire form from the waist up glistens with sweat and you can already see the soon-to-be bruises on his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his abdomen already begin to show.

His eyes are dark, darker than they have ever been before as he towers above you, slightly panting while his aura threatens to swallow you whole. There’s an obvious anger lingering within them, the deep-set betrayal and agony over losing his family and his undefeated streak finally sinking in along with the newfound uncertainty of the future to come…but there’s something else there in those eyes of him, something that makes sweat bead out along your brow and has your thighs clenching together as you dig your teeth into your lip so hair that it nearly bleeds.

Something more.

Roman sees this, what he does to you, and has to resist the urge to crack a smirk; you’re so easy to toy with. He can barely say a word to you, can just look at you only to have you a trembling, whimpering mess before him.

It’s reasons like these that drives his need for you so through the roof, and tonight means no different to him at all.

Just as he thought, you let out a whimper when you meet his eyes, your body threatening to go limp in his hold. His presence is just so much and it does so much more to you than you’re ever willing to say, but you absolutely love it either way.

You don’t notice him beginning to lean in closer to your own face, too stunned to even think of moving before he’s all that you can possibly see, his hair almost framing your own face as he tilts his head slightly to the side.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as it fans out over your face, spicy and hot and smelling of the cinnamon gum you saw him chewing earlier in the day. He tilts your face in the opposite direction, sighing as his eyes leave yours before he leans forward to press his face against the crook of your neck, burying his nose against the skin while the hand that remains on the wall curls into a fist.

Another gasp leaves your throat when he steps forward again, your hands unchelching themselves from where they rest at the hem of your - his - shirt as his chest presses against yours, warm and built and smothering in all the right places. When you raise your arms up from your sides to run your fingertips up his chest, over his shoulders, over his forearms, you can feel him just barely shiver beneath your touch.

His body calls out for you just as yours does him, and you can feel the buzz of all the energy still coursing through him, driving him up the wall as he leans further into your touch. And when you flatten your hands against his skin, the groan that he lets out rolls through our entire body, his chest vibrating against yours.

You feel him moving against your neck and you stretch further to the side to give him room, his lips forming into words that he wouldn’t dare say aloud with others nearby as his gloved hand moves from your chin to grip the base of your neck.

You know what this is, you know what this means; you’ve been here in this position before with him, especially much more recently with all of this newfound familial drama that’s dropped itself at the other end of his table.

With the seemingly endless amounts of adrenaline crawling beneath his skin, the cinching, tight feeling of his skin and the burning sensation that bubbles deep within his core, it’s no wonder why he’s cornered you like this, why he’s closing in on you, why he’s so bent on draping you in him.

I need you, baby, please.

Those spoken yet unspoken words he uttered into your skin make your eyes widen as a similar heat begins to spark within your own core, Roman trapping your leg between his own and pressing his cock against your thigh. It makes your skin crawl in the best ways possible, what he does to you, the anticipation mixed with everything that he just is making your mind hazy.

Your hands rise from his shoulders up the base of his neck, curving further up towards his hair before wrapping your fingers through it and gently pulling his head back up to face you, your eyes meeting his once more (how the hell did they manage to get even darker?).

Despite the fear that runs through your veins, despite your hands being in his hair and on his skin as you lead him towards you, he’s still the boss around here.

Roman still calls all the shots, no matter who or what stands before him - including you.

And even despite that as well, your body still wants him just as much as he wants yours.

It’s not even a want anymore; your body needs him, it desires him.

As for Roman, your body, your comfort calls out to him like a siren’s song, wanting him to pull you deeper and deeper into whatever’s going on within his own head until your entire body knows nothing but him, nothing but your Tribal Chief.

The fatigue that you know he feels is beginning to set into his bones, into his soul, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because he needs you, more so than he ever has in the past.

The sparks are beginning to show between the two of you; there’s nothing in this world like spending a night with someone like Roman Reigns, and you’re about to experience that firsthand once again.

You see the slight raise of his brow as he scans your face, that miniscule action asking you for permission, for your go-ahead, for you to allow him to lose himself within you and to use you as he sees fit for the time being…

…and the nod that you give him right back is all that he needs to see.

It’s the only thing that he needs to see before surging forward to plant a searing kiss to your lips, the fist that’s curled against the wall, moving down to grip your waist as tightly as the hold he has on your neck, digging his fingers into the soft material of his shirt that adorns your figure.

You only get about half a second of realization before you notice that he’s on you, completely covering you with his body as he presses you up against the wall even more. Your hands move from his hair down his neck, grazing his jaw lightly before your nails begin to dig into the exposed meat of his shoulders.

He’s actively stoking the fire that’s now beginning to blaze within you, and you absolutely love it.

The leg that’s not actively trapped between his now finds itself wrapped around his waist right as Roman’s tongue slides between your lips, curling with and against your own before quickly taking over the kiss. And you let him, of course; he needs this, he needs you, and you’re willing to give him whatever’s necessary to satiate his incessant energy.

The way he knows how to pluck your body like a finely tuned instrument with the way he pulls moans and gasps from you, the drag of fabric on skin, the way his body seems to move perfectly in-sync with your own, pushing and pulling until the two of you radiate more hear than the core of the sun…there’s just something about kissing Roman that makes your toes curl and your cheeks ripe with heat just by thinking about it, let alone actually doing the deed.

It’s all fiery passion and full of the aggression he shows in the ring, the possessive nature he has over you to keep you close and a part of him always, the need to show you exactly who you belong to as he pulls you in so damn close that all you can even think to experience is just him and him alone…it’s a conglomerate mixture of beauty and pain and pleasure and you're drinking in every single drop of it.

You feel his teeth begin to sink into your bottom lip, the contact against the already red and raw flesh making you jump in his arms as he tugs on it harshly before letting go. Your eyes, hooded and blown out, meet his again, and you can practically read the words in his mind as his thumb reaches up to lightly brush over it.

You don’t get to do that, anymore. Only I can do that to you.

You watch as he thumbs over your lip again before coming back in for another kiss, your teeth nearly clashing against each other from how harsh the two of you collide. It’s messy, a battle of tongue and teeth that turns in his favor so damn fast, and you can’t resist the urge to just crumble beneath it.

Your arms loop around his neck and hold him as close to you as possible, not wanting to part from him for even a second until your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen so you’re practically forced to. But even that isn’t enough to stop the contact between the two of you, your nails digging into any piece of his exposed skin that you can possibly reach.

The smell of him fills your brain and flows through your very veins, hands holding onto you for dear life while his kiss steals all sense from your mind. Roman has always been able to do this but tonight, you lower your guards and have him take the reins (no pun intended), have him lead the way, follow his motions.

And his motions lead him to start moving backwards, pulling you away from the wall as your leg falls from his waist. Lips still furiously locked with yours, he effortlessly maneuvers the two of you away from the corner and towards a nearby bench, wrapping his arms around your waist before pulling you down harshly onto his lap.

You thought you could feel him before while he captured you in his stare against the wall, helpless to anything but exactly what he wanted to do with you?

Well, think again.

Your pelvis presses right up against his and the two of you let out a combined moan, your breaths mixing together before he shifts you over his thighs to press you against him even more. You start rocking yourself back and forth on his cock through the dark cargo pants that he wears, feeling it throb and jump with every pass. And your desire for his grows as well, the space between your thighs growing more damp by the second with your juices beginning to now stain your inner thighs.

The small shorts that you wear underneath Roman’s large shirt soon grow more uncomfortable than you’re willing to bear and Roman seemingly notices this as well, running his thumbs over the skin above your ass before not so gently pulling them down your legs. The second you feel the hit your ankles you kick them to the floor below, not giving a damn where they land as your lips remain slotted with his own.

Your hands run down the planes of his chest and circle your fingertip over the space above Roman’s heart, feeling the thrum of energy coursing through his being. His own hands run over your thighs, over the curve of your ass and up your spine as you shift even closer to him, the feeling of your soaked panties as they rub against the bulge in his pants making you pant against his mouth.

You feel his hands drift under the hem of your shirt, the mix of his skin and the leather of the glove he still wears making sparks fly. His lips move from your own down your jaw, the force behind the action making you gasp. Across your skin and over the curve of your ear, down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbone; there’s nowhere that’s left untouched by his eager mouth while his hands roam the heated skin beneath your top.

His teeth graze your skin lightly, causing your entire body to tremble with anticipation right before you feel the sharp stinging of his teeth digging into your flesh, a moan much louder than you should have let out escaping you. Roman’s tongue joins the fray as well, soothing the sting of his bite with each one that he gives you.

One by one, one after another he lays claim to your skin, a reminder to the entire world that despite everything, that despite everyone in his life…he still has you.

He still has you and you’ve let him have you.

The need to feel him, to feel his body even more so consumes your entire mind, your soul, your being, so you take the initiative and grip the hem of your shirt and raise it up your body, pulling it over your head and tossing that to the floor alongside your discarded shorts.

The bra that covers your chest is a lacy one, the same shade of bright red that adorns the glove on his right hand that matches right along with the panties that just barely cover your ass. ‘Figured that you might need a distraction in hindsight. I hope you like it…”

Your voice is small in volume but loud in its tone as you speak, quickly glancing down at his chest where your nails dig into the meat of his pectorals as he raises his head from the crook of your neck, your skin alight and buzzing from him marking it.

Oh, he likes it, alright. He fucking loves it.

Roman’s hands reach up to trace the details in the fabric, his thumb brushing over your nipple and making you arch into his touch. His brows slightly raise with intrigue; this was probably a surprise for him later, for when he won his match…well, not anymore.

Now, the sight of you in this number, one that you had put on just for him, mixed with the need lacing your voice and the lust swimming within your vision…it’s all so much, damn near too much for him to bear, his cock now actively throbbing and throbbing in the confines of his pants.

He needs you now.

“On your knees.”

His low tone shakes you right out of your lust-fueled haze, your eyes snapping open as you pant on his lap.The darkness swirling around within his eyes shows he means business and what Roman wants, Roman gets in spades.

You try your best to move from him, to escape the warmth and desire he’s so graciously provided for you in his own time of need but your methods of moving prove too slow for his tastes, Roman’s non-gloved hand reaching up to yank your head back by your roots, you yelping at the sudden pain.

“What is with you all not fucking listening to me today? I said, I want you on your goddamn knees, now.”

You try your best to nod with his hand in your hair, swallowing down the pathetic noise that threatens to break free before scrambling off his lap and sinking to your knees on the locker room floor, never once breaking eye contact with him as you begin to watch him tear his glove off. The sharp ripping of the velcro cuts through the thick fog that’s filled the air , leather being pulled between his teeth until finally, the damned thing is off and is tossed aside as well, his hand returning to the back of your neck.

Spreading his legs for you as slowly as he possibly can, he keeps your head solely directed at the intimidating bulge that lies within his pants, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his own eyes and what lies ahead for your future.

Roman’s nothing if not a beast, both in and out of the ring, and you can’t help but shudder when you gently plant your palms on the outsides of his thighs, looking up at him with the widest eyes you can possibly muster up.

You lick your lips nervously, your heart beating even faster in your chest as he literally talks down to you, your hands beginning to nervously run up his covered thighs as they make their way to his zipper.

And with each notch of its teeth that come undone, with every second that passes that turns into a minute and then to an hour, you manage to push past the nerves that run wild through your veins and undo his pants, slipping your fingers beneath the dark boxer briefs he has on and tugging them down along with his pants to reveal the true monster that lies before you.

Roman’s cock falls from its confines with a dull thud as the head connects with his stomach, leaving a clear splotch of pre-cum where it lands. 

The shape of his cock, thick as a tree trunk and just as heavy and absolutely perfect as it is…the space between your thighs aches with the countless memories you have of him fucking you senseless with it,pounding into you and making you see stars over and over again-

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do here, princess. Or, are you too much of a dumb whore to even think for yourself now?”

You blink once, twice, three times as heat rises to your face, wiping the spit that threatens to fall from the corner of your mouth before you move forward, dragging your nails along the smooth skin of his upper thigh.

And as much as he loves to mark you and lay his claim to you, you love doing the exact same thing to him as well.

You live for the hiss he lets out from the pain of your nails, your teeth on his skin and grazing his pelvis as you move closer to his cock.

Such a man, such a being before your very eyes, and he’s all yours tonight, just as you are all his.

You let your nails and the tips of your fingers drag up the sides of his shaft, the length almost as long as your entire forearm. It’s a beautiful thing to see first hand as you admire him, your touches light and fleeting as your wide eyes continue to pierce his. You watch his abdomen clench and ripple when you catch his more sensitive spots, his hips bucking when you run your hand over the large vein that runs up the side.

A smile begins to grow along your lips as you watch him, his other hand running over his face and jaw. You can’t help but to admire him like this, slowly but surely as though you have all the time in the world to do so.

But, based on the absolute storm lingering within Roman’s eyes, you can tell that he’s in no teasing mood, the hand at the back of your neck squeezing threateningly before you finally get the hint to keep fucking going.

So, you do, tightening your grip around the base of his cock and stretching your lips around the head, letting the warmth of your breath wash over it before slowly beginning to sink your mouth down on him.

And, oh, what a sight he becomes before you.

“Fuck, that’s it…” he moans, watching through hooded eyes as you manage to slide the first few inches down your throat. With your smaller hands, you can barely wrap one of them around him fully - let alone two - but you try your best anyway, making sure to jerk the parts you can’t quite reach yet.

The ache between your legs becomes too much to bear as you begin to bob your head up and down, lustily taking him in while your eyes begin to close. With skin sensitive and hot to the touch, you take one hand off of him and begin to run it down your body. Over the curves of your breasts and as they threaten to spill from your bra, down the line of your abdomen, over your pubic bone and thumbing the lining of your panties, you let out another moan when you start to grind your clit against your fingers.

You don’t think that Roman notices it, the shift in your demeanor and the way your shoulders tighten up when you slip your fingers beneath your panties, the way your breath catches and your hips jump as you tease yourself…but he does.

He always does.

“Aww, are you that desperate, baby? You couldn’t help but touch that needy little pussy of yours? I can hear it all the way up here, you’re so wet for me.”

You can practically hear his smirk while he talks, but it still makes you hot all over. Spreading your wetness over your lower lips, you spread them and rub the pad of your finger over your bare clit, your body jolting at the pleasure it spikes through you.

“You want to touch yourself, fuck yourself with those tiny fingers of yours?” he asks, seething at the feeling of your teeth grazing the vein along his shaft. “Then, go ahead. Get yourself nice and ready for me…”

“..and don’t forget about me either, sweetheart,” Roman chides, briefly pulling you from the head with a soft pop before thumbing your lower lip. “Don’t make your Tribal Chief play second best to your needy fucking cunt.”

Your thighs clench and close in around your hand, a soft “yes” falling from your open lips before he presses your face right back against his cock as you begin to take more than you did before. You try to make your mouth as slick with your own saliva as possible, stroking his shaft in tandem with the swirling of your tongue around the head.

His hand lightly connects with your cheek. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, my-”

“And don’t speak with your mouth full, baby. You’re better than that.”

He glares at you as you rise from his cock again, panting softly. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he tells you, patting your cheek condescendingly. “Now, get back to work.”

The copious amounts of spit from your mouth mix with his pre-cum as your hand glides along the warm skin, the sound just as loud and slick as the ones coming from between your legs. It doesn’t take long for him to take back control, roughly guiding your lips back to his cock before letting you do what you do best.

As your throat grows accustomed to his girth, you shift yourself on your knees and slip a finger between your folds, circling your hole with it and gingerly slide it in, choking around Roman’s length in the process.

A bright flush begins to run wild under his skin as he tilts his head back, the soft sounds of his huffs and groans making the space between your thighs almost uncomfortably wet as you continue to touch yourself. His other hand runs through his hair, pulling at the roots while his face scrunches up in pleasure when you twist your fist around the head just right.

It fills you with a feeling that you can’t describe, seeing what you do to him in moments like these.

“Shit, princess, keep going…” Roman’s near breathless now, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his hips buck into your eager mouth. Eyes hooded, his attention stays on you while your own remain closed, focusing all of your energy on making sure your Tribal Chief is as primed and ready to go as you are.

You ease another finger in between your folds along with the first one and curl them as they drag along your inner walls; it’s not enough, it’s never enough when it’s just you because your fingers aren't his, your touch isn’t the same as his. Roman’s fingers fill you twice as much as your own do, the phantom feeling of them stretching you to the brim as they graze along that one spot wracking your body with shivers.

The room is brimming with the wet sounds of your motions, your juices dripping down the hand that remains at your core while your eager lips and tongue schlick up and down his throbbing cock, the noises coming from the both of you getting swamped in the mess of it.

The sight and sound of you struggling to take his length seems to light a fire under his ass and his grip at the back of your neck grows tighter, Roman starting to force the visible stretch of him taking over your mouth and throat even more so, bucking his hips against your face and making sure that you take what you’re given.

“Oh, you wanna please your Tribal Chief, baby? Well, then, take all of it.”

With that, you feel him wrench your head further down his shaft, your throat closing in around him and squeezing as you choke on him. The hand in your hair tightens the further down his shaft you go, your throat tightening with each and every inch you take, your gag reflex fighting for dear life as you struggle to take him fully.

The few inches you have left to go get wrapped in your fist, your fingers shiny with your spit and noisily stroking him until he presses down on the back of your head just that much more for you to 

He needs this, he needs you, and you’re going to take everything he has to give you, just like he asked.

So you brave through it, tears in your eyes with your lungs burning and begging for air, you bare through it for Roman, and the loud moan that you get from him in response makes the fire licking within your core burn all the more brighter.

You try to speak with his cock in your mouth, your garbled attempts at calling his name making him shove you further down. “Do that again, princess. Moan for me again while you get that pussy nice and ready for me.”

And moan for him you do, hearing your blood rushing through your ears as the sensing the heavy press of his hand on your neck squeeze tighter and tighter, Roman intently watching and feeling the length of his cock stretch against the walls of your throat.

It’s not long at all before you feel the telltale signs of your own orgasm approaching: the tightness coiling within your core, the curling of your toes and the pulsing in your abdomen, the sweat beginning to bead on your brow, the way that the pace of your hand around his cock and the hand between your legs seems to uptick bit by bit as the seconds go by…

You’re not at all shocked that Roman catches whiff of this too, hearing the now sped-up sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over again as you soak your panties clean through. “Don’t you dare cum, don’t you dare fucking cum. Only I can make you do that, you got that? Me, not those pathetic fucking fingers of yours.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Your voice is muffled and your throat strains while you attempt to speak as you try your best to breathe through your nose, feeling lightheaded the more you try.

But his words make you feel not and sensitive all over, the hairs on your arms raising as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, gasping when he lifts your head from the base to tightly wrap his fist around it.

“Fuck!” you hear Roman yell before his hand tightens around your hair again, yanking your mouth clean off his cock, drops of spit and his pre-cum dripping down his shaft and catching the too-bright lights of the locker room. You sit before him panting and wheezing, taking in precious breaths of air as you cough and open your now tear-filled and blurry eyes for him.

Your throat and your chest burn from the abuse they’ve taken, the back of your head and neck sore from all of his manhandling while your knees ache from the carpet on the floor of the locker room digging into your skin…but you know that he still needs you, because he’s not done with you yet.

You try to wipe your mouth clean of the mess, your makeup now completely smudged and running down your face as the mix of your saliva and his cum drips from your chin and stains the bra you wear but he doesn’t allow it, taking your chin in his hands and leaning forward off the bench to steal your precious breath away once more with a kiss so fiery that it ignites a fire within you from the inside out.

“Get on your back,” he growls, hand creeping up the sides of your neck and giving it a tight squeeze. “I need to see how ready for me you are.”

Slowly, you pull your hand from your ruined panties and tug them off your legs, kicking the damp scrap of fabric to the side where the remainder of your clothes lie just as he stands from the bench, towering over you and staring down at you menacingly. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra and shimmy it down over your arms, the nearly ruined item soon following all of the other clothes you’ve discarded until you’re finally exposed to his wandering, hungry eyes.

That’s the push that he needs to trail after you as you spread your legs for him, the sounds of him languidly stroking his cock to the sight of you teasing yourself with the wetness that stains your hand.

And what lies in front of you is just as godly, the sight of him shuffling his pants down his thighs and exposing the beautiful tanned skin that you just had your palms running over, stroking himself to the sight and sound of you pleasing yourself with flushed cheeks and the marks from your nails covering his chest and shoulders…the whine you let out cuts through the air and you can’t resist the urge to reach out to him, to call to him and bring him to you-

“You get what I give you, baby, when I want to give it to you and how I want to give it to you. Not when and how you want.”

Roman kneels to your height, his knees hitting the locker room floor with a dull thud and begins to stalk towards you, sirens wailing off inside your mind right as he crawls over your body looking every inch the beast that he claims to be.

“Roman,” you mewl, feeling him run his palms up the flushed skin of your legs. His hand latches onto your wrist and pulls it from between your thighs, holding it up to the light and watching your juices drip from your fingers before slipping them into his own mouth.

You watch as his lips close in over them, his tongue swirling around them to catch every last drop of your essence before slipping them from his mouth with a dark grin. Your aroma, now more potent than ever, fills his lungs with every single breath he takes, even more now with the taste of your arousal staining his tongue.

Every nerve and thought in his body roars at him, screams and demands for him to bend you over and fill you with his cum, to take you over and over again until everyone in this entire goddamn arena knows exactly who the hell you’re with, you’re spending your time with and who’s dealing with you.

Paul, Solo, Jimmy, Jey…they’ll all know exactly who the fuck runs things in this little circle of theirs, this fight for true and utter control.

And it will happen, you just have to wait a tad bit longer for it.

You’re so warm as you lie beneath him, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs as you wait in ample anticipation for his next move. Brushing his hair back with one hand, he slowly runs them up your body, over your plush thighs and past your dripping core that beckons him in closer.

Over your waist and up your chest until he takes your breasts in his hands and rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pulling on them and twisting them until you cry out his name.  The pain makes sparks ignite in your core and Roman refuses to let up on his hold despite the noise, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and biting down on it as he plays with the other one.

Those hands of his, the same ones that bring you pleasure are the  same ones that have brought his own family pain, and that thought is not lost on Roman as he continues to play with you, reveling in the litany of pitiful noises leaking from your trembling lips.

He will not show you the same pain that his cousins brought onto him, nor that he had brought to them.

For you, things are…different.

You’ll never leave his side at the head of the table, never abandon him for some other, higher purpose; you’ve said so yourself before tonight many a time.

Your legs wrap around his waist and lock him in as you dig your nails into the carpet you lay on, it already starting to dig into your skin. But you need more from him; more of him on you, around you, more of his touch and his mouth and his cock, just more.

With your feet, you try your best to shove his pants down further over his ass and down his legs, only managing to get so far before he stops you with a firm yet quick slap to your ass.

He doesn’t even have to remove his mouth from your breast to tell you anything, glaring up at you while his tongue laves away at your nipple before moving away from it and suctioning his mouth onto the other.

Your entire body trembles; what does he have planned next for you? What more could he possibly pull from you as he manhandles your body, squeezing and grasping at you like you’re going to somehow sink into the floor if he removes himself from you?

And then all of your questions are answered when you see him rise from your chest, his lips plush and a shade of bright red as a thin line of his saliva connects them to your breast before it snaps. You feel him press down on your waist, making you relax further against the floor until he wraps his hands around your ankles and begins to fold your legs into your chest, your knees grazing your face just so.

“Hold them,” you hear Roman say damn near under his breath, the depth in his voice making you whine as you wrap your hands under your knees to keep your legs raised. The trembling of your body increases as your anticipation grows and everything in your body tells you to close your eyes and look away from him, but you just can’t.

He’s beautiful in the way he gazes down at you, zeroing in on the way the walls of your cunt clench around nothing and shine with your arousal under the light, licking his lips like a caged animal. He might as well be one anyway with the possessive nature that consumes him when he has you, when he’s with you.

A hitch in your breath comes and goes when he moves even closer, gripping his cock firmly with one hand before using the other to spread your lower lips, the sound of him spitting on them reaching your ears before you feel it. It’s slick, it’s obscenely nasty as he swipes his cock head through the glistening mess, spreading the wetness around even more so as to get you as well as possible before you feel the hefty warmth of the head slapping against your folds.

The weights of it, and the thought of what’s to come have you arching your back into the sensation, desperate to reach your hands up to grip him and pull him into you, to have them just get it over with already and to make you see stars. And you do flex your fingers in his direction, squeezing the space beneath your knees and spreading your legs further for him to tease and prod at you while he just stares on with a smirk slowly beginning to grow along his face.

“Patience, baby, patience,“ Roman murmurs, sliding the head of his cock through your folds and nudging your button with it. The action sends a bolt of lightning jolting up your spine, causing you to dig your fingers into the flush of your lower thighs, and toss your head to the side with a small whine.

“Please, Roman, I need it. I need you, just fuck me, please –“

He shushes you, placing a finger to your lips before slipping his thumb between them. You instinctively wrap them around the digit and pull it in deeper with your tongue, swirling the muscle around it before he slowly but surely post it out. “I said to have patience, baby girl, so don’t be greedy. Just lay back, be a good girl, and take what your Tribal Chief gives you.“

He ends his sentence by dragging that wet thumb over your lips, down your chin, and rests harshly against your clit, grinding his shaft against your folds as he plays with you. You feel like your heart is about to fly out of your chest with how fast it’s beating, watching as he moves even closer to you and presses himself even harder against you.

“Nice and wet for me, princess…you did good for me back there.” You revel in the small bit of praise, a ghost of a smile floating over your lips until you feel the blunt head of his cock brushing up against your entrance. “You still ready for me?”

You can’t nod your head fast enough. “Yes, please. Roman, I’m ready for you, I’m ready-”

At the feeling of him finally stuffing you full of his cock, his chest keeping pressure on the backs of your legs and folding further into yourself, tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes at the newfound pressure.

The familiar burn of Roman pushing into you but by bit, inch by gloriously thick inch, has you itching to latch onto him in any way that you possibly can - and you eventually do, removing your hands from holding your legs to placing them on Roman’s shoulders as soon as he gets close enough.

That fire he had stoked inside of you now grows to an inferno the more of himself he bullies into you, stretching you out to fit his cock just right is making your mind hazy. The quick and constant fluttering of your walls around him makes him groan, dropping his head to your knee.

Your nerves fry and your eyes cross as he continues to move, every single wall within you absolutely crumbling because of it. And It feels like forever and a day has passed before he eventually bottoms out inside you for the first time tonight as you nearly lose your mind on his cock, your toes starting to curl and your thighs flexing.

The guttural moan that leaves Roman’s chest rocks you to your very core, the sound of the wetness between your legs and the pressing of him against your ass turning your insides to mush. One of his hands rests at your waist and keeps you close, his body leaning on your own so much that his nose just barely brushes against yours.

You whine his name, the shrill noise and the desperate look in your eyes turning all dials up to eleven. The huffs and small moans leaving your throat, your body already run ragged before he’s really gotten the chance to fuck you senseless yet…it all just makes him want to ruin you even more.

He can’t figure out where to keep his eyes; he wants to look at all of you, from the way your chest heaves and your breasts move from your breaths to the way your pulse jumps at the vein in your neck to the apex of your thighs where your arousal stains and sticks to the skin of his pelvis, there’s almost too many options for him.

But when you squeeze down his shoulders and bring his attention back to the feeble look in your eyes, he can’t help but toss his head back and sigh because look at you, with your lip quivering just as much as your cunt is and the way you gently thump your head against the carpeted floor as his hand runs over your abdomen and presses against the outline his cock made inside you.

His ears fill with the sounds of your sex, your legs seemingly permanently glued to his chest while he wraps an arm around them, keeping you right where he wants you as his hips begin to move.

And the slide of him moving back and forth along your walls, his hips pulling back from your ass and dragging the head of his cock back towards your clit before moving back in just as slowly causes your entire lower body to twitch.

“Roman…Roman, please,” you beg him. You don’t even know what you’re even begging him for anymore: for more? For him to pick up his achingly slow pace? For him to close the distance between his mouth and yours so you can taste him all over again?

But he doesn’t appeal to your cries nor does he break when you seem to grow even wetter for him as he begins to thrust in and out, back and forth, dragging your hips higher into the air and folding you even further into yourself.

He still, however, refuses to look anywhere else other than at your face, in your eyes as he rolls his hips into you, dead set on ever single noise and jerking movement your body gives him.

His brow furrows; how could he not look at you when you’re like this, mouth wide open with your tongue lolling out of your mouth, pointed in the air as it tries to lick at his lips while you fan the flames of the fire you’re sparked inside of him?

You try your best to rock your hips in tandem with his own, bucking them as best you can whenever his pelvis meets your own and he bottoms out inside you. You can feel the head of his cock grazing that sweet spot along your walls, almost kissing your cervix every single time he bears down on you. His weight strains the muscles at the back of your legs when he pulls forward every time but you don’t care, you don’t care because all that matters is him and how well he fills you.

Roman doesn’t speak a word to you, only letting out groans and grunts with the occasional low-toned moan for your ears only, but everything that you hear makes your entire body vibrate with a deeper need. 

Eventually, his pace does begin to increase, the erotic melody of his hips tap, tap, tapping against yours growing into him beginning to use his true power to make you cry out. And cry out you do, your brain now clouded with innsense waves of pleasure as your screams for more grow in volume.

You don’t even attempt to lower your volume and neither does he, not caring about whoever may be listening in from outside the no-that-far-away locker room door - and in the back of your mind, your last shred of sentience thanks Roman for preemptively locking it when everyone else had left.

The force behind his thrusts leaves you absolutely breathless as you stare helplessly into his eyes, moans and huffs flowing from your lips like a waterfall while the pleasure in your core ticks up bit by bit.

The faster he pounds into you and the longer he goes on, the more your walls close in around him like a warm, silken vice, your cunt tightening in around him and not letting him go at all. Your pleasure spikes when he moves his hand down slightly to pinch your clit, making you jolt as you arch your back as best you can.

The rug beneath you scratches against your skin as he runs you ragged on top of it, your shoulder blades and the top of your back taking the brunt of the burn. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when you squeeze them closed, but the sharp sting of Roman’s hand coming down on your clit snaps them right back open again.

You hiss at the pain but it all just melts right back into pleasure all over again and it doesn’t escape his keen eyes, his flat of his hand coming down on the button over and over again. And you can’t resist the urge to rake your nails down his arms as your nerves flare all through your body.

The telltale signs of your impending orgasm are clear to you both: the dilation in your eyes, the way your thighs stretch and quake as he presses down on them and how quickly you begin to pant.

“Fu-uck, Roman, I need…I need-”

The feeling of Roman’s hand sliding up your chest and around your neck cuts you off, your breath hitching and your eyes widening. “You need what, baby? Don’t go all shy on me now? Or have I fucked all the sense out of you already?”

He sneers and squeezes the sides of your throat, making you gasp. “You get to cum when I say that you can, when I give you the go ahead…you understand me? Hmm? Nod your head for me, baby girl.”

You follow his orders to a tee, staving off your looming orgasm by trying to focus on something, anything that’s not the pulsating feeling between your legs or the way he drives his cock into you, the build-up in his pace doing absolutely nothing to stop it.

“R-Roman…” Your voice is weak behind the grip of his hand, his thumb brushing along the front of your throat and pressing down.

“Not yet, baby girl. I didn’t say you could cum yet.” Each word he speaks is enunciated by a powerful thrust of his hips, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each one. “Don’t you want to be good for me? Don’t you want to please your Tribal Chief?”

Your voice is soft when you attempt to answer him, crying out “yes, yes I do” as he plows into you harder than before, your back now actively rubbing against the coarse carpet every time Roman’s pelvis connects with yours.

He groans when he looks into your watery eyes, your cheeks stained with your tears and spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. Your face is a mess, your entire body is flushed right with heat, you look a mess, and it’s all because of him.

Your blubbering and the tears that flow from your eyes do something fierce to him as his own orgasm begins to crest, the way your walls grip his shaft driving him absolutely mad with desire. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from letting go, the sharp pain making him curse as his hips begin to stutter.

“Shit!” he yells, abruptly tearing his cock from you with a wet squelch, your arousal dripping from the head and staining the carpet. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he grips the base of his cock in his fist again before leaning in to plant a furious kiss to his lips, stealing what little breath you have left away once more.

It’s all teeth and tongue and fiery passion that stokes the already blazing inferno within your soul and when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and tugs on it, it hurts so good that you whine against his lips and arch into his touch when he pulls away.

Your voice is weak and slightly hoarse when you ask, “Roman?”

“Over the bench, baby. I want you on your hands and knees when I cum inside you.”

That steely gaze from before makes its return and you visibly cower beneath it, standing on shaky legs as you make your way over to one of the nearby benches before draping your weary and sensitive body over it. You feel exposed in this position - even more so due to the fact that you can’t even see him when he pulls the globes of your ass apart to gaze at how slick and messy you’ve become due to his actions.

His hand comes down on the skin and you jolt, scrambling to grab the cold wood of the bench before he does it again…and again.

And again and again as the sharp, stinging pain rings proud and true all over the meat of your ass, heat blooming beneath the skin and radiating off of it. Roman’s hand comes down on one, then the other, and then spreads them with one hand to deliver another blow right to your sensitive folds, causing you to let out a high-pitched scream that has you nearly bolting off the bench.

“Stay still,” he tells you, his chest rumbling as he lays a more firm slap on your ass, another whimper slipping from you. “You only move when I tell you to move, baby girl.”

Roman continues to lay blow after blow to your ass and now to your achingly wet folds, rutting his cock against you as you grind back against him, More tears leak from your eyes as the stinging pain begins to melt into aching pleasure, a litany of broken moans and sobs passing through your lips right before he slides his cock right back inside you.

He meets no resistance and his hips meet yours damn near instantly, picking up his brutal pace right where he left off while you gasp for air. It’s like you can feel his cock all the way in your lungs with how deep he’s pounding into you, the sound of skin hitting sticky skin bouncing off the walls of the locker room.

Your chest presses firmly against the bench, your breasts aching from how firmly he holds your hips against it while his pace goes into overtime. Everyone outside be damned, the noises leaving your mouth couldn’t be silenced even if the damn door was broken down.

The sounds of his name and cries for more fill his ears and he drifts a hand up your back, trailing his fingers up your spine before wrapping his hand in your hair and yanking your head back against his chest.

“That’s it, scream for me,” you hear him say in your ear, the drop in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You feel his lips trace the shell of your ear, biting down on it and then moving down to your jaw. His other hand grasps your chin and pulls your head to the side, his teeth grazing the side of your neck before he sinks his teeth into it.

And the yell that you let out because of it almost rattles the very walls that surround you as you weakly reach your arms back behind your head and wrap them around his own neck, keeping his head there as he plows into you. Your hips ache, your ass fucking burns from his pelvis colliding against it, everything on your body stings and aches and hurts but you love it, you love it all.

You can feel the marks and bruises that his hands,his lips, his teeth leave on your body already begin to bruise, and you can already tell that the ones staining your ass are going to make it hard to sit down or even walk for days to come…

But you’ll wear those marks, those bruises, you’ll wear everything with your head held high and with pride in your eyes because despite all that Roman’s faced these past few months, he still has you willingly and wholly and wholeheartedly.

The sweet kiss of your orgasm comes to fruition again and you can feel that wave begin to crest over; you won’t be able to last much longer if he keeps going at the pace he’s at right now, your toes curling as you dig your own nails into his scalp to pull his head from your neck. You instinctively squeeze around his cock, feeling his balls slap against your clit over and over again and making you jump and jolt around.

“R-Roman, please, ’m gonna…, I need to, please-”

He can’t help but groan as he roughly kisses the side of your head, holding your beginning-to-go-limp upper body close to his chest. “Fuck me, baby, you’re gonna cum? You’re gonna soak my cock and stain the floor?”

You feel him smile against your cheek when you nod. “I feel you clenching around me, princess, so why don’t you be a good girl for your Tribal Chief and cum for me? I want this pussy sloppy fucking wet by the time I’m done with you.”

The weight of him against your back side, the way he slips a hand between your legs and begins to play with your clit again, furiously rubbing the bud between his fingers as he pumps his hips even faster…it has your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you pant like a bitch in heat, Roman playing you like a finely tuned instrument and pushing all of the right buttons.

It all comes to a head when he starts to murmur in your ear,words and wishes of how he’s going to fill you up just like how you want and leave you dripping full of his cum all over the floor by the time the night ends, firmly grasping your breast with his other hand and twisting your nipple fiercely.

Blood rushes to your ears so damn fast that you can just barely hear the words that leave his lips but once you do…oh, the reaction that he gets has him cheesing something fierce, those sharp teeth of his bared for the whole world to see.

Your entire body shakes, completely vibrates with the need to cum as you fly closer and closer to that edge, clinging to Roman for dear life - but not before he tilts your head to the side and kisses you so passionately that you fall limp in his hold, his tongue meshing together with yours.

“Don’t hold yourself back anymore, baby girl. Cum for me, cum for me now-”

He speaks against your lips and your inner walls give way to your orgasm, that wave cresting and your body bending along with it as you soak his cock with a cry so loud that it rings louder in your ears than your bloodrush does. Your heart feels as though it’s about to leap through your chest and out of your mouth, your hands drifting from his hair and your arms wrapping around his neck behind you.

You can feel his heartbeat racing in his chest as it presses against your back and it’s just as fast as yours, and a final high pitched moan escapes your mouth as you soak his cock completely, his hips stuttering against yours while his thrusts begin to slow.

You audibly moan at the warmth that fills your core when you feel him jut his hips against yours and stays there, fully inserted within you as his own climax takes the reins.

It feels like a punch square to his gut when his cock throbs against that sweet spot that lines your walls, his resolve crumbling and his mind going blank for a few seconds. “Fuck,” Roman groans, the sound rumbling through your whole body as you feel him paint your walls with his cum, the head of his cock pressing snugly against your cervix while he grips your flesh and digs his fingers in wherever he can put them.

Your thighs, your chest, your waist, your neck, it doesn’t matter; at the end of the night, your entire body is going to be covered in his marks, whether you like it or not.

Your brain is scrambled and he rests his head on top of yours, massaging your clit to get the final jitters of your orgasm out of you before he finally lets you breathe. Your vision remains blurry from a mix of how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut and from the tears that still linger within it, your face remains a stained mess from your destroyed makeup, and you don’t even want to talk about the state that your hair resides in…but in this moment, you’ve never looked more beautiful to him.

But, he’ll tell you that soon enough.

For now, he simply cradles your trembling body to his chest, his cock still snug along your inner walls as he rocks his body against yours; over and over again, calming the rocky waves of your climaxes - both yours and him - as he begins to take his own breath and takes the first seconds of the night to finally think about the events that have occurred.

His blood, his closest family has betrayed him, left him in the dirt and dust and tossed him aside…and now all that he has left is you.

You and the strength, the stability, the everything that’s left of his Bloodline reside within you, and he can’t let you go.

He just can’t.

He won’t let you go, not now and not ever…not after everything tonight.

As time passes and when he doesn’t speak, you take the first steps. “...Roman? Are you okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse and your throat dry from all of your screaming.

“Please…” you hear him whisper against your back, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he pants, still coming down from the force of his orgasm. “Please…don’t leave.”

Please don’t leave me.

And hearing that, hearing his voice crack slightly as his lips move from the nape of your neck upwards, curving up towards your jawline and around the shell of your ear…it breaks you, it utterly breaks something within your soul.

As you think back to the previous weeks, you could already see the threads of dissension within the eyes of Solo, the traps being laid by The Usos to bring the young man closer to their side and away from Roman’s.

The true and final nail in the coffin of the Bloodline, the removal of the Samoan Enforcer, the last shred of foundation that holds this entire empire of Roman’s together…you can feel it in his every motion, every single press of his fingers against your skin, every pull of his arms as he brings you in further and further to his own body: he’s terrified of losing everything, everything that he has left, everything that he is.

“I won’t, Roman,” you tell him, curling your body against his, allowing him to surround you with everything that he has and everything that he’s willing to give you. “I won’t leave. I’ll never leave, I promise.”

A few moments pass, and what precious moments they are. No words are spoken, barely any movements are made aside from the slight rocking of his hips against your own and the heaving of your chests as you both breathe, just…nothing.

A good nothing.

A good nothing that allows you both to just be in touch with yourselves and with each other.

After those few moments pass, you speak to him again, gently running your fingertips over his forearms. “Look, we’ll forge a new Bloodline, okay? Together. You and me and Paul and Solo-”

Roman buries his face in your hair at the mention of Solo’s name, taking a deep breath in of a scent that’s just entirely you mixed with tinges of him…a perfect combination, the perfect combination.

“If we can’t rely on your family to maintain this faction, this dynasty…then we’ll make a new one of our own. Bigger and better and more powerful than Jimmy and Jey could ever comprehend.”

A tense silence follows your words before Roman finds his own to respond.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your head, another kiss being pressed to your hair as he thinks. You’re right, after all.

If his own family won’t stand at his side, if he can’t rely on his own bloodline…then you two will create your own dynasty…together.

And together, the two of you will take down and dismantle whatever is left of Jimmy and Jey, for all of the new hell that they’ve now brought upon themselves.

And that’s not a threat, Roman thinks to himself as he curls his body around yours against the cool floor of the locker room, not wanting to get up nor remove himself from the comfort and relief that you provide him.

That’s a fucking promise.

“So..can I get my clothes now? And, are we gonna get up and unlock the door, or…?”

You feel his chest rumble as he chuckles, his smile against your skin growing just that bit wider. “Nah, they can all wait a few more minutes. Besides…”

“...I’m not finished with you just yet.”

Oh, fuck…

Tag List:

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please please please lmk if i missed anyone (on the tag list) and lmk if you wanna be added to it/removed from it! tysm and have a blessed one 😘✌🏾

[dancingbirdie]

This feels more like a character study of Astarion than anything else, but it's part of the series I'm working on called "The Planets Bend Between Us."

Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here.

Everything on Ao3 here.

My Astarion Spotify playlist here.

I hope you enjoy! Comments always appreciated and hoarded like shiny magpie trinkets.

Only You. Only Me.

Rating: Mature (for descriptions of sex/fantasizing)

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings/Tags: Astarion's trauma responses, mental health, coping mechanisms, self-degradation, discussion of sex/physical intimacy, angst, fluff.

Summary: Halsin propositions Tav, prompting another important conversation between her and Astarion. Astarion works through more of his feelings about Tav, physical intimacy, and recovering from the torture he previously endured.

***********************************************************

Astarion had always enjoyed reading. It was one of the very few discreet pleasures in which he could partake when skulking about Baldur’s Gate at night. He would read by the light of the lamp posts dotting the main thoroughfares, slouching against them and perusing texts at his leisure. He could even justify the habit to Cazador and his siblings, as on numerous occasions, it captured the attention of unsuspecting passersby who considered his behavior intriguing enough to strike up a conversation. It was a more passive means of gathering victims, true. It felt akin to fishing for prey as opposed to stalking them. But, still, it got the job done, especially on nights when his skin and bones still ached from his master’s beatings. 

Suffice to say, when he pilfered an armful of books from the druid’s grove several weeks ago, he was excited to finally indulge in the familiar activity once more. He had just selected a worn edition of Traveller’s Guide to the Sword Coast Vol. IV: The Risen Road and begun reading the author’s note when Tav barged into their shared tent with an audible huff. 

“Honestly, I was only making conversation…” she grumbled under her breath as she began aggressively rummaging through her pack to retrieve her night clothes. 

Astarion peered at her over the top of the tome, quirking a brow. 

“Is there something you want to talk about, my dear?” he casually intoned. 

Tav scoffed before turning to look at him over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation I’ve just had with Halsin,” she grimaced. 

Ah, so it finally happened, he thought to himself. He was grinning wickedly as he closed the book and laid it next to his bedding. 

“What’s that smile for?” Tav accused. 

A true, hearty guffaw burst from his mouth at that. Tav would have found it delightfully endearing if she weren’t so flustered. 

“I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this,” he replied, still chuckling. 

“What? How could you tell? Did he say something to you already?”

“I guessed! The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of Nature’s gifts’,” Astarion said, adopting a low, throaty tone to mimic the First Druid’s voice before cackling again. “Why, I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”

Tav clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “It’s ridiculous. I was trying to make conversation with him a few days ago, because he seemed lonely and out of place. I mean, at least we all sort of know one another now. Tadpole business and all that. I thought he could do with a friend. So I merely asked if he had someone special waiting for him back home. And, apparently, that’s a coded question for ‘I’m interested in you?’ Honestly,” she scoffed. 

Astarion continued to watch her with obvious amusement. 

Tav turned back around and began undressing. He swallowed thickly as he watched her shrug out of her armor and begin untying the laces of her chest binding. The fabric fell to the ground with a muffled thump. He caught a mouth-watering view of the side of her breast as she bent over to fetch her nightshirt. 

His nightshirt, to be more precise. She’d taken to wearing his clothes (with permission, of course) soon after they had begun sleeping together. Said article of clothing was long enough to serve as a nightgown on her.

His eyes followed the curve of her waist and hips as she slid her breeches over the peaks and dips of her legs. His chest began to feel a little tighter, his breathing a touch ragged. He knew he should turn away. Be a gentleman. Give her some privacy, even if she wasn’t asking for it. 

Tav had grown increasingly casual about her nakedness inside the confines of their tent. She wasn’t doing it as a means to tempt him, he realized. Experienced as he was given his former… raison d'être… he would have picked up on the first whiff of it had her intent been to cajole him into sleeping with her again. 

No, her behavior stemmed entirely from a place of trust. She let her guards down - physically and emotionally - with only him. It was a pure thing. Borne out of a sense of security that Astarion hadn’t thought anyone would ever feel with him. The thought alone was enough to send a surge of blood toward his groin. The tent suddenly felt a lot warmer than it had before she’d entered. 

They hadn’t slept together since the night of tiefling’s celebration. It wasn’t because he didn’t desire her. He did, much more than his conscious self possibly cared to admit. He was especially reminded of that truth during moments like these, when she undressed in front of him as though she had done it a thousand times before. Like she’d do it a thousand times again. The way she shared her body with him, even non-sexually, was enough to kindle fire in his blood.

But he still felt tainted, no matter how many times he scraped and scrubbed his skin clean. The sense of it was still there, like an invisible grime marking him as unclean. Unworthy. And the act itself was still tainted in his mind. It wasn’t an easy place to return from – that cognitive hellscape where sex was a weapon, a vulnerability to exploit, a means to another’s end. 

He would frequently picture himself filling her to the hilt, wrapping her legs around his waist, thrusting into her with all the passion he could muster. And at first, it would bring him nothing but unbridled feelings of pleasure. Of yearning. But then the vision would be overshadowed by other thoughts, memories of previous trysts. Reminding him of who he was. What he was. What he’d done to others. What had been done to him. And by the time he was able to beat back those intrusive thoughts, the urge to ravish her would be lost. And he would be left loathing himself for even thinking of touching her, or having her touch him, in that way. 

You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve her. That’s not meant for you. The thoughts would taunt him like crows circling a dying animal.  

He knew she wanted to be with him again. Of course, she never asked for it, the polite and empathetic sweetling that she was to him. They had discussed the subject thoroughly, and she had resolutely accepted his boundaries. He knew she’d never overstep them unless he permitted it. But he could feel her wanting in the desperate way she kissed him. In the way she touched him, so reverently, when they curled up in their bedding to rest. It caused his heart to flutter and fracture simultaneously. Because no matter how desperately he wanted to give her what her unspoken actions craved, he couldn’t figure out how to bypass those horrible memories and thoughts that plagued him. 

Things had gotten better, he had to admit. His aversion to touch and intimacy was slowly but surely fading. There were many nights he and Tav lay together in each other’s arms, lips moving together in perfect, glorious synchrony. They explored each other’s bodies – fingertips ghosting along skin, leaving heated trails of gooseflesh in their wake. 

“Tell me to stop,” she would whisper against his neck, her hands roving the planes of his body, as she peppered kisses along his jawline and the column of his neck. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“Keep going,” he would murmur in return, touching her just as desperately. “Please. Keep going.”

It would continue like that for some time, until it became too much. Until her touch stopped feeling like an analgesic to his mind and more like an agonist. He would tense, and she would feel it. He would quietly whisper “stop,” and she would halt immediately. He would clutch her in his arms, and they would lie still as he recovered. 

He wished he could give her more. Give her everything. She said she never minded. That she wanted them to take this slowly. And he believed her. But still. He knew he was a different sort of lover than she likely imagined her first to be. 

Which was why he had resolved to accept the possibility that she might want physical pleasure with someone else. Someone like Halsin, who could give her that attention immediately. Without the additional baggage and self-loathing that he came with. 

Under Cazador’s enslavement, the question of whether he preferred monogamy versus polyamory was just a cruel joke with an even crueler punchline. And before that, well, he couldn’t remember how he’d preferred his relationships. It was disorienting, to be so unsure of himself. Not knowing whether his decisions and preferences now were a reversal of his former personality or an exact alignment. Maybe some craved that sort of clean slate, but to Astarion it was terrifying. And enraging. 

But matters of self-identity aside, he had pondered long and hard about how he would respond were Tav to express interest in someone else. He had seen the way the gazes of some in their party lingered on her, knew they were curious about his little hellcat. Knew it was only a matter of time before someone became brave enough to proposition her. And he’d resolved to tell her, should she ask, that he would be all right with it. If she wanted to be intimate with another. He wouldn’t mind. 

Because it wasn’t her body he wanted, he had realized. While, yes of course, she was exquisite and beautiful and incomparable. She had a feral sort of beauty that drove his senses stark-raving mad sometimes. But what he really wanted – what he craved from her – lay so much deeper within. He wanted her heart. Her trust. Her pride. Her love. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He wanted to know it, wanted to learn. 

“It’s all right, you know,” he murmured finally. 

Tav turned to face him, tying her hair up in a tight bun for sleep. His nightshirt inched up her long, taut legs as she stretched. 

“What’s all right?” she frowned. 

“If you do wish to be intimate with him. I wouldn’t mind. I’m happy for you to have as much… Halsin as you wish.”

Tav just stared at him, her expression unreadable. 

“I just have one question, though,” he continued, pressing on while he still had the courage and vulnerability to ask. “It wouldn’t be because… you know… we haven’t… in a while?” 

The answer mattered so much to him. It was all he could think about for some time now. It made the defensive, self-preserving part of his mind absolutely seethe with rage, but try as he might, he couldn’t shake its importance.

Objectively speaking, he knew it was reasonable if she did respond with yes, it’s because we haven’t in a while, and I really do want to have sex. She was free to feel how she wished. He wouldn’t dare try to force her to stay with only him. He wouldn’t take her agency away from her like that. 

But still, he couldn’t deny that it would gut a part of him, if that would be her reason for taking the First Druid up on his offer. Astarion knew his penchant for misery and self-loathing would seize that answer like a prized jewel. Taunt him with the reality that he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t worth the effort, wasn’t deserving of anyone’s sole focus. 

“Astarion. Look at me,” Tav intoned, interrupting his frantic spiral. 

He hadn’t realized he’d dropped eye contact, his unfocused gaze instead directed somewhere to the side of her head. 

She knelt down before him, her knees pressing into his thigh. Gently, she took his hands in hers. 

“I don’t want to sleep with Halsin. I don’t want to sleep with anyone else,” she said resolutely. He could hear the conviction in her tone.

He stared at her, stunned into silence. In all his pondering and fretting over this, he hadn’t prepared for that answer. Once again, her response left him feeling flat-footed. 

“Listen,” she pressed forward, scooting closer into his side. “I’m fairly new at this, at all of this really. There’s a lot I don’t know about relationships and… physical intimacy… But I do know myself. And I know that sex doesn’t mean nearly as much to me as our emotional connection does. 

“Really?” Astarion whispered, his eyes darting rapidly across her face, desperate to suss out the truth.

Tav nodded seriously, squeezing his hands in hers. “While, yes, I want you in that way… it’s you I want, Astarion. Not the act itself. Just you.”

He wanted to break down in sobs at her words, at just how much they meant to him. That she just wanted him. Astarion. No gimmicks, no quid pro quo, no expectations. She had said it to him before in a different manner of phrasing, but he wasn’t sure if he would ever tire of hearing it. 

She couldn’t possibly understand how her simple truth, her sincere love for him, was upending his entire concept of life and relationships, like a meteor obliterating the ground beneath it. And out of that obliteration, something new and wonderful and terrifying was arising within him. 

Marvelous as it may be, it was still too much to process. The self-preserving part of him reared up in desperation, anxious to shield him from the unknown. He slipped into his costume of confidence and ease once more, although a distant part of him noted how this façade was beginning to chafe. 

“I know,” he chuckled with an offhanded shrug. He could sense the false bravado in his voice and wondered if Tav could discern it as well. 

“I was being foolish,” he continued. “But thank you for saying it.” 

Tav gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hands one last time before releasing them. 

“Of course, my star” she replied lovingly. “Let’s get some rest then, yes?”

“Yes, my darling. Let’s,” he returned.

He gathered her up in his arms as they burrowed down into their bedding. Tav sprawled on top of him, her head on his chest, a leg hitched between his, an arm banded across his waist. 

Within a matter of moments, she was fast asleep. Careful not to shift too much and wake her, Astarion picked up the previously discarded tome and resumed his reading. 

Astarion had always enjoyed reading. Although, he had to admit, the surroundings and company had dramatically improved since the last time he cracked open a book.

[nervoussagittarius]

i know it’s crazy but he’s the one i want

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: part two of strike out. after months of being apart y/n realizes she wants nothing more then to be with matt, and matt realizes how much he fucked up. part one

warnings: angst to smut. oral (fem receiving), p in v, no protection, matchmakers nick and chris

they slammed the door on

my whole world

the one thing i wanted

your world felt like it was turned completely upside down the minute you locked your front door on matt.

you wanted to run after him. you wanted to forgive him for everything, but something in you was telling you to hold back, to stay strong. you weren’t even sure if you knew the matt that stood with you 10 minutes ago. after a month of no contact there’s so much that could’ve changed. you definitely had changed. one one thing that stayed the same though was that you still couldn’t go more the an hour without thinking of matthew sturniolo.

matt blew up your phone that whole night. it took everything in you not to drive over to his house. you were a mess and he didn’t need to see you like that. you were supposed to be strong. you were the one who told him to leave after all.

a few more days past before you got a couple texts and a call from chris. you hesitantly answered. you hated to admit it but you missed him and nick. you missed matt too but you weren’t ready to admit that one out loud yet. “hello?” you answered. there was a beat of silence before you heard a sigh of relief from the other line. “hey y/n it’s chris. listen, i know you haven’t wanted to talk to us, and i understand, but nick and i need your help.” he sounded so stressed that you couldn’t help but worry about the pair. he didn’t give you time to respond before he continued his thought. “i know you don’t want to be with matt anymore, but he hasn’t left his room in almost a week. nick and i completely understand why you did what you did. matt told us what happened.. but he locked himself in and we don’t know what to do.” you teared up at the thought of matt being alone. yeah he enjoyed being by himself sometimes, but never to this extent. you couldn’t help but feel guilt for the way things went down. at the end of the day you were both in the wrong, and you desperately wanted to make things right.

“please just come talk to him. come see him. we tried to wait as long as we could to call you but it’s time. we have your back but he’s still our brother, and we don’t want to see him like this. nick and i really miss you. matt misses you” you didn’t confirm or deny if you would really show up. you wanted to talk to him. as much as he hurt you he didn’t deserve to feel how you have felt for months. you knew how shitty it was. “i miss you guys too.” and with that you ended the call. you didn’t need to specify who you were referring too. chris knew that you meant all three of them, and he hoped that you would come help his brother.

no i’m not coming to my senses

i know it’s crazy but he’s

the one i want

it took you almost two hours to work up the courage to go to the triplets house. you got in and out of your car 3 different times before you convinced yourself to finally turn it on and start driving. the directions were muscle memory at this point. having spent the last two years driving the same streets at least once a day, you weren’t a stranger to the street signs and the traffic. although it was almost 1 in the morning you had no worries about if the boys were awake or not. they always were at this time.

you felt weird pulling into their driveway. a spot that was once reserved for you now felt like a curse. it felt like you’d end up with three slashed tires if you parked there so you opted for parking in the street two houses down. this way if you chickened out before you made it to the door they’d never know.

you didn’t though. you couldn’t because the minute you stepped foot onto their doorstep nick threw open the door. no words were exchanged between the two of you. he instantly pulled you into a hug. you both needed it after the month and a half you just had. “i’m so glad you’re here” all you could do is hold him tighter in response. tears filled your eyes as chris made his way down the front steps to you both. he took his turn pulling you into a hug as well. when you broke apart he ran a soothing hand up and down your arm and let you walk to the living room.

the three of you sat on the couch together and you pulled your legs up into you. single tears streamed down your face every once and a while as you waited for someone to talk. “he doesn’t know you’re here,” nick started. “we didn’t want to tell him and freak him out.” “oh so he’s not allowed to be freaked out so i have to be. got it” you regretted it as soon as you got the sentence out. “sorry. fuck i’m sorry guys. i really just- i don’t know what i’m doing here.” you ran a hand through your hair nervously.

“it’s okay y/n/n we get it. we really just think you guys should talk.” chris said patting your knee. “yeah, we don’t want to pressure you but we think it will help both of you get some closure. so you sit here. we’re going to go out for a little bit, give you some space. if you decide you want to leave then please do so, but we won’t be upset if you’re here when we get back.” they gave you soft smiles as they made their way out of the house leaving you with your thoughts.

once you got the tears to stop, you knew that if you didn’t get off the couch now you would never make it to matt’s room. you were hesitant to knock. you didn’t hear anything in the otherside of the door. you were almost hoping he was asleep so you could go home and forget this ever happened.

as you began to raise your hand the door slowly opened. matt’s head was hung low looking at his phone. your lips parted slightly in shock. he quickly looked up when he noticed someone was standing there. “i- sorr- i um- i have to go.” you barely got out. as you tried turning so you could walk in the other room. “y/n?” matt was in shock and confused. you were the last person he expected to see. he just wanted to run over and hug you, but he kept his restraint. you rushed over to the couch looking for your keys. “i’m sorry i shouldn’t have come. chris and nick called me and i was worried about you but i really shouldn’t be here.” when you got nervous you just talked fast. your mouth couldn’t keep up with all the thoughts running through your head.

matt hadn’t moved from his doorway. he was frozen watching you pace the living room. when he finally came to his senses he spoke up to stop you. “wait please stop. please. i want to talk to you.” matt rushed over to you and grabbed your hand trying to get you to look at him. he fully expected you to pull away, but his confidence slightly boosted when you didn’t.

“please.” he repeated. “please come sit with me.” his words were soft and nervous. you nodded looking up at him. he walked you over to his room hand in hand. matt gestured for you to sit in his bed as he sat across from you. you decided to talk first. you just wanted to know he was okay. “um. your brothers asked me to come talk to you. they said you hadn’t left your room, and i know i shouldn’t be, because of the way we ended things, but i was really worried about you, matt. i don’t want you to be upset. i know i was really mean and i’m so sorry-” “no. please do not apologize.” he reached over to hold your hands. “i deserved everything you said to me. you were right. please look at me, sweetheart. i have been a mess because i feel so shitty about the way i treated you. and i couldn’t look at chris and nick because they lost you too. i feel so fucking bad.”

“i know you do, baby. i want to forgive you i really do, but i can’t go back to the way things were.” both of you had tears running down your faces. you just wanted to hold each other and forget everything. “i promise i can be better. i promise that i can do better. you deserve better then i’ve ever treated you and i will work my ass off everyday to prove that to you.” you moved closer to matt as you held his face and used the pads of your thumbs to wipe his tears. you leaned your forehead against his as you sat there debating what to say. “i know you will, matt. i believe you.” “do you really?” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he wanted nothing more then to kiss you but he couldn’t push your boundaries. “i do, baby. i’m so in love with you. i don’t know how i’ve spent this long without you.” you said slightly leaning in to matt.

both of you flicked your eyes between your lips and back to each others eyes. “i love you too.” matt said. “can i please kiss you?” he asked nervously. you guys had kissed millions of times before but something was different this time. you guys felt closer. “please, matt. you can do anything to me.” and with that your lips instantly connected. you two melted into eachother as the kiss deepened. he quickly swiped his tongue against your bottom lip asking for entrance which you accepted. “let me show you how sorry i am?” “please.”

he was chaos, he was revelry

bedroom eyes look like a remedy

matt gently pushed your back down onto his mattress. he took his lips off of yours as he pecked his way down your neck. your hands traveled down his chest as you pulled on the edge of his shirt. he took notice to this and hastily removed the piec rod fabric. he sent you pleading eyes as you nodded at him to take yours off as well. he took your bra off with it and trailed his hand down your arm to intertwine your fingers. your unoccupied hand went to matt’s hair as he placced soft kissed to your boobs. he’s movements become desperate as he attached his lips to my nipple as he gently sucked.

soft pants came out of your mouth as you pushed matt’s head lower towards where you were craving him most. he tilted his head up at you with a smug grin. “yeah baby, is that what you want?” he smirked at you as he shimmied your legs out of your pants and threw them to the corner of his room. he traveled down lower as he started to spread your legs letting him lay between them. he breath met your clit and he turned his head to bite the inside of your thigh.

“tell me what you need, sweetheart” “you, matt. i need you to touch me.” you rushed out. you needed to be close to him. you just wanted to feel him. matt pulled your underwear to the side and ran a finger through your slit. his cold hands tips sent goose bumps through your body. you swallowed thickly as he sent one quick lick to your core. he looked at you for a reaction only to get a nod of encouragement from you.

matt hummed while he wrapped one hand around your thigh spreading you farther apart for him. he slowly leaned into you dipping is tongue deeper into your wet folds. matt could feel the blood rushing to his cock due to your small pants and moans. the tight grip on his hair only encouraged him to keep going. you let out a small scream as he slowly began to enter his fingers into you. “fuck matt just like that.” you said as his middle and ring fingers curled up hitting that spongy spot. matt hummed into your cunt as he violently licked your clit.

neither of you had touched yourselves or anyone else in over a month. the pent up frustration made things go a lot faster then either of you expected. matt began rutting his hips softly into his mattress trying to relieve the tension he was feeling. you clenched around his fingers signally your close orgasm. matt’s head came up as his fingers still thrusted into you. “that feel good, baby. you gonna cum for me. come on, sweetheart. cum for me.” matt didn’t let up as your moans got louder if anything it made him to go in with more force. your orgasm came fast and hard. matt continued sucking as you came down from your high. you panted as matt slowly pulled his fingers out of you.

you started to sit up you you could return the favor only to be pushed back down as matt met you in a kiss. “no baby. tonight’s about you. i just want to make you feel good. i want to show you how sorry i am.” you looked at him with puppy dog eyes. “you do make me feel good matt. just let me return the favor.” you were quickly cut off by the sound of matt’s pants being pulled down. he shock his head at you to deny your request and your hand found the waistband of his boxers as you began to pull his cock out.

he was hard and somehow looked bigger then you remembered. matt’s head fell forward when you started stroking him. his arm that he was using to hold himself up almost giving out at the sensation. you ran his cock through your folds wetting him from you arousal and his precum. he took control as he slid into you, giving you a second to adjust, and then bottoming out at the sign of your approval.

you both let out signs as matt started thrusting into you. he ran his hand up and down your side and placed long kisses on your neck. certain to leave at least one hickey. matt was fully immersed in you. “matt please don’t stop. faster..fuck.” matt had every intention on taking his time with you tonight, to really show you how he feels, but he couldn’t turn down the opportunity. “fuck baby.” matt said speeding up. “faster? you want me to fuck you faster hm? tell me how good i’m making you feel baby.” matt kept up his pace as your hands found his back. your nails scratched down his skin leaving red marks in their trail. you threw your head back in pleasure when matt began rubbing your clit in figure eight motions. your noises only got louder but you were so fucked out that matt laughed when you couldn’t form a sentence. “you got it baby. you’re doing to good for me.” matt’s hips slammed into you surely leaving bruises. “tell me how good i’m making you feel. use your words.”

with one hand on your clit and the other brushing hair off of your forehead, matt soon approached his first orgasm of the night. you gasped and tried to catch your breath to say coherent words. “shit- i- god you’re doing so good, mmh. you feel so good. don’t stop. gonna cum.” you quickly reached your second orgasm. “yeah, you gonna cum,” matt taunted as his motions became sloppy. “good girl, cum with me, y/n.”

both of your orgasms built rapidly and didn’t disappoint. your head flew back in pleasure as matt lowly groaned and let out a small whimper. he rode out both of your orgasms and you reached out to out your head in this chest as you became overstimulated. matt slowly pulled out and fell down beside you as he leaned for his shirt to clean you up. “i love you.” you said as you rolled over to place your head in his chest. “i love you most.” he replied giving a kiss to the top of your head.

thinking it can change the

beat of my heart when he touches me

and counteract the chemistry

and undo the destiny

matt and you layed in a comfortable silence as you held each other. no one could ruin this moment for you two. you saw the comments over the months that you had ruined matt or that you’re a whore and you didn’t deserve him. no one knew the real truth. matt and you were made for each other. you didn’t believe in soulmates until matt came around.

you were still in matt’s bed when nick and chris got home that night. sound asleep you two basked in the presence of eachother. matt’s two brothers saw his bedroom door slightly ajar, they made their way over to see what was going on.

with no comment they smiled at each other noticing your states. they were happy to have their favorite couple back.

you ain’t gotta pray for me

me and my wild boy

and all this wild joy

[geralts-yenn]

Something like that - Part 2

Syverson (Sandcastle) x female reader (second-person pov)

summary: this is the second part of Something like that, a sequel to bonfire - Sy is finally taking you on a date. You spend the rest of the evening at the cabin with Sy

warnings: mention of previous relationship/breakup, masturbation, voyeurism, fingering, p-i-v sex, oral (f receiving), praise kink, tiny hint of breeding kink, edging, Sy in the shower

word count: 5k

A/N: I finally got around to finishing the second part of our first date with Sy. I got a lot of inspiration over the last few weeks, @martha-oi doing her best to make us all want to write for Sy 😁

Inspo board for this part can be found here!

I'd love to get some feedback. Please don't hesitate to reblog, comment, ask. Like all my fellow writers, I long for every bit of interaction with my readers. If you want to make my day, hit reblog and tell me what you think🥰

My masterlist

Part 1

Everything felt just perfect as you were snuggled into Sy's chest. You switched between talking, kissing and just listening to the crickets and each other's heart beats. From time to time, Sy pressed soft kisses on your hair.

It took you a while until you finally dared to ask what had been on your mind ever since the night at the bonfire.

“Sy?” You felt his hum vibrating in his chest. “Why did it take you so long to ask for a date? And why did you cancel it when you knew you had to leave?“

Sy took a deep breath and you knew he was searching for the right words. He pressed another kiss on your temple before he gave you his answer.

“Oh, darlin‘, how can I explain this to you without making a fool out of myself? I was scared. I was scared of fucking things up, of screwing up the one chance I finally had to get what I always wanted.“ 

You sat up straight so you could look into his eyes. “What you always wanted?”

Sy chuckled softly and rubbed his hands over your arms.  

“I was alone for a long time, there was no one that I could see myself with. And then you walked into my life and I just knew you were the one. But then I feared you wouldn’t want me. And when I was finally sure you'd give us a try, I had to leave. I panicked, thinking you’d send me a Dear John letter. And that would have destroyed me.“ He took another deep breath. 

“I guess that’s nothing to discuss on a first date, but dammit, we waited too long for anything else… I always wanted something like that.“ He gestured at you and your surroundings. “The whole package; a sweet woman, a house, a dog and a bunch of kids.” He paused, carefully studying your reaction before he went on: “And I'm still fucking scared I will mess this up!”

Your heart was thumping in your chest as you listened to his words. And when he stopped, you didn’t know what to say, so you just crushed your mouth against his and gave him a kiss that you hoped would convince him how much you wanted that, too. 

When you broke away, he glanced at you, the corners of his mouth slightly curled up. ”Does this mean I didn't scare you away with my speech?” he asked and you couldn't help but give him another peck.

"This means your speech helped you sneak deeper into my heart than ever before.” He let out a sigh and you both got back to kissing, your shoulders feeling so much lighter than before. 

***

The sun was slowly setting, and the sky changed into shades of orange and purple. You peered over the smooth surface of the lake, mirroring the warm colors. “Are we staying the night, or do we have to drive back?” 

“I would love to spend the night here, but I can also drive you home if you'd like to, sugar.” His face couldn't hide the hope he had that you wanted to stay, too. 

You got up and dropped the towel that was wrapped around your chest. “Great, I would have hated to drive home with wet hair!” Never losing eye contact with Sy, you slowly walked backwards to the end of the pier. His gaze couldn’t hide in the slightest how much he liked what he saw. Sy sucked on his lower lip and leaned forward, resting his hands on his thighs. You could have sworn you saw his cock twitch. Dipping your toe into the water, you checked the temperature and when you decided that you'd live, you turned and jumped headfirst into the lake. 

When you broke through the surface again, you heard Sy laughing and seconds later he cannonballed into the water, splashing it right into your face. 

It didn’t take long until you felt his erection pressing against your skin and you couldn’t stop thinking how you wanted him to use it, to split you open and take you. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Gosh, sugar, we’ll be freezing to death in here!” he uttered in between hitched breaths. Your head fell back in laughter. Could that big bear that always radiated heat really be cold? Wrapping your body around his, you kissed him on his neck.

“I’m gonna help you warm up, okay?” Your lip brushed over the stubble on his throat as you spoke. A deep growl was all you got as an answer before Sy pulled you closer to his chest. His tongue forced your lips open and he entered your mouth with vigor.

“You’re gonna get chilled to the bone, darlin’, let me get you out of here.” He was right, but still, you pouted because you just didn’t want to leave. This was the most beautiful and most romantic thing that had ever happened to you and you didn’t want it to be over yet.

Sy swam back to the pier with you in his arm. He climbed the ladder and held out his hand for you to take. You hadn’t even put a foot onto the wooden planks before he pulled you into his arms again Maybe it was his kiss or maybe it was the small gust of wind that brushed over your wet body, but you shuddered once more.

“Yeah, enough of that. Next time you’re trembling, it’s because I made you come on my tongue, darlin’.” Okay, perhaps you were ready to leave this romantic scene and see what else Sy had planned for you.

Sy dropped all your stuff on the couch and gave you a light slap on your bottom. “Bathroom is over there. Get into the shower, baby. I'll get a fire going, and then I’ll join you, okay?” You bit your lip in anticipation. The thought of Sy in the shower with you made you clench your thighs. 

Sy wrapped your towel around you and started to gather all the stuff the two of you had dropped on your way to the lounger. Even with his arms stuffed with clothes, he managed to open the door for you like the gentleman he was.

And when you stepped into the small cabin, you realized that you hadn’t seen the peak of cheesy romance yet today. The room in front of you was so cozy. Blankets were thrown over the old couch. The wooden floor was covered with a fluffy rug in front of a fireplace. There wasn’t a fire yet, but you knew Sy would change that soon. And the fairy lights that were glimmering on the walls made it look just so cozy. 

“Having fun in there, Sugar?” Sy chuckled, and you knew exactly how that smirk was spreading across his face, even if you couldn’t see him. The door opened and a pair of hands grabbed your hips. Sy parted your legs with his thigh, and one of his hands moved over your side until his fingers joined yours. 

“Don’t make me wait too long, Sy!” you told him before you turned to the bathroom. He was smart enough that he had switched on the small electric radiator, and you sighed as the warmth in the room settled around your body.

Gladly the water in the shower was hot too, and soon you leaned against the tiles, enjoying the water running down your back. The room was filled with steam. Your mind went back to the moment earlier today when Sy had covered you in his cum. Your fingers circled the bundle of nerves between your legs and you moaned.

“Dammit, baby, you’re so hot when you’re doing that.” His teeth sank into your neck, and he sucked on your skin, surely leaving a mark, but you couldn’t care less. His cock was hard as it pressed against your ass. 

His hand left you again when he turned you to face him. Your own moved to his chest, but Sy grabbed it and positioned it back to your pussy. He took a step back and shook his head. "Uh-uh, don't stop. I wanna watch you come over your pretty lil' fingers, sugar.” 

For a moment, you wanted to hide, feeling insecure and vulnerable with Sy's eyes on you. But as you saw him standing there, his throbbing cock standing tall, you shut your eyes and focused on your feelings. 

The sensation of your fingers, moving over your swollen pearl, applying some pressure, made you forget your surroundings quickly. Your other hand joined, gathering the slick before the water could wash it off, and you let two of your fingers slip into you. You were chasing your high, rubbing, pumping into you, desperate moans falling from your mouth.

“Just look at you, baby, doing so well. Making me so hard just from watching.” You opened your eyes again. Seeing Sy slowly fisting his cock as he watched you with hooded eyes, made you tumble over the edge, screaming his name. Your knees gave out as your pussy clenched around your fingers. Sy took you in his arms and pressed gentle kisses on your face. 

“You are the most gorgeous thing ever when you come, darlin’,“ he whispered in your ear. His cock was pressing against your hip as he cradled you in his arms and you just knew you needed to feel him once more. 

“Please fuck me, Sy!” you told him bluntly. And he didn’t need to hear it a second time. His arms wrapped around your thighs as he lifted you, and then he had you pinned against the wall, his cock slipping into your wet pussy effortlessly.

The moment it went in was always something that made you weak. But the ferocity with which Sy entered you now was so intense, it left you whimpering. Your fingers dug deep into the flesh of his back. By the way he took you, you knew there would be bruises along your spine and on your thighs tomorrow, but those would only be sweet memories of how Sy had made you see stars. 

And that he did, more than once. He fucked you relentlessly, slamming his hips into yours, accompanied by his deep grunts.

“Not gonna last much longer, sugar! You want me to come deep inside of you? Want me to fill your sweet little pussy?” Alone the thought of having his seed inside of you made your walls flutter.

“Fill me up Sy, please! I need to feel your cum dripping out of me.” There was another deep growl and he managed to get even deeper. You felt him grow bigger and shudder, and then he finally painted your pussy with his load. 

Sy carefully put you down on your feet again and pressed his forehead against yours. 

“You're making me act so hot-headed and greedy, darlin'. I promise, I will be more composed next time. Gonna take my sweet time with you.” You just couldn't hold back an incredulous laugh. 

“Are you seriously apologizing for what you did to me? For making me come multiple times? You're something else, Sy!” His cheeks were glowing red and you asked yourself if this was due to the hot water, to his efforts or if you were maybe right, thinking he looked almost shy.

While Sy was rummaging around in the kitchen, you made your way to the bedroom, deciding it was time to finally get dressed again. At least making yourself halfway decent by putting on some panties and a shirt. You hoped to get your hands on one of Sy's. But sadly, his stuff was apparently still on the couch in the living room.

You opened the wardrobe and there was a collection of comfy looking knitted sweaters and sweatpants. But those were probably Sy's cousin’s, so you took your backpack and fished for the silky camisole you had packed in the hopes of spending the night at Sy's.

With a sigh, you let yourself fall onto the bed. Your heart was so full of joy right now, it was overwhelming. Your eyes roamed through the room. It was small, the bed filling it out almost completely, but it was so comfy. There were more fairy lights draped over the headboard. You wondered how often Sy's cousin used this cabin to seduce his dates. And if Sy had done so before, too. 

This made you feel a little knot in your stomach. But you didn't dwell on it for long as you found what was lying on the bedside table.

“Sy, are you serious? A first date in a secluded cabin in the woods and then this?” As you circled the corner to meet Sy in the kitchen, you let the handcuffs dangle from your fingers.

Sy huffed in surprise, only to throw his head back in laughter the next moment.

“Guess that's my cousin's way of telling us to have fun.” You wrinkled your forehead, not sure how to take it. 

Sy wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in a hug.

“He's a good guy, a cop even. Trust me?” he asked. And of course, you did. To be truly honest, you could totally see you and Sy having fun with those. You shook your head and put the handcuffs on the table. 

Sy’s back shielded you from seeing what he was doing. You wrapped your arms around him, trying to get a glimpse over his shoulder but he shushed you out of the kitchen. 

“Why don’t you sit down in front of the fire, darlin’? I’ll be with you in a minute.” You considered the couch for a minute, but then you chose to sit down on the plushy fake fur rug. If we go for tacky romantic cliché, why not go all the way? And Sy didn’t lie when he said he’d be right there with you. Just after you settled on the floor, he was behind you, carrying two flutes of champagne in his big paw, while the other one held a bowl with strawberries. You helped him put all of it down on the antique trunk that served as a coffee table. 

It could have been perfect. If your mind had just been quiet. But sadly, your insecurities resurfaced exactly now. You really didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t help it. It just appeared in your head. And before you could bite your tongue, it had slipped out of your mouth.

Sy sat down next to you, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before he fed you a strawberry. The second you had swallowed, his mouth was back on yours, kissing you fiercely. “Sweet little thing you are,” he said, licking his lip.

“That’s so corny!” you laughed. “Who would have thought the big captain was such a hopeless romantic?” But to your surprise, Sy didn’t seem to be uncomfortable in any way. You’d rather say he appeared to be proud. And rightfully so. You were totally smitten with the man sitting at your side.

“So, how many girls have you already allured in this cabin with those cheesy little tricks, Sy?” What a way to kill the mood. Sy’s face changed immediately. His eyebrows were drawn together, a deep furrow formed on his forehead. He moved away a few inches. Damn, you really had to screw up this moment? You saw the disappointed expression on his face, and you knew you had to apologize. It was none of your business what Sy had done with other women before you two had started dating. You were already mumbling a few words, but Sy interrupted you by pressing his finger onto your lips. 

“Listen, baby! I shared the bed out here in this cabin only with two other people. With Walter and Evan.” Your face surely mirrored your confusion because Sy added: “My cousins!” He took one of your hands into his and started rubbing his thumb over your palm. 

“I already told you earlier. I haven’t been with someone for quite some time. If you like, I can tell you about it. Maybe it will help you realize and accept how special you are to me.” His eyes stared deep into yours, as you nodded for him to go on.

“I met Charlotte in high school. She was smart and cute, and I had the feeling that she liked me, not only as the captain of the football team, but me, my personality. She was my first love, my first everything. I thought about asking her to become my wife when I had to leave overseas for the first time. Thank god, I didn’t.”

Sy paused, catching a breath. “I had been out of the country for ten weeks when her letter arrived. I was so excited to hear from her. But then, after I had read the first sentences, I was broken. It was a Dear John letter. A classic. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. We can stay friends. You will always have a place in my heart… I swore never to let anyone that close to my heart again. And I stayed true to that. Until I met you.” 

Your mouth felt dry. There was so much you wanted to say, but somehow no word found its way out of your mouth. Sy lifted one of his hands and brushed his knuckles over your cheek. You parted your lips once more and managed to mouth a shaky “Why me?”

Sy chuckled, his eyes drifting off, as if he was focusing on something you couldn’t see. “That day on the beach. I can’t explain why. I was mesmerized by you. The way you laughed with Megan. When I watched you reading. I just knew that you are different. I couldn’t let the chance go to learn why I was so drawn to you. And then we talked. You were so fuckin’ cute when I saw that filthy book. I wanted to kiss you and tell you that I wanted to do all those things to you. But of course, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to scare you away. And when you jumped into my arms that evening, the only thing I could think of was that I wanted to never put you down again. You should have just stayed there forever, your legs wrapped around me and your head on my shoulder. On that day, I realized that you saw me. The real me! And you liked it. I couldn’t do anything other than open my heart for you.”

“You didn’t learn all of this from your high school sweetheart, did you?” You made sure to show him an honestly amused smile. Sy raised his eyebrow with a smirk.

You practically jumped into Sy’s lap and crashed your mouth onto his. That man did not only know how to plan the perfect date, he also knew exactly how to use his words to make you fall in love with him so hard.

You made out on that stupid rug, sharing deep kisses, grinding your bodies against each other. Sy found the perfect spots for his mouth, for his hands and for his hips to drive you crazy. After you had moaned his name another time into his mouth, a new thought crossed your mind. This time it wasn’t jealousy that formed it, only upright curiosity.

“All of this?” he asked, even if he knew perfectly well what you were talking about.  With an eye roll, you gave him what he wanted to hear:

“You fuck like a sex god, Sy! How did you learn that if you were alone all the time?” A smile played on the corner of your mouth as you took in how Sy puffed out his chest at your statement.

“Sugar, I said I let no one near my heart. I didn’t say I was living like the fucking pope!”

You chuckled and ran your hand over his chest. “I like those skills, you know?” 

“That’s my good girl!” he praised you. Another few soft licks along your entrance. “That’s it, doing so good for me, baby!” 

Sy laughed. “Thought so!” His hands brushed along your sides to tickle you and you squirmed in his lap. Another gentle touch along your rib cage made you fall onto your back. Your legs were opened wide before him and your shirt had slid up to expose the underside of your breasts.

And that changed the mood in the room another time. Sy watched you with hooded eyes as your chest was heaving.

“Darlin’ you know what makes me really mad right now? We’ve been together for hours and I still haven’t gotten my mouth on your beautiful sweet pussy.” He was really pouting at you, and you couldn’t hold back a laugh. But it got stuck in your throat when Sy pulled down your panties in one swift motion and sank his head between your thighs. His arm wrapped around your waist, he held you in place while he was running his tongue through your folds. By the time he was switching between circling your sweet spot and rolling it between his lips, your screams echoed from the walls. You wriggled in the arm that was still hooked around your frame, trying to move closer to him, to find enough friction, so you could finally find your release. But Sy was having none of it; he was holding you down, giving you just the amount to keep you on the edge.

“Please, Sy! I need to come!” you begged him, but he only hummed into your mound. He kept just lapping and sucking and licking and making you go insane. A deep growl came from him, and you saw him pressing his hips into the floor in search of some release for himself. “Let me come, Sy! Please!” you screamed, frantic by now by the way he was edging you, and Sy finally had mercy. He doubled his efforts with his tongue while he pushed two fingers into you. From then, it needed just some more pumps until you came undone at last. 

Your legs were shaking uncontrollably while the rest of your body felt boneless, like you were melting into the floor. 

Sy got on his knees beside you and lifted you up as if you weighed nothing. He carried you into the bedroom and carefully put you down onto the mattress. After pressing a chaste kiss onto your head, he slid his boxers down his thighs and lay down on the bed behind you.

"You up for another round or do you need some sleep, sugar?" he asked you and by the sound of it you knew it was an honest question. He wanted you to feel comfortable, whatever it was that you needed right now.

"You promised me some love making," you told him lazily, and you could feel Sy grin into the crook of your neck, his whiskers tickling your soft skin.

"So that's what you'll get," he whispered into your ear. With another firm grip, he turned you on your back and settled between your legs. And then made up to his promise and took his sweet time. 

There were tender kisses and gentle touches. There were fingers slowly trailing along your body. Lips that brushed over sensitive skin. And words, so many lovely words that he purred into your ears. 

"I want to feel your skin on mine. I want your breath in my hair. I want your hands on my body. Every day, darlin!"

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession.

"I want that, too, Sy. I want you!" While your tongues danced with each other, you felt his cock press against your mound, and you almost regretted that you had asked him to take it slowly. 

But when he entered you, when he slowly moved, there was no regret left. You devoured his kisses, you relished his weight that was pressing you down, you savored feeling him inside of you with every of his languid strokes. This time it wasn't chasing pleasure, it was feeling each other deeply. It was making love.

***

It took you a second to remember where you were when you woke up. Your next thought was that something felt wrong. That blissful warmth that had you enveloped the whole night was gone. You opened one eye and turned to see that the spot next to you was empty. Sadness pooled in your stomach. Your arm brushed over the sheets and it felt cold. Sy had left you alone in the bed for a while already.

Pouting, you got up. Your first guess was to find him in the bathroom. To your further disappointment, the shower showed that it had been used, but the adonis-like body was nowhere to be seen. 

With a sigh, you chose to go through your bathroom routine before you carried on with your search.

And while you were brushing your teeth you took in something that you hadn't noticed until now. There was a scent of fresh baked bread lingering in the air.

Curious, you didn't bother getting dressed. You opened the door to the main room and there he was. Just in his boxers he was standing at the counter, dipping his hips to a song he was quietly humming. 

The scent of freshly baked goods was a lot stronger here. On your tiptoes you carefully approached him. You didn't want to interrupt the scene. Wanted to get as much of that picture as possible. Your man, singing in the kitchen, making you breakfast. 

Your arms were already stretched out to wrap around him when you heard his mirthful voice:

"Mornin' sugar!" He turned and pressed a kiss on your forehead. You hummed as you leaned into his touch. 

As he retreated you took in your surroundings. It wasn’t chaotic, but you could tell that Sy had been quite busy in the kitchen. There were eggshells and remains of flour on the counter, a bowl with remnants of dough was standing in the sink. You bent forward to take a glimpse into the oven. There was a whole tray full of bread rolls, already showing a golden crust.

“You didn’t get up to make homemade rolls, Sy?” you asked, even if it was obvious that he, in fact, had done exactly that. Sy pulled you back into his arms with a proud smile on his face.

“Forgot to bring bread and I was hungry. And I thought you might need some nutrients, too, after last night.” He wouldn’t ever stop being a smug bastard, and you loved him for it. Ah, no, you couldn’t say you love him, not that soon, right? Better not think about it anymore, so you decided to get back to kissing him.

Those kisses smoothly transformed into a making out session and it didn’t take long until Sy had his hands on your rear and lifted you up to sit on the counter. He glanced over to the timer of the oven and smiled. “We got another fifteen minutes. Any idea how to fill that time?” 

Your hands trailed down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs, your fingers slipping under it, so you could cup his glorious rear.

“I might have an idea of what you could fill,” you cooed and Sy answered with a snort. He pressed his groin to your center, and you could feel that he was on board with your suggestion. Four hands were working to pull down his underwear and the next moment he lined up his swollen head at your already dripping entrance. 

The alarm of the timer went off exactly as you left the shower and Sy went for the kitchen, wrapped in a towel, not without a small slap on your butt. After you got dressed you found him on the deck. He had the bread rolls, jam, peanut butter and the strawberries that you had left behind yesterday, displayed on the table. There was a steaming mug of coffee waiting for you. 

Without hesitation, he plunged all the way into you and started to pound hard. Your pussy was sore by now, but you couldn’t care less. Gasping, you took him, as deep as he could reach. The tip of his cock brushed over your most sensitive spot with every thrust, and he had you moaning and crying out his name in no time.

You came around his cock, clenching him with your tightening walls, bringing him over the edge with you. Still connected, Sy lifted you up and carried you to the shower. He shielded you from the water with his broad back until it was warm enough. Then he put you down on your feet again and started to lather your whole body.

Sy leaned against a post and looked out over the lake, another mug of coffee in his hand. You could get used to this sight in the morning. Somehow seeing Sy like this was comforting. When he noticed you, he held out his arm and you leaned into his embrace, snuggling into his still bare chest. He pressed a kiss into your hair and mumbled: “Let’s get you something to eat, sugar.” 

You spent most of the morning sitting by the lake, talking and kissing. Sy fed you warm bread rolls and more strawberries. By the time you had finished a second cup of coffee, you both knew it was time to pack your stuff and get home. You were meant to meet Megan tonight and Sy had promised his mom to show up for dinner. 

A sigh escaped you when you stepped out of the cabin a last time and Sy locked the door. You both stared over the water once more, Sy’s arms wrapped around you tightly. “Did you enjoy this, baby?” he asked. You turned to look at him and cupped his cheek, your hand looking so small on his beautiful face.

“This was the best first date I ever had, Sy.” you told him. Sy hummed, content with your answer. “That’s good, darlin’. Because it will be the last first date you’ve ever been on.”

[shiorimakibawrites]

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Greta Punch (Unsplash) / Stephanie Harvey (Unsplash)

A Tale of Two Men (Part 1 of Cozy Corners)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 6,595 Summary: One week after you open your cafe, you meet two handsome men - defense attorney Matt Murdock and the vigilante Daredevil. Warning(s): Canon-typical violence, description of anxiety and panic attacks, referenced oral sex (f receiving), referenced p in v sex, referenced masturbation, dirty thoughts, female gaze Cozy Corners Masterlist Shiori's Masterlist A03 link Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer , @danzer8705 Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

A Tale of Two Men

You couldn’t stop smiling. Owning your own cafe had been the dream of you and your best friend Dora Morales since high school. And now, after years of hard work, it had finally happened. One week ago, you had opened your doors for the first time. You looked around. You and Dora had done everything you could, within the limitations of your lease and budget, to make Cozy Corners to live up to its name. Warm, comfortable, and inviting.

You were especially pleased with the little nook, tucked away from the main bustle of the cafe where people could read and study in relative quiet. You had found some nice chairs in a secondhand store, their brown leather the color of chocolate and butter soft. The little library of reference books and fiction was small but you hoped that over time it would grow. Yes, people were more likely to use the internet to look things up these days but you liked having analog back-ups. Just in case something got broken. Or the city was invaded by aliens. Again.

You found having back-up plans helped calm your nerves, made the anxiety gremlin in your head less loud. You were a big fan of keeping that gremlin quiet. You didn’t like it when the gremlin got loud. It was mean.

Hearing the bell on the front door chime, you looked up to greet your new customer. And immediately felt your stomach fill with butterflies. Because one of the most beautiful men you had ever laid eyes on had just walked into your cafe. Dark brown – no, dark auburn, you could see the glint of red in the sunlight – hair that looked like it would be very enjoyable to run your fingers through, excellent bone structure, and a mouth practically begging to be kissed. Round sunglasses with dark red lenses hide his eyes from view. Which was unfortunate. Especially if they were just as pretty as the rest of him.

The brown suit he worn, by contrast, did very little to disguise how well-built he was. Which was very, if the strain on buttons of his dress shirt was any indication. He moved an enviable grace as he walked toward the counter, his long white cane sweeping in front of him.

“Good morning, sir,” you said. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning,” he replied. His voice was pretty too, nice and deep. The kind you could easily imagine whispering everything from sweet nothings to dirty promises in your ear. The thought made your cheeks warm and your heart beat at little faster.

His lips twitched into something like a smirk before he asked, “Do you have a menu in braille?”

You sighed, then said, “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” he repeated, tilting his head to one side.

“I have something in braille. The printing service claims that it’s my menu.”

“I take it that you disagree?”

“I don’t sell a cinematic rainbow muffler.”

“What?”

The sheer disbelief and confusion put into that single ‘what’ had you biting your lip to not laugh. You didn’t want him to think you were joking or making fun of him.

“Cinematic rainbow muffler,” you repeated. “Not something we sell here at Cozy Corners.”

His lips twitched. “I don’t think anyone does. What was it supposed to be?”

“Cinnamon raisin muffin.”

His brow furrowed. “That . . . doesn’t even have the same amount of letters. How did they manage get that?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” you said, shaking your head. “The whole thing is like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you said, pulling out the copy you had left under the counter in case you needed a laugh. Which was about the only thing it was good for. You sat it down in front of him. “It’s at your twelve o’clock if you want to see for yourself.”

Mr. Handsome took you up on that offer. While he read – or rather attempted to read since you knew sections were completely unintelligible – you idly wondered if the dark facial hair dusting his face was the start of a beard or if he just didn’t feel like shaving this morning . . . you had the feeling he would look good either way . . .

Case in point, all that look of utter befuddlement like he didn’t whether to laugh or to be irritated by what he was reading did was make him look adorable. You needed to be careful. This guy was dangerously pretty.

“What is 78554.051?” He asked, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“What?”

“It’s listed as one of the drinks. I think. I assume you don’t serve dribbles.”

“No, sir,” you said, thinking. “My best guess is that someone put the number sign where it didn’t belong.”

Mr. Handsome hummed thoughtfully, re-running his fingers over one section of the menu of nonsense. “Green tea.”

“Now that I do have,” you said. “Speaking of which, would you like to order a drink?”

“I don’t know . . . ,” he said with a teasing grin. “Drinking a coffin sounds dangerous.”

“It does,” you agreed, ignoring the continued presence of the butterflies to go along with the banter. “Does coffee sound better?”

“Infinitely.”

You gave him a quick rundown of the coffee options. He ordered a red eye for himself, which always sounded like a lot of caffeine to you but you didn’t know this man’s life. While he didn’t look tired, maybe he had been working a lot of hours lately and needed the extra oomph. Apparently he didn’t think his coworkers needed extra caffeine as they got a cappuccino and a dirty chai.

“What’s the name?” you asked. Mr. Handsome might be the only customer right now but that could change any minute. It was only a little after nine. Plenty of people might still be heading toward school or work, people who might decide to grab a coffee (and maybe some food) on their way.

“Matt.”

“Matt,” you repeated, both to make sure that you had heard him correctly and because you wanted to say it. If for no other reason so you wouldn’t accidentally call him Mr. Handsome outloud. He nodded in confirmation. “Just coffee this morning?”

He made another thoughtful hum. “I probably shouldn’t have just coffee for breakfast. What’s on offer?”

“We have bagels, muffins, croissants, turnovers, doughnuts, frittatas, and breakfast sandwiches.”

“Hmmm, those all sound great,” he said.

“Take your time,” you said, “Think about it while I make your drinks?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You turned to start making the coffee. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him flinch a little when the machine started grinding the beans. Which you couldn’t really blame him for. It wasn’t a nice sound. Easily one of your least favorite. But Dora, who was a coffee aficionado, might actually kill you if you even thought about using anything other than freshly ground coffee for espresso.

She had explained why it mattered. And demonstrated how changing how fine the grind was effected the drink. But that didn’t make the noise any less unpleasant. Which was probably why she hadn’t been able to talk you into freshly grinding your coffee at home. Not yet anyway. You were getting worn down on the issue. Agreeing would at least mean she would stop giving you that look of actual pain everytime she saw your can of already-ground coffee.

Pulling the shot part of the espresso was a lot more pleasant on the ears. With the added bonus of putting out that nice fresh coffee smell. You poured the shot into the waiting to-go cup of the house brew. You knew some places poured the hot coffee into the espresso but Dora thought that method disturbed the crèma too much.

You were pouring in the frothed milk with the chai concentrate into the double-shot of espresso for his coworkers’ dirty chai when Matt spoke again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did but you can ask another one,” you said, feeling a little bold from his earlier friendliness, as you put the finished drink into the carrier alongside it’s companions.

He chuckled. “Left myself wide open for that one . . . Are you the owner?”

“Co-owner with my best friend, Dora,” you answered, tapping the used grounds into the knock box.

“Dora and who?” Matt asked with a charming smile. You felt your heart sped up. Something about smiling transformed his already handsome face into something breathtakingly beautiful. You had no resistant to something like that. You told him your name.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“And that was a line,” you said. One that you had heard numerous times. Through never from someone this good looking.

“It can be,” he acknowledged before subtly shifting his posture. He hadn’t been slouching before but there had been a relaxed air to the way he carried himself. Now he was standing there, straight-backed and shoulders square, his hands resting on the white cane held upright between his feet like it was some medieval courtiers’ staff of office. He had a presence. One that you suddenly realized had been there all along. It was just front and center now.

When he spoke again, there had also been a subtle shift to his voice. Easy self-assurance had been replaced with rock-solid confidence and conviction. Not thundering like an angry priest, just the calm, even voice of someone who knows they are correct, that the facts were on their side.

“Does that phrase being used as a pick-up line mean that a name cannot be pretty?”

“No,” you said. “A name can still be pretty.”

“Generally speaking, is your name one of the pretty ones?”

“Yes?” you said slowly. Why did you feel like you had just walked into a trap? Maybe it was that little edge of sharpness to his smile? . . . .

“Well, if names can be pretty and your name is one of those pretty names, then you have a pretty name.”

“I suppose,” you conceded. It was hard to argue with that logic. Especially when you didn’t actually want to argue that your name was ugly. You liked your name. And it was nice to hear something about you called pretty. Even if it was just your name.

“A pretty name for a beautiful girl.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks. That smile should be illegal. As for the words . . . he probably didn’t mean them. He was obviously something of a flirt. Regardless . . . it was still nice to hear. Still made your heart flutter.

“And that was absolutely a line,” you said, fidgeting with the ties on your apron. “Flattery is not going get you a free muffin.”

“It’s not flattery if it is true,” he said. Which did nothing to lessen the warmth in your face. “And since muffins are off the table, what about the doughnuts? Or the turnovers?”

You laughed. “Sorry. As much as I would like to give out free coffee and food, unfortunately there are all these places that expect me to pay them with money.”

“Instead of an excellent pie, like a sensible person?”

“Exactly,” you said, once again finding yourself drawn into the banter in spite of your nerves. You knew one thing for certain about Matt – he was definitely charming.

He nodded solemnly, like this was a serious conversation. “I’ve encountered the same problem with my small business.”

“You did?” you said. Then, feeling genuinely curious, you asked him, “What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer who wants to get paid in pie?” you said, feeling a little skeptical. Didn’t lawyers usually work in big offices that paid them big money? Granted your experience with lawyers was largely limited to baby-faced ones who were grabbing coffee for the office or law students who looked like they had forgotten what sleep was . . .

“I like pie,” he said mildly. “But, as you said, since so many people want money instead of pie, my partner insists that’s what we charge for our services.”

“That’s a shame,” you said.

“It is,” Matt agreed solemnly. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “What to know a secret? If you ever need to bribe Foggy, try bagels. He can resist pie but never a good bagel.”

“Duly noted,” you said. “I assume Foggy is your partner?”

“Yep,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law.”

“Nelson?” you repeated. “Any relation to Nelson’s Meats?”

You expected the answer to be no. This was New York City, after all, not a small town. But, to your surprise, Matt nodded and said, “Yes, it’s his family’s butcher shop. How do you know Nelson’s?”

“We buy the meat for the cafe from them,” you explained as you placed the to-go carrier by the cash register. “Did you ever reach a verdict on breakfast?”

He chuckled. “Jury is still out, I’m afraid. It all smells so good. Can you give me a recommendation?”

Your heart gave another excited flutter at the compliment as you thought about it. Then, with a little hesitation, said, “Maybe bagels? That way, if I need to bribe your partner, he knows what he’s getting out of the deal?”

“Good idea,” Matt said with a smile. “What favors do you have?”

After being given his options, he opted for a plain for himself and an everything for Foggy. After some further consideration an apple turnover for Karen, the third person at his office. He thought the sweetness of the turnover would compliment the spices of her dirty chai better than a bagel.

Soon the rest of his order was bagged up and paid for. Before he left, he tapped the menu of nonsense with his finger. “Can I have a copy of this? Otherwise I’m pretty sure Foggy will think I’m making it up.”

“Go ahead,” you said. “I’ve got other copies.”

He smiled, then tucked the menu into the bag with the food. He feed his arm through the handles of the bag, then picked up the drinks carrier. Considering his left hand was occupied with his cane . . .

“Would you like me to open the door for you?”

“Please.”

On the downside, Cozy Corners wasn’t very big so that particular journey didn’t take very long. But on the upside, you got to watch him walk down the street, discovering that he had a perfect ass. Because of course he did. You sighed. Why was everything about this man so attractive . . .

“I saw that.”

You jumped with a small shriek and whirled around. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was Dora. How long had she been standing there?

“Saw what?” you demanded, walking back over to the counter.

“So many things,” she said with a knowing grin. “You flirting with Mr. Matthew Murdock, Esquire? Undressing him with your eyes? Checking out his ass? I saw it all.”

Warmth flooded your face. “I wasn’t undressing him with my eyes!”

“Yes, you were,” Dora said with the utter confidence of someone who had known you since you were ten and therefore knew all of your tells.

“Maybe I was,” you muttered as you tidied up the work station. It needed to be done but also gave you an excuse not to see that knowing grin. Which you knew, without even looking, had just gotten bigger.

“And now you are thinking about how loudly he could make you scream.”

“Dora!” You exclaimed, your head whipping around to make sure the cafe was still as empty as it was the last time you looked. It was. “Is this really the time for that? We’re at work!”

“That wasn’t a denial,” she pointed out in a sing-song voice. “I’m betting on very loud.”

“What makes you say that?” you asked, suspicion in your voice. “Did you sleep with him?”

The very thought sparked a little flame of jealousy inside you. Which you hated. You didn’t want feel jealous of your best friend . . .

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But I know someone who did. She said Murdock loves eating pussy. That he fucked her better with his tongue than any man ever had with their dick.”

“Dora!” You whined. Because now you were thinking about it. Now you were trying to imagine that handsome face buried between your thighs. It was an appealing image. Very appealing. But one you would rather not have when you could do nothing to quench the heat growing between your legs. “Why are you telling me this?!”

“You’ve been under way too much stress lately. Orgasms are wonderful stress relief.”

“Matt Murdock isn’t a requirement for me to have an orgasm,” you said mulishly. You had hands. And a vibrator. Both had served you well in that department. Often better than men had.

“Perhaps not,” she said, nodding in acknowledgment before flashing you a wicked smile. “But that’s who you are going to imagine fucking you senseless while you flick the bean, isn’t it?”

You were spared from having to answer that question by the arrival of new customers.

&&&

You managed to avoid any further conversation about Matt Murdock and what he could do with his tongue. Or other body parts. You put that down to two things. First, there had been a steady stream of customers to keep you both busy. Most had been simply curious about the new business in the neighborhood or tourists needing a quick break. The latter made you a little nostalgic, remembering your first days in the city and how overwhelmed you had felt. But some of the customers were repeats from earlier visits. Something that you hoped would continue.

Second, while you were still working on hiring, you did have some staff. Staff that had come in around lunch time and were there until final clean-up. It was one thing for Dora to speak so frankly about your sex life (or the lack thereof) when it was just the two of you but in front of others? Others who were your employees? Who likely would be very uncomfortable with that conversation? That was an entirely different kettle of fish. Not one that Dora or you had any desire to partake in.

By the time you were locking up the cafe and setting the alarm, Dora had seemingly forgotten all about Matt Murdock and how you had – allegedly – been undressing him with your eyes. It might only be temporary reprieve. Assuming he didn’t hate the coffee and food, Matt would be back. Despite the certainty of teasing from your best friend, you hoped that he came back.

Not because you thought had any chance with him. You weren’t delusional. Men that good-looking didn’t go for people like you . . . but if he was a regular, you could at least look at him. You’d get to talk to him. Though seeing him with girlfriends was going to suck . . .

“Are you sure that you don’t want me and Steve to walk you home?” Dora asked, looking worried.

“Yes,” you said, looking over at your best friend and her steady boyfriend. He had come to pick her up as usual. “I’m in the opposite direction of you guys.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve said. You knew that he didn’t. He made similar offers since he and Dora had started dating. And never complained or acted annoyed when you accepted the offer. But your apartment was much closer to Cozy Corners than their place, which weren’t even in the Kitchen. The only time you had accepted the offer since the cafe opened was the day before and only because you were dropping off the deposit at the bank. Then, carrying your opening week’s worth of cash, you felt like you had needed some extra security. Steve was a very sweet guy but he was also a tall man with large muscles. Not exactly the easy target that most criminals are looking for.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “It’s not that late and my place isn’t far.”

“Okay,” Dora said. “If you are sure?”

“I am.”

Mollified by your conviction, Steve and Dora left. You watched them go around the corner before heading off yourself. You walked swiftly. Because rain had been predicted tonight and it was starting to get chilly at night. It wasn’t quite cold yet but brisk enough that you needed a jacket and didn’t fancy getting soaked. You couldn’t afford to get sick right now. Your business was too new . . . and Lady Who Sneezes A Lot wasn’t exactly the second impression you wanted to give Matt.

You might have very few hopes of attracting his interest but that didn’t mean you wanted to completely tank what little chance you had . . . You shook your head. You needed to stop the daydreaming. This wasn’t the time for it. Daredevil was back from wherever he had disappeared to but the vigilante only made things safer, not safe . . .

There was no warning. You were walking, almost home. Then you were grabbed from behind. You screamed as you were dragged toward the gap between two buildings. You dropped the sack holding your dinner and tried to struggle, to resist, but your attacker was too strong for you. You were pulled into the shadows and slammed into the side of a building. It knocked the wind of you.

Heart pounding, you desperately tried to suck in air. To get your breath back. You needed to scream again. Scream in the Kitchen and the Devil came. That was the story. That was the hope. But was one scream enough? You didn’t know. So you had to scream. Scream and pray all those stories were true . . .

You started to scream . . . then agony exploded on the left side of your face, transforming that scream into a cry of pain. Everything from your cheek down to your jaw immediately began to throb. It hurt. Worse than the time your sister Alex had accidentally given you a black eye with a softball. The bruising grip on your shoulder that kept you pinned against the wall barely even registered.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” the man ordered in a low hiss. “Make another sound and I’ll slit your throat.”

Tears were blurring your vision but you could see the knife he was brandishing. It wasn’t a small pocket knife. It was a chef’s knife. Like the one you had at home and at the cafe. And it was stained with something. You bit down hard on your bottom lip to stop a terrified whimper. It was too dark for you to tell with what but you feared that it was blood.

Apparently satisfied that you were too frightened to be anything but compliant, the man released your shoulder.

“Purse,” the man demanded. “Watch. Jewelry.”

Trembling, you removed your crossbody bag and held it out. It was taken and slung onto his shoulder. You ignore the watch directive since you weren’t wearing one. It was when you tried to remove your jewelry that things went wrong. The only piece of jewelry that you were wearing, a necklace, had a very delicate chain with a tiny clasp. Your hands were shaking too much for you to get a good grip on the lobster clasp, let alone open it and slip out the ring. The chain wasn’t big enough to pull the whole necklace over your head. Every time, the clasp slipped out of your fingers, your panic grew. Which only made the trembling worse.

It didn’t take long for the mugger to lose patience. His hand darted out and grabbed the necklace. He yanked hard, snapping the chain. More tears filled your eyes. It was bad enough that he was stealing your favorite necklace. Did he have to break it too? Then, to your horror, he raised the knife. You screamed, instinctively throwing up your arms to try to protect yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut, bracing yourself for the pain that you knew was coming.

Except it never came.

What came was a growl, low and furious. It was accompanied by the sound of something flying through the air. You heard a pained yelp and something metal clattering to the ground. You cautiously opened your eyes just in time to see someone put himself between you and the mugger.

Someone dressed entirely in black, save for the thick white ropes tied around his forearms and hands. Someone wearing a mask. Daredevil, you realized with a dizzying sense of relief. It might not be the more distinctive red outfit and its horned helmet but you were sure it was him . . . the stories were true. Scream in Hell’s Kitchen and the Devil will come to save you.

“You made a big mistake,” Daredevil snarled at the mugger, each word dripping with fury and utter contempt. “By not fleeing when you had the chance.”

Then he threw himself at the man.

Your legs turned to liquid. You fell back against the wall and slide down. You didn’t care the street was getting your pants dirty. You had to sit. While your legs were uninterested in supporting your weight, you could pull them up and wrap your arms around them. So you did. It was almost like a hug and you could use one right now.

You couldn’t stop shaking. The sound of breaking bones, meaty thwacks, and a man’s screams were oddly distant. Like you were listening to something through a well instead something happening just a few feet away. Scent, however, was viscerally and intensely present. Acrid car exhaust, rotting garbage, coopery blood, sweet peaches, and sour sweat filled your nose. You gagged, then tried to breathe through your mouth to lessen the nauseating combination. But you couldn’t get your throat to work . . . you couldn’t get enough air . . . your vision darkened . . . . you couldn’t breathe . . .

You weren’t sure which penetrated past the panic first – the hands massaging your shoulders or the deep voice speaking. But once it did, you were suddenly aware of both. You almost couldn’t believe your own eyes and ears. Was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really kneeling in front of your huddled body? Were those gloved hands gently gripped your shoulders, really the same ones that had just literally beaten a man bloody?

“You’re safe, it’s okay . . .”

The soft, quiet voice was completely at odds with his grim reputation. It also sounded a little familiar but you were too exhausted to try remembering where you had heard it. It had been a long day and panic attacks always took a lot out of you.

You weren’t so tired that you missed that the Devil was a good-looking man. And not just in the face. Those grainy surveillance photos in the newspaper hadn’t conveyed just how tight his clothing was. Which was very tight. His shirt, for example, was practically painted on. You could see his muscles. His many, many muscles. He had clearly hit the muscle store during a clearance sale . . .

The thought made you giggle. It sounded more like a wheeze and more than a little hysterical but still a giggle. But you needed a laugh. You were alive. You had been sure that you were about to die. That you were going to be stabbed to death in a robbery gone bad . . . you started to tremble again, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the weather . . . you could have died . . . your bottom lip quivered . . .

Hands squeezed your shoulders, “Hey, hey, look at me.”

That didn’t sound too hard. Only half of his face was visible but what you could see was mighty fine.

A deep chuckle. “Thanks for the compliment.”

‘Note to self – abject terror followed by panic attack completely dissolves your brain-to-mouth filter. Shut up before you ask if it is actually possible to bounce a quarter off of his abs.’

Another deep chuckle alerted you that you might have also said that outloud. A theory confirmed by his statement, “I’ve never tried. Can you do something for me?”

Warmth filled your cheeks as you nodded. He smiled at you. It was a nice smile. “Follow my lead? Deep breathe in . . .”

You mimicked the inhale, the short hold, then slow release out.

“Good! Now again . . .”

It seemed like forever but eventually you felt calm. Or at least not like you were about to have another panic attack. That was good. Panicking was exhausting. Daredevil seemed to agree with your self-assessment as he had stopped instructing you to take deep breathes. After one more reassuring squeeze, his hands slid off of your shoulders. He sat back on his heels.

“Feeling better now?” he asked, his voice returning to what you assumed was his Daredevil speaking voice – low, deep, with a growling rasp. It was possible he sounded like this all the time. It wasn’t like you had ever meet him outside the mask. Well, as far you knew. You supposed that you could have but how would you know . . .

“Yes,” you said, when you remembered that you had been asked a question. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not from a certain point of view. You were feeling better now that you were no longer teetering on the edge of a second panic attack in a short space of time. You knew this calm, almost numb, feeling was fragile. It would shatter instantly if pressed too hard. But that was the best you could hope for right now. Feeling any better than this would require things that weren’t here – like your most comfortable clothes and your pets – along with time.

Daredevil frowned, tilting his head slightly to one side. It was hard to interpret the expression on his face since you couldn’t see most of it. But it seemed like he was staring at you (through how he saw anything through that mask was a mystery) as if you were a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Or maybe he was simply skeptical. That was possible. You had seen how you looked after panic attacks. In his shoes, you wouldn’t believe you about being fine either.

“I’m as fine as I’m going to get tonight,” you amended.

That answer, at least, was deemed plausible to him. He nodded, then pulled something about the little pouch attached to his belt. A cellphone. Who was he calling? Since you had no energy for guessing games, you simply asked.

“The police,” he said.

Well that was your cue to get out of here. You couldn’t think of something you would rather deal with less right now. Your usual post-panic attack headache was already growing – no need to kick it into migraine territory with sirens and flashing lights. You shifted onto your knees so you could get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Daredevil asked.

“Going home.”

“Home? Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital?”

Amazing, he had found something worse than the police. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t wanna.”

His lips twitched. “You don’t wanna?”

“What are you, a parrot?” you demanded, feeling your temper flare. If you had been less tired or not in pain, that question would have playful. But you were tired and hurting so that question was grouchy. So was the rest of your statement. “Yes, I don’t wanna. No, I don’t care that is whinny. I’ve had a shitty night! I’ll whine if I want to!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, spitfire. No hospital.”

As the anger drained, you felt a swell of guilt for yelling at him after he just saved your life. This was why you did your best to avoid people when your social batteries were running too low to manage basic human interaction. It seemed like you always ended up biting someone’s head off for no good reason.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shifting back onto your bottom. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against your knees. You didn’t care that your pants were dirty. You needed to hide. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just too tired to be peopling right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I understand.”

You cracked up an eye and turned your face to peer at him with that one eye. Again, it was almost impossible to get a read on his expression but he didn’t seem bothered. And vigilante like him probably did know a thing or too about having a temper. Suddenly feeling curious, you asked, “How good does it feel to punch crime in the face?”

A wolfish smirk spread across his face before he answered, “Sometimes very good. Why?”

You shrugged, “Don’t know. Maybe I’m looking for a career change. Punching bad guys sounds more fun than getting punched by bad guys.”

You got the impression he was giving you a very stern look from behind that mask. That mouth pressed together in a thin line was all disapproval. “How about you leave the punching bad guys to me and I’ll leave the baking to you?”

“How did you know I’m a baker?” you asked. Then felt a little stupid for asking. You were still wearing your chef’s jacket and an apron. It was pretty obvious that you worked with food . . .

“You smell like flour, yeast, butter, sugar, and spices which all says baker to me,” he said. “Through you also smell like peaches. The fruit, not the flowers.”

You blinked. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting. You also hadn’t realized that the scent of your peach beauty products were that strong. They smelled pretty light to you. But before you could think of a response to that, Daredevil rose to his feet. Which gave you a nice look at his legs which like his torso and arms was muscles for days barely contained by tight clothes. The black trousers weren’t quite as painted on as the shirt but they were snug enough. The naughtier parts of your mind wondered what it would be like to ride him, feeling those powerful thighs under you as he thrust up . . .

“Spitfire?”

Embarrassed warmth flood your face. While you were distracted, Daredevil had held out his hands and obviously asked if you wanted help standing. More than once if that amused smirk was any indication. You put your hands into his before you could embarrass yourself any further. A goal immediately challenged by watching the muscles in his arms flex as he helped pull you up onto your feet without a hint of strain. Because damn if that wasn’t hot . . .

Thankfully this time you managed not to become so distracted by the sexy vigilante that you just stood like there drooling like an idiot. You slide your hands out of his and then, to prevent yourself from staring at all those muscles (again), started looking for your crossbody bag. You hoped that the mugger had dropped it during the fight with Daredevil. Because as much as you wanted and needed your things back, you also would rather not get any closer to that man than you had to.

It didn’t matter that mugger was (probably) unconscious and (very probably) too beaten up to be a threat anymore. Not to anxiety brain. Anxiety brain was seldom appeased by such frivolities as fact and logic. So when you spied the large, still shape on the ground, your heart started racing again.

“Don’t worry about him.”

You looked over at Daredevil. He wasn’t even looking in the same direction that you were but still seemed to know what you were looking at. Almost like he read your mind . . . could he read your minds? God, you hoped not . . .

“I promise he’s not going anywhere soon,” Daredevil continued, his earlier rage coloring his voice a little. Part of you wanted to know what the mugger had done to make him so angry but most of you decided that you were better off not knowing. Your brain did not need help coming up with nightmares.

Feeling reassured by Daredevil’s confidence (and the knowledge that he was still between you and the mugger), you looked for your bag again . . . there it was. It was closer than you expected. You started to move closer but your foot encountered something. Something metal judging by the sound against the concrete. You looked, hoping it wasn’t the knife.

It wasn’t . . . too small . . . you knelt down and discovered your necklace. You picked it up, glad that you wouldn’t have to try to find something so small in such poor lighting or run the risk of it being gone by morning. Which it probably would have been. Aside from the broken chain, you hoped the rest of it was undamaged. You ran your thumb across the surface . . . it didn’t feel like any of stones had gotten chipped or cracked . . . the engraving could still be read . . .

“What are you doing?”

You jumped a little at the voice before remembering Daredevil. You were surprised he was still here. Weren’t there other damsels in distress he needed to be rescuing?

“Not at the moment.”

Either you were still saying things outloud without realizing it or Daredevil could absolutely read minds. You decided to believe the former because the latter was too mortifying to contemplate.

“Checking my favorite necklace,” you said as you darted forward and grabbed your bag. “Doesn’t feel like anything but the chain got broken.”

He nodded. “Ice those bruises when you get home – ten minutes on, twenty off. And try to keep your head elevated. After two days, you can use a heat compress.”

“Ice and prop up tonight, heat in a couple days,” you repeated. At his confirming nod, you asked, “Are you a doctor or something?”

“Just familiar with bruises” he said. “Trust me, spitfire, the bad guys often hit back when you’re punching them.”

You nodded, then realized that any further delay was just stalling. But as much as part of you wanted to keep talking – how often did you get a chance to talk to one of the city’s heroes? – the rest of you was still tired, still feeling jittery-numb from the panic attacks, and still hurting. And you had work tomorrow. It was time to call it a night.

“I guess this is good night,” you said, taking one last look at the vigilante. Odds were, the only time you’d see him again was in the newspaper.

“Good night, spitfire,” Daredevil said. Maybe it was projection but his smile looked a little sad. Like he also knew this was probably the first and only time you would ever see each other.

You paused when you reached the street to pick up your bag of food. It was probably a mess but you were definitely weren’t going to cook when you got home. As you walked away, you faintly heard the low rumble of Daredevil’s voice, presumably talking to the police on that phone.

Notes:

A Tale of Two Men is a reference to A Tale of Two Cities, an 1859 novel by Charles Dickens. I’m thinking about making all of the titles for this series reference book titles.

It occurred to me recently that my Reader characters in the series all are some level of anxious. Probably because I have anxiety and that colors how I perceive the world. Hence the Reader with anxiety.

The alien invasion is a reference to the events of Avengers I. Fair warning that some of the larger events of the MCU will not be depicted same as they were in canon. Accept that this is an alternate universe and move on.

I know Charlie Cox has brown hair but in some lighting for Matt Murdock, his hair does have reddish tint . . . and Matt in the comics is (generally speaking) a redhead so I’ve compromised by making Matt Murdock have dark auburn hair, the kind that looks brown unless the light hits it right and brings out the red.

Reader is sighted but knows how to read braille. The story behind this will be revealed later.

This knowledge is only reason Reader considers the misprinted menu of nonsense to be funny. She would have not find it funny if she found out about the misspellings and such after handing it to customers.

From my understanding, using the hands of a clock is the best way to tell a blind person where something is relative to their position. The menu of nonsense was right in front of Matt so at his 12 o’clock. Directly behind would have been his 6 o’clock, etc.

In braille, the symbols for numbers 1 – 9 and the letters A – I are the same along with J and 0. The number sign is written before tells you those symbols are meant to be read as numbers instead of letters. So 123 instead of ABC. If I have the information right, a second number sign is used to indict the end of the numbers and return to letters.

But all of my knowledge of braille is self-taught so don’t take my words as gospel here.

A red eye is a 12 oz (340 g) cup of drip coffee topped with a single or double shot of espresso.

A cappuccino is a coffee drink with a double shot of espresso topped with a very frothy milk. It is slightly stronger than a latte because it has less milk.

A dirty chai latte is a coffee drink with a double shot of espresso, then a chai concentrate is poured into the milk which is frothed. Finally the milk and espresso are combined.

Crèma is a dense layer of foam that forms the top of an espresso shot and is a unique characteristic to the brewing method (forcing very hot water under pressure through finely ground compacted coffee).

At least in this fic, Matt Murdock is a proud member of The Pie Appreciation Society. The Society ranks include its long serving president Dean Winchester.

How much a lawyer makes a year depends on where they work and what kind of law they practice. People who work in public sector offices like a public defender or a state prosecutor generally make a comfortable living but they are never going to get wealthy doing that job. There are some lawyers who charge six figures or more per billable hour but those seem to be litigators and they aren’t as common as the associates who charge something less crazy (through probably still an eye-watering amount of money to some).

It’s Nelson & Murdock because (1) this takes place not too longer after the 3rd Season so they are still working out of the back of Nelson’s Meats and (2) New York law prohibits the formation of the Law Firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page unless all three are attorneys. So if Karen wants her name on the sign, she has a law degree to earn and a bar exam to pass. Which she just might do in this universe.

The white cane is held in one’s dominant hand. I picked the left hand for Matt as another nod to his comic book counterpart who is (again usually) left-handed.

Esquire is an honorific title that is only used in the United States for lawyers for . . . reasons. No one seems to know why.

‘Flick the bean’ is a euphemism for female masturbation.

A chef's knife is a knife about 8 inches (20 cm) long used for chopping, slicing, and dicing meat and vegetables. Unless you have something like a meat cleaver, it is probably the biggest knife in your kitchen.

The favorite necklace is part of some story elements so this is not a generic favorite necklace but a specific favorite necklace. But if you want to mentally change the specific elements of its later description to better suit yourself, go right ahead.

A lobster clasp is the one that looks a like a lobster claw.

Matt is in the Black Suit since he has yet to replace the Red Suit – the old one being too damaged by the Midland Circle and only other one in existence was worn by the impostor who murdered people. A version of the Red Suit will eventually appear (since as hot as the black suit is, the guy without a healing factor needs body armor) but I’m still working out how.

The description of the panic attack (shortness of breath, sensory overload, etc) along with its aftereffects (exhaustion, mood swings, etc) are based on my experiences.

Spitfire is nickname for someone with a temper, possibly referencing the WW2 plane.

The treatment for bruises comes from internet so grains of salt are advised.

A chef's jacket is a double-breasted jacket with mandarin collar commonly worn by chefs and bakers, traditionally made from thick, white cotton cloth but can be made in different colors these days. The thickness of the jacket is meant to help protect the chef or baker from heat, steam, and splashing liquids in a busy kitchen. Frequently the jacket has long sleeves to help protect arms while reaching into the ovens.

[cowboybeepboop]

Through the window

“Fuck you”

“Baby thats what youre gonna do”

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2214

Summary: Late night self pleasure turns into more than self pleasure.

Warnings: p in v, mainly porn with some plot, disgusting words for clit cause it got a little awkward at 1 am, use of vibrator, age gap (like three years), major daddy issues, kinda some Voyeurism, roughness from Bradley but with sweetness, praise kink, hair pulling, getting caught.

A/N: Literally just me writing this while sobbing to Shawn Mendes songs, also I wrote most of it while sitting out in front of my school 💪😩💪 I’m a fucking vibe. I don't know if there's like a big fandom on here anymore considering Top Gun Mav has been out for a while now but yk who cares. Also lowkey have been binging Harry Potter and the last of us so maybe I’ll write some of that later. Not proof read like ever

Bradley has been your built-in best friend, being Mavericks daughter means that you spent the majority of your childhood eating dinners with Carole, having Carole brush your hair and tuck you into bed. Carole Bradshaw became your adoptive mom, she taught you to cook, bake, sew, she helped you with your homework and made sure you knew your worth.

Mav was hardly ever around, he put his heart and soul into being a better person so that Goose wouldn’t be disappointed in him, this being said he forgot about the responsibility of actually taking care of his child. But you never blamed him for it, maybe it’s because when he was there with you all he ever wanted to do was cuddle on the couch watching your favorite films. Sometimes he would come home and lay his head on your lap and you would brush and braid his hair.

So, because of your sometimes absentee father, Bradley filled in. He was there with Mav for every milestone, kindergarten graduation, elementary school choir concerts, he even took time from his busy schedule to come to your highschool graduation.

Which makes your sexual attraction to him all the more disgusting, he basically was your stand in father, even though he was only 3 years older than you. But when Maverick finally realized he had a responsibility to spend more time with you, Brad stopped being like a father figure and more like an older friend who you had the hots for.

Bradley hasn’t been home for months-or longer, you totally haven’t been counting, and it totally hasn’t been exactly 8 months 3 weeks and 5 days. He isn’t planning on coming back any time soon, at least if he is he hasn’t told you, which is why you’re stuck pouting with your face between your hands as a few people purchase drinks from the bar.

You work at Penny’s bar, The Hard Deck, which is lowkey awkward considering your dad used to date her. But nonetheless she treats you like her own daughter. The only thing you dislike about working with her is the fact that she scolds you when you flirt while working, it's understandable but makes you want to roll your eyes.

Maverick walks in with a small smile on his face, sitting down at the bar in front of you, “How’s your day Y/N?”.

“It’s pretty good Mav, Penny might want to talk to you though,” winking at him you walk away, heading in the direction of the dart board.

“Hey boys, need a refill?” you smile sweetly, tapping your heel against the wooden floor softly.

“Thank you, baby girl,” Hangman smirks as he hands you the empty bottles, “you know which tab to add it to right?” he nods toward Coyote.

You give a small nod and head back to the bar to grab two more beer bottles, you add the total to Coyote’s tab. He lost in darts, even after covering Jake’s eyes, one more night and you don’t think you’ll be able to withstand his charm any longer.

“Y/N it’s time for you to clock out, if you want to beat the rush and get to your date on time,” your eyes light up.

“Thank you Pen!” you smile gathering your things before clocking out. “See you tomorrow evening.” Penny nods at you, smiling at you softly as you rush out of the door.

__________

Hours have passed along with another failed attempt at online dating. Both things have led to you lying in your bed holding your breath as you imagine what it'd be like if Bradley came home and surprised you.

It started off innocent, him holding your waist close to him, the heat radiating from his chest as you sucked in a deep breath. Basking in his mahogany, sandalwood and vanilla musky scent, it made your knees weak, your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your body felt hot, like you were boiling from the insides out. Squeezing your legs tightly together to keep your panties from soaking your bedsheets.

While biting your lip you carefully open the shoebox hidden underneath your bed, grabbing your bright pink bullet vibrator. If your dad came home, you’d know, so locking the door wasn’t a big priority.

Sucking in a deep breath you relax against your plush mattress. Licking your lips you spread your legs being gentle while unbuttoning your shirt, being slow with each button to build up the tension.

Once you finally peel off your blouse, you throw it to the side of the room before leisurely unzipping your skirt. You’re starting to become impatient, every part of your body is aching to be touched by Bradley’s calloused hands.

“For fucks sake,” a soft whine escapes your parted lips, squeezing your eyes shut you begin roaming your hands all over your body. You squeeze the soft part of your body, moaning Bradley’s name as you do so.

Spreading your legs, you pull down your panties, running a finger through your soaked lips. Once you find the bundle of nerves you start rubbing soft and steady circles into it, this causes your hips to jerk a little while your eyes roll back.

You wrap a hand around your neck putting a comfortable amount of pressure on it, soft moans spill from your lips as you push your hips up begging for more friction. You press the smooth button, listening to the faint hum, you press down two more times. The soft hum from before has become more intense and slightly louder.

Let’s be honest, masturbation is nothing compared to sex. Especially the sex you’ve been dreaming and lusting over since age 16.

A soft smile forms on your lips as you press the rough tip against the hood of your clit, your muscles all tense up while your breathing stops for just a second. It sounded like a rock or something else small had hit your window, after waiting for a few seconds you decide it's probably nothing and press the vibrator against your nub.

You bite down on your lip harshly, squeezing your neck roughly. Sadly, you have a shitty toy because desperate times call for desperate measures so there isn’t much more it can give. Removing the hand from your neck, pushing two fingers into your pulsating hole.

Unbeknownst to yourself, there was now a visitor in your room, one who snuck in from your open window. Hiding in the dark corner next to your window, a hand clasped against his mouth as he absorbed the sight of you desperate and needy begging for more.

“Bradley harder!” you moan loudly, as you pick up the pace of your fingers,your back arching. Cum spills from your pussy, you sink back into the mattress, sighing discontentedly.

“Oh, Sweetheart.” the familiar voice rings through the now silent room. You instantly throw your hands over your chest and squeeze your legs together tightly. “If you needed some help you could have just asked for it.” Bradley walks out into the middle of your room, staring down at you with darkened eyes.

“B-bradley, when did you get in here?” you try to play it cool but sweat is forming on your forehead as you rapidly cover up with a blanket, eyes shifting to the window.

“Do you mean, how much did I see? Or rather how much I heard?” He raises his eyebrows with a smirk, you nod as your cheeks turn a deep red. “Not much, just you pleading for me to be rougher, is that really how you like it princess?”.

“Bradley! Shut up,” you cover your face with your hands while trying to figure out the best thing for you to do now. “Look, I didn’t know you were stopping by. I’m sorry that you, uhm, that you saw what you saw.” Your voice cracks while you barely take a breath, his shoes clack against the floor as he makes his way to you.

The dip in the bed being the sign that he’s next to you. “Y/N, I really don’t care.” He pries your hands off your face. “I know you didn’t know I was coming into town, because it was a surprise.” He sucks in a deep breath, “I just didn’t know I was the one who would be surprised.”

The room fills with silence, just your accelerated breathing and the ticking of your alarm clock. “Hey Brad… Can you please leave?” you push your face into your knees.

Bradley licks his lips, “I think I have a better idea,” he runs a finger down your spine while pressing kisses into your shoulder. Your body relaxes into him as you sigh quietly, he pulls your face from your legs “Look at me, my pretty girl,” you slowly open your eyes while avoiding making eye contact,

“Darlin’ I want you to look in my eyes,” biting your lower lip you look up at him innocently, his hands move to cup your cheeks and pull you into his face. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grips your neck and leans into kiss you.

You move onto his lap while tangling your fingers in his hair, he groans into your mouth before pulling back. Bradley pulls away from your lips and moves to kiss your neck, using his body to push your back against your bed. You gasp as he explores your body with his mouth, calloused fingers pinching your nipples.

Arching into him you moan loudly as he pushes a finger into your throbbing pussy. “You like that?” his voice low and seductive, using his thumb he presses your nub softly. Bradley presses kisses all over your stomach, groaning at the sight of you so needy under him, pre cum leaks from his tip as he grinds against the bed.

“I need you right now, please,” you grab Bradley by his face and pull him up. Kissing his lips passionately while grinding down on his fingers.

“Oh what a needy little slut you are, huh?” He pushes two more fingers into you, “is this what you needed? Or is this a little more up your alley.” He smirks while wrapping a hand around your throat, applying ample pressure.

“Fuck you,” you groan, lips parting as your chest heaves, gasps pouring from your mouth.

“Baby, that's what you’re gonna do,” he taunts, Bradshaw has had enough. He finally lays down and pulls you onto his stomach, his hands massage your thighs as he lifts your hips up.

“Bradley wait,” your hands rest on his chest, “ condom, left middle drawer”. He leans over grabbing the small golden wrapper, ripping it open with his teeth, fumbling with the latex as he squeezes it over his tip.

“Thanks for reminding me princess,” he tucks your hair behind your ear, “now ride me babe,”.

Lining your hole up with his tip you begin to lower yourself down on him, moans leave your parted lips. He furrows his eyebrows, hands moving up to cup your breasts, you sink down on his length, wincing at the uncomfortable stretch.

“Fuck, good girl,” bradley groans, his shakey breathing fills your senses. You lift your hips slowly bouncing on his dick, he grabs your ass squeezing roughly. Your hands explore his abs as you use his body to steady your own.

Your eyes squeeze tight, body tightening up around him. Twirling your fingers into your hair you grasp the strands pulling at his roots.

Bradley flips the pair of you over, his eyes dark and dominant as he hovers over you, his hips thrust into yours at a steady pace. He lowers his head to suck on your erect nipple, one hand wraps around your neck squeezing just enough to slow your breathing.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you pull him to you, kissing his lips passionately, your nails dig into his back. Bradley presses his middle finger into your clit, rubbing rough circles into it, while trying to hold back moans you bury your face in his nape.

His thrusts become sloppy, bradleys hand tightens around your neck causing you to arch into him, he leans down sucking dark hickeys into your neck. “Darling, I’m so close,” the sound of skin slapping fills the room as you nod in response.

“Me too Bradley,” you whine quietly. Bradley uses his middle and pointer finger to rub sloppy circles into your sensitive nub, causing your body to jerk forward and your eyes to flutter shut, soft moans fill his ears.

He runs his hand through your hair pulling your head back. Bradley throws his head back in pleasure, you begin to tighten up around him drawing out a long groan. “Rooster,” you chant his name, “more, please I need more,”, he complies with your desires and angles your bodies so he hits even deeper.

Hugging your body close to his, he thrusts a couple more times before you cum around him, Bradley slows down as he cums. His body jerks softly, “Thats the best welcome home present ive ever gotten love,” he whispers into your ear.

Your bedroom door opens, revealing Maverick, “Get your clothes on and meet me in the living room,” his stern voice shakes you to the core.

Well shit

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Things are out of whack. So I'm writing ☺(smol-ey = smol smiley). This song has been on 100% repeat for the last several hours of my life and heavily inspired what is below. This is only Part I and I don't know how many there will be. But I've taken quite a few notes on it. I would just say be ready for more.

SFW ::: C/W ::: A-n-g-s-t & language. (aged up) ProHero!Katsuki x F!reader, things didn't turn out like either of them thought and they're doing their best to move on. But can they? Do they really even want to?

WC ::: Just under 700

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

He called you at 8:04 that morning. And while you didn't answer, you did do him the courtesy of listening to his voicemail.

Katsuki's voice was gruff and rough around all of the edges. He didn't like that you probably looked at the phone when it began to ring and you either flipped it over or pushed the volume button to silence the ringtone that you two had so sweetly picked out together when you first got together 3 1/2 years ago.

The sound took you back to that time when everything was new and fun and so simple that you thought it would be like that forever. But you were harshly reminded that if things don't change, they will most likely die. It would take a miracle to figure out where, along the way, did you both change so much that you couldn't live together anymore.

"Oi, I know you're sitting there looking at your phone, listening to that fuckin' stupid little song we picked out on our 11th date. Yeah, course I remember. Anyway, uh, whatever. I mean, you needa come by and get the rest of your stuff outta here. I -” You heard a muffled sound as he tucked the phone away and yelled at someone. “- hold the fuck on, can you not see that I'm on the fuckin' phone? Jesus. Uh, um, oh. Get the rest of your shi- uh, stuff today. P-please. I'm off today and won't be home between 9 this morning to about 6 or 7 tomorrow morning. That should give you more than enough time to get everything. Ok? O-ok. Leave your ... key, too, I s'pose. Well, that's it. I lo- fuck! Bye, y/n."

The tears welled up in your eyes like they had everyday this week. As soon as you opened them to take in the empty space around you, in your bed, your bleak little apartment was a fucking joke compared to the place you two once lived together. And while you're the one who, for all intents and purposes, asked for this, you couldn't lie to yourself any longer: You did not want to be without him.

You did not want to be away from the man you loved with every cell of your stupid body. Every breath. Every heartbeat was the beating of a drum sounding out his praise. Every smile and every flutter of your eyelashes was because of him. God, you miss him.

But to just leave it at this? To let go completely? That would be an admission that it's how things will be from here on out. And you're just not ready for that to be your final answer.

Texting him back, in response to his call, you said as little as you could, still getting the point across. "Yeah, thanks for the heads-up. I'll take care of everything and leave my key on the kitchen counter by the coffee maker." You choked back a sob as you thought about all the times he set up the coffee the night before and climbed into bed with you. Wrapping his arms around you. Snuggling his face into your neck and telling you that he made it extra strong, just how you like it. And that he picked up your favorite creamer flavor - it was 2 for $7, so obviously he got you 2 of them because it would be fuckin' stupid not to. 

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to walk. It hurts to be awake. You have all day and all night to get over there and clear out whatever is left of your lives together. To leave the one thing behind that could get you to him at any moment in time. 

So, you threw on a pair of his old sweats, an old favorite shirt of his, and a hoodie with his Pro Hero name on it. Fixed your face. Put your hair back. Grabbed your purse and headed to your favorite coffee place to get something to appease this godforsaken headache you had brewing in the core of your brain and drove to his place.

You drove home. 

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl @arlerts-angel

[angel-eyes05]

the scent of you

pairing: fem!hispanic!supervillain!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: after chasing him for so long, you've finally caught him. the infamous spiderman 2099. and now you were going to show him what it was like to be in your grasp

warnings: nsfw, dom!reader, sub!miguel, he's kinda bratty too ngl, bdsm, bondage (miguel is being tied up yet again the poor guy), p in v unprotected, reader's a bit of a psychopath lmao, lots of blood lmao reader has blood manipulation powers so you can imagine how that goes for someone whos constantly compared to a vampire, no use of y/n, no use of miguel's name cause you don't know it lol

word count: 2.0k

notes: im literally writing this at 1 am as a desperate attempt to get my activity back up since no one's reading bite the hand lmao. so of course my first resort is actual porn. also, im aware miguel isn't actually a vampire but i just wanted to give him some vampiric tendencies...just cause lmao its more fun like that. this was fun lets do it again some time lmao

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

You’d always enjoy the hunt. In your line of work, one of Kingpin’s subordinates, it was the main thing you did. Catching those he sent you after, knowing you would always finish the job. Yeah sure, most of the time they were nobodies, but damn if you didn’t love the terrified look on their face just before you went for the kill. 

Dea Tacita, the Roman goddess of the dead, was the name you were given by your victims. You earned it due to your silent killing style, just like how she was also nicknamed as “the silent goddess”. But while you might have been silent, your victims certainly were not. Your ability to manipulate others and your own blood led for particularly painful deaths indeed. Either forcefully ripping the ichor from their body, or slowly raising the temperature of it, basically boiling them alive. 

This most certainly was not the life you had planned for yourself, but you’d grown to deal with it. Hell, sometimes you even loved it. You got high off of the final breathes of your victims once they were gone. 

You were especially ecstatic today. You were put on the task by Kingpin a few weeks ago. A strange figure in a blue and red electronic suit had been popping in and out of Alchemax, stealing tech, and making his getaway in a neon orange, hexagonal portal. It sounded intriguing to you. It became even more intriguing after you saw his massive build for yourself during your first encounter. His tall stature, broad shoulders, and incredibly toned physique. It’s no wonder he beat you within your first couple of battles, even with your powers. But you didn’t mind. 

Losing only meant that you got to see him again. And that he got to pin you down to the floor whenever you two were finished throwing fists at each other. But this was strange. You had gone up against him so many times and had lost, again and again and again. But you had gotten word from one of your own subordinates a few hours ago that he’d finally been caught. Why? Was he giving himself up? No way. You had to go see him for yourself. And then after, you would finish the job.

You strutted down the hallways to the containment room where he was supposedly being kept. You even caught yourself fixing strands of your hair and pressing down on your outfit, dressing up for the occasion. When you opened the door, your knees nearly went weak. The man was sitting there, on that chair that was definitely too small for him, unconscious with his head leaning back behind him. Plus, his mask was off, so now you could finally get a glimpse of that beautiful face of his. Sculpted cheekbones, wavy and slicked back brown hair, and slight gray streaks going through his hair. That wasn’t even the best part. The best part was what was around him.

Rope. Black strings of rope tying him to the chair, carving out each and every one of his muscles, put on by your lackeys, almost as if they knew. His beautiful pecs sitting there so pretty, almost calling out to you, and his legs spread wide open due to his unconscious state. You walked fully into the room, shutting and locking the doors behind you. You leaned on the table that sat in front of him, admiring his beauty. Once you were done undressing him with your eyes, you clenched your hand to get his blood flow to start moving faster, slowly waking him up.

“Hey there Tiger,” you said once his hypnotic, crimson red eyes finally fluttered open. He groaned in response. “Where the hell am I?” he asked, his low drowsy voice sending butterflies into your stomach. “Don’t worry, that won’t be a problem for you soon enough,” you responded, getting up from your lean to walk up closer to him. He squirmed around lightly in his bondage. “You’ve been a little thorn in Kingpin’s side for the past couple of weeks, haven’t you now?” “If thorn in his side means protecting the people of this city, then yeah I guess I have,” he said back, a little strained. You walked up behind him, one hand on his shoulder, and the other knitted into his hair, massaging his scalp. His eyes closed, soft sighs leaking from his lips as your fingers intertwined with his hair. “Mhm,” was all you responded with.

A quick whimper escaped him when you abruptly yanked his hair back so he could look you in the eyes. “That means you’ve been causing trouble for me too, Tiger.” His breathing was heavy as he stared up into your eyes. “So why don’t we just take care of this nice and quickly, hm?” You pushed his head back forward. 

“Would you mind elaborating on tha-.” He was quickly cut off with a groan as you attached your mouth to the crook of his neck, pressing warm kisses into it and light sucks. You made your way all along his neck to his collarbones, finding your way to sit on his lap in the meantime. You could feel his already rock hard cock underneath you. So he did plan this, you thought to yourself. You decided to play along into his little game. You separated your lips from his chest, wrapped your hand underneath the ropes, and yanked him up to you. “Your suit’s digital right? So you can control it with your thoughts?” you asked gently. He nodded. “Take it off.”

His facial expression didn’t budge. “Or what, huh?” You smirked. His expression quickly changed though when he felt his body getting hotter and hotter. It changed again, a strained whimper coming from him, when you yanked his hair backwards again. “Take. It. Off.” Next thing you knew, his tan skin was peaking out from where his suit used to be. The suit must have been a thin layer, because his bare cock underneath your ass now felt just as hard, if not harder, than before. 

You smiled at him. “Much better.” You grabbed his face, but instead of doing what he expected, which was to smash your faces together, you leaned in slowly to him, lips just barely grazing, before you pulled away again. You kept doing this, until he eventually started whining, even going as far as to reach his face forward to yours, getting a chuckle out of you. “Ay coño mamita, would you just get it over with already?” he whined. You smiled at him. “Paciencia querido, paciencia. Mal recompensa que más tarde.” You confirmed this with him once you lifted up your ass and dragged one of your hands to his cock, teasing the tip ever so slightly.

Though even that made his hips jerk forward into you. You stood up, leg on each outside of the chair, teasing at both his cock and his lips. His whines were driving you crazy as you edged him on. After getting tired of it all, the man was finally able to get a hold on your lips. Once he smushed them together with yours, hands still tied back to the chair, you didn’t reject it, and went all in. One hand on his cheek, the other at length, you slipped your tongue in between his lips. You quickly pulled away though when you felt a hard bite down on your tongue. You removed your hand from his penis quickly as you inspected your tongue. “¿Qué mierda?” you asked, agitated. “Ay, discúlpame. Pero no pude evitarlo,” he said, almost as if biting you was on instinct. You wiped your now bleeding tongue with your thumb, admiring the maroon liquid that you had grown attached to. You used your power to collect it all up into the air, elongating it into a stream of blood. 

You had noticed though, that the Spider-Man’s gaze was pinned on the the ichor. That’s right. The man was basically a vampire. Driven by an unnatural thirst for blood. It was something pulled right out of a 1930s horror movie. And right now you were tempting him, waving his food in front of his face. “You want it, hm?” His eyes didn’t even move away from it when he nodded. You let out a low chuckle, then released your clutch on it, letting the blood fall onto your lap. Once you see his eyes dart down to your thigh (him even going as far to reach his mouth down to it), you yank his bondage towards you and put a hand back down to his crotch, strongly twisting his balls. 

He grunts and moves his eyes back to your low eyes. “Only good boys get fed. Are you gonna be a good boy for me, Spider-Man?” He didn’t respond, probably out of embarrassment. You then give a cruel squeeze to his balls. “Ok, ok, ok, I will!” he yelped out. “You’ll what?” you teased, hands still squeezing. He sighed. “I’ll be a good boy for you, mommy.” You smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

You connect your lips back to his, and he slips his tongue in almost right away to lick off the rest of your blood from your tongue. You slip off your underwear, and sit down on his cock, using one of your free hands to guide it into you. You both moaned into each other’s mouths as he entered you. You preferred to have teased him for a little longer, but to be honest, you were starting to get a little antsy for him too.

You thrusted, hard, onto his cock, making sure to get his tip onto all your sweet spots. He moved his mouth down your neck and collarbone, leaving sweet kisses and hickeys where his mouth once was. It took everything out of him to not sink his teeth into your neck. He even seems to make his way down to your chest, using the open boob window in your dress to stuff his face into your breasts, almost seeming to get lost in them as he motorboats you. It’s slightly immature, but you were too busy indulging in the ferocity of his cock to care, as he made your pussy his own. 

He eventually moves back up to your mouth. In between kisses, you manage to get out, “Why did you get caught.” “¿Qué quieres decir?” he sighs out. “I mean, I tried, ngh, to beat you. How did they catch you, and n-not me.” He takes a while for his answer, more focused on trying to figure out how to get himself further in you. “Because, I needed to see you again.” “Why?” “Your smell.”

You sighed into his mouth as a question. “You smell like blood. Overpowering. Intoxicating. Casi como un hechizo.” You pull away to look him in the eyes.

“I couldn’t just leave without knowing what your pussy feels like, mi reina.”

You chuckled a little bit. “Eres una puta.” He smirked. “Sólo por ti, mamita.”

You both were finally starting to reach your climaxes. He decided to take the fall and finish first. He let out groans, grunts, and whimpers as he came in your sweet pussy. Once he was finished, you let out your orgasm, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and moaning into his bare chest for leverage. Once you both finished, you slowly remove yourself from him. You use your fingers to clean up and taste the mess below you by your dripping cunt. Miguel lets his suit come back onto him, his head leaning forward and panting. 

Realizing you can’t let him out, you clench your fist again to slow the movement of his blood, putting him back under. You fix your hair and press down on your outfit. But before leaving the room, you turn back to look at him. He looked so pretty sleeping there. You quickly walked up to him, and planted a deep, soft kiss into his scruffy cheek. 

As you left the room, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t kill him. You couldn’t finish the job. It would’ve been so easy to do it right here right now. You didn't even know his name. There was zero connection between the two of you, other than what just happened. This had never been a problem before. So why was it now?

Why?

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

a/n: im so tired its currently 4 am i need sleep lmao im so tired i have got to stop going to bed at 3-5 am

[sissylittlefeather]

Aaaaaaand....

A Very Quiet Life: Chapter 3

A/N: Part 3 of the AU where Elvis is your next door neighbor in the suburbs in the late '60s. This one is a long chapter, but it HEATS UP, my friends, so stay with me. Parts 4 & 5 are also written, so they'll be posted soon as well!

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, Minors DNI! There's mention of an injury (non-violent), reader is a widow, cussing, then the dirty stuff like oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, etc.

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

I hope it is worth the wait! ❤️

Song inspo (in case you forgot)

Gif inspo (because why not?)

You should be careful what you wish for.

******

Two weeks after the popsicle incident, as you've been calling it in your head, you're out front with your kids while they play in the sprinkler. You can't believe how hot it still is in mid-September. You're seriously considering getting in the sprinkler yourself when you see Elvis walk into his yard to water his grass. He's mowed your lawn twice since the incident, but you haven't let him come inside. You don't trust yourself to be alone with him and he always seems to choose a time when you are alone. He waves and smiles and you return the gesture. You wish you didn't notice how good he looks today, but you've got on sunglasses, so you let your eyes wander. He has his short sleeves rolled up and he's wearing blue jeans that fit his ass perfectly. You're no longer sweating because of the heat. The sun is starting to go down, though, so it's a perfect excuse to gather your kids and go inside. As you look back at them, Michael jumps over the sprinkler. His feet hit the wet grass and slide out from under him. He hits the ground hard, landing on his wrist. He lets out a blood-curdling scream and your heart stops. You're out of your chair in seconds, running over to him. Somehow, Elvis beats you to him and scoops him up off the ground.

"Go get your keys! We need to go to the ER!" He calls to you while Michael screams in his arms. His wrist is bent in a way that makes your stomach turn. You sprint back into the house and grab your purse and your shoes. In seconds, you're back out the front door. Elvis is holding Michael close, leaning against the hood of your car, and rocking him gently. He's stopped screaming. Jane is crying quietly next to Elvis, holding onto his shirt. As you get closer to them you hear his voice. He's singing to Michael. If the circumstances were any different, the tender scene would warm your heart. His voice is smooth and silky and it hits you in all your soft places. But you're too worried about Michael to think about anything else. You unlock the car door and Elvis slides into the back seat with both kids. You jump in the driver's seat and try to start the car. Your hands are shaking, though, and you struggle.

"Take a deep breath, honey, we're okay."

His voice is steady and calm. You do as he says, breathe deeply, and start the car.

******

In the emergency room, you hold Michael and Elvis holds Jane while you check out. You've been there for over three hours and both kids are wiped out. Michael has a new blue cast on his wrist that's wrapped loosely around your neck. He's still awake, but just barely. Jane is asleep on Elvis's shoulder, snoring quietly. You finally get back out to your car and softly lay both kids in the backseat.

"I can drive." You nod at Elvis and toss him your keys. You're exhausted too. You slide into the passenger seat and start the drive home. It takes you a good five minutes to realize you're holding his hand. Or maybe he's holding your hand. Either way, your fingers are interwoven on the seat between you. It's comfortable and intimate in a way you haven't experienced since your husband died. You know you shouldn't be doing it, but you're too tired to care. He's been so kind and helpful today. It was nice to not be alone through this. You look up at him. His profile is beautiful with the streetlights shining in the windows.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do all this today." He looks at you and smiles.

"I really don't mind. I'm just glad he's okay."

"How are you so good with children?" He shrugs.

"I don't know. I've always been like this. I teach piano and guitar lessons and most of my clients are kids. I just think they have the best view of the world." That's why he's always home during the day. He works there.

"You didn't want kids of your own?" That question probably crosses a line, but with his hand in yours it feels like you can ask anything. Still, his face darkens and he looks out the window.

"I did. My wife did not."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." You start to pull your hand away, but he tightens his grip on your fingers.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind." He looks at you again with a sad smile. "She works a lot. She's one of the only women in her office, so she didn't want to be held back by having kids." It's weird to talk about her while you're holding her husband's hand. "I just wish she'd told me before we got married." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice when he says the last part.

You ride quietly for the last bit of the drive. He pulls the car up to the front curb and gets out to help you carry the kids inside. Once they're both safely settled in bed, you drop onto your couch and burst into tears. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, the fear and pain and tiredness of the day win out and you fall apart. Elvis sits next to you and puts his arm around you, letting you cry on his shoulder.

"There ya go, honey, let it out. I know today was a lot." He kisses the top of your head and strokes your hair. After a few more minutes of crying you're able to pull yourself together a bit and you look at the clock on the mantle. You sit up straight.

"It's almost midnight! Isn't your wife going to wonder where you are?!" He looks at his shoes for a moment, like he's trying to decide whether he should be honest, and then looks back at you.

"She's on a business trip. I can stay as long as you need me." Your stomach does a flip flop. As long as you need him.

His eyes are so blue as they flick down to your mouth and back up to your eyes. He puts his hand on the side of your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb, wiping away any remnants of tears. Your heart beats so hard and fast that you're pretty sure he can hear it.

Slowly, carefully, he leans in and touches his lips to yours. Lightening shoots through you straight out to your fingertips and he kisses you softly again. The third time he kisses you, his mouth is open and he parts your lips too. You let his tongue slide into your mouth and send yours to match his movements. His hand moves back to your hair and he holds you closer for a more passionate kiss. After a few minutes, he pulls you onto his lap, straddling him, with his hands on your hips. You press your body against his and kiss him so intensely that you start to get lost in him. He loses control too and slides both hands up under your shirt and bra, cupping your breasts and squeezing them gently. You pull your shirt off over your head and he reaches behind your back to undo your bra. He kisses your shoulder and then moves back to the center kissing you along your collarbone. You throw your head back as he grazes his lips down to your nipple. His two hands cover almost all of your back as he sucks and nibbles your chest. You feel his erection between your legs, pushing into you where you want him the most. You lift his shirt and pull it over his head, exposing the soft patch of hair on his chest. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a deep kiss, your naked skin pressed up against his.

You back away from him and slink down to the floor between his knees. You reach up to unbutton his pants and free his erection from his jeans. His dick is perfect. You slide his foreskin down, exposing the tip, and run your tongue around it softly. He groans and leans his head back on the couch. Then he looks back at you, watching while you work your mouth on him, taking him in as much as you can until he hits the back of your throat.

"Fuckkk, y/n..." he moans as you continue to lick and suck him. Hearing him say your name like that makes you even wetter than you already are. You pull him fully into your mouth again and then slide your tongue in a small circle around the head. You lick slowly up and down him a couple of times and then back off of him. He opens his eyes when you stop and watches you stand up and slide your pants down. You hope he won't notice how wet your panties are, but he immediately does.

"This all for me, baby?" He asks as he reaches his hand out and touches your panties. You nod as he begins to rub circles on you. Then, he slides your panties to the side and pushes his finger into you. He pulls your hips closer to him and switches from one finger to two, moving them in and out and tickling inside you. You groan and shudder around his hand. Just when you can't stand it anymore, he pulls his fingers out.

"Lay down, honey." He guides your hips down to the couch and lays you back, slipping your panties off and positioning himself between your legs. He lowers his head down and pushes his tongue into your slit. You gasp and arch your back as he continues to lick your sensitive bud around in circles, then left and right over the top, stopping periodically to push his tongue back into you. Your orgasm is building inside you as electricity gathers in your center. He continues to lick and tongue-fuck you until you feel like you might explode.

"Come for me, baby." He whispers it into you and the vibration of his voice throws you over the edge as he flattens his tongue against you one more time. You do exactly as he tells you to and shiver and pulse as the waves of pleasure crash into you over and over again until he finally stops licking you.

He climbs back up your body and kisses your neck while you lay under him breathing heavily. You haven't been able to say much this whole time, but now you find your voice and speak softly into his ear.

"Fuck me, Mr. Presley." He groans and stands up to remove his pants completely. For a moment, he stops, and just looks at you laying there naked. You worry that he's having second thoughts or thinking about his wife. Before you can say anything, though, he smiles.

"You're fucking beautiful." You sit up and pull him down on top of you.

"I noticed it the first time I saw you through that window." So he did see you. He lines himself up with your entrance and teases you a bit with his tip.

"I've been dreaming of this ever since." He thrusts deeply and plunges his dick into you as far as it'll go, filling you entirely.

"Oh my godddddd" you moan as he pumps in and out of you.

"You feel so good, baby. So tight and wet for me. I fucking love it." He kisses your neck and shoulder. You continue to fuck in this position for a good while, both of you reveling in the satisfaction of finally getting what you want.

Eventually, you push him backwards off of you into a siting position. You straddle him again and lower yourself onto him until he fills you up. You whimper and moan again at the feeling of his length hitting the sensitive spot inside of you. As you slide up and down on him, you feel another climax building. You bounce wildly with his hands on your back guiding your movements. You stop and roll your hips, pushing him as deep as he can go. You want to feel every inch of him. He holds you still for a second and looks into your eyes.

"Can I...? Should I pull out?" He asks tentatively.

"No." Fuck it. "Come inside me. I need to feel you." He groans again as you continue to fuck him with everything you've got. Your own orgasm is so close; you don't want to stop. Every pump brings you to the edge until he lifts his hips under you and you slam down onto him one last time.

"Oh fuck yes y/n!" He yells as you tumble into oblivion with him, the unimaginable pleasure filling every part of you. Your legs begin to shake as you lay your forehead on his shoulder. You sit there for a bit, trying to catch your breath. He wraps his arms around you and kisses you playfully.

"Can I stay?"

"The kids wake up really early..."

"I promise I'll be gone before they even think about it." You secretly wish he could be there when they wake up, like a normal family. But he's not their father. He has a wife. You climb off of him and try to walk to the bathroom. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to his lap, wrapping himself around you again.

"I just want to be close to you as long as possible." He kisses your shoulder and any resolve you had about sending him home melts.

"Come get in the bed." He smiles a wide and relaxed smile and puts his boxers back on. He picks up his T-shirt and pulls it down over your head, so that you're wearing it. Then, he follows you into the bedroom and crawls into your bed. You go to the bathroom and get some new panties to sleep in. You leave his shirt on, though, because you love that it smells like him. When you get in the bed, he pulls you close to him and wraps his arms around you. You haven't slept with a man in your bed in a long time. It feels nice. He feels nice.

How are you going to keep yourself from getting used to this?

******

Chapter 4 coming soon!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @suxny @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates

Want to be added to the Taglist? Let me know!

[morganski-19]

Things I Won't Say When I'm Sober Part 5

part 1, part 4, part 6

It’s been a week since Steve’s seen Eddie. Not because he was avoiding him, at least in full. He’s only partially avoiding him. Really he’s just been busy with work and the kids. But the knowledge of what happened that night keeps rolling around in his mind in a way he doesn’t like. 

He can’t keep thinking that Eddie overheard him that morning. Heard the last strings of Steve’s confession, and even though he would have never heard that Steve liked Eddie directly, he could have heard enough to connect the dots. After the initial confession, he and Robin weren’t exactly whispering. They weren’t loud either, but with the thin walls of the trailer, it didn’t really matter. 

If Eddie heard anything from the end of the conversation, there was one fact he would definitely know, Steve liked guys. That was enough for Steve to avoid Eddie, fearing that their friendship was at the end.

Though, there was some peace that came through the worry. Steve had told another person about the knot in his stomach in the past few weeks. Honestly, for the past few years. It had just grown to the point where he couldn’t ignore it anymore. It was weird to be out to someone and have them accept you so fast, especially when you couldn’t do the same to yourself. But that helped the pain start to go away. Someone accepted him for who he is, maybe he could finally do the same. 

Steve was already at a point where he was able to accept himself, but Robin’s acceptance was the last ray of sunshine to finally help him bloom. He felt whole. For the first time in a long time, he knew what it was like to look at himself in the mirror and see him, all of him. Not someone crafted the way society wanted. Just him. It was refreshing, and terrifying all at the same time.

The phone starts to ring on his bedside table. He glances at the alarm clock, 1:30, late for anyone normal to be calling. The beat in his chest starts to race as he picks up the phone, anticipating a call for help that might be on the other end.

“Stevie,” Eddie slurs from the other end. “You’re still up”

Relief fills Steve as he slumps back into his bed. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”

“Don’t know. Prolly to talk to you.” 

“Are you drunk?”

Eddie laughs from the other end. “Maybe,” he draws out.

Steve sighs. “Go get a glass of water and maybe I’ll talk to you while you sober up.”

“But I don’t want to,” Eddie whines. Steve can imagine the pout on his face and can’t help but smile at it. “Hey, can I tell you a secret?”

“If this is your way of saying you have a secret and telling me I can’t know it just to get back at me for not telling you mine, then no.”

Eddie scoffs. “Nooo, this is different. This is a secret for your ears only, not Robin’s.”

“Ok, then you can tell me.” Steve doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop smiling.

“Yay. My secret” Eddie pauses for dramatic effect, “is that I know your secret.”

The smile on Steve’s face drops. “W-what?” 

His heartbeat starts beating fast again as tension builds in his stomach. He’s trying not to, but he’s sure his breathing quickened enough that Eddie could hear it over the phone. This was what he was worried about all week, and it happened. Eddie heard, he knew. Not just the last bit, but everything. And he sounded so happy about it. Happy that he knew the secret that Steve was so afraid to tell him. 

“Yep,” Eddie said. “I heard you and Birdie talking about it. Someone’s got a crush,” he sings songs. “And on a GUY. Don’t know why you couldn’t tell me. S’not like I would have a problem with it.”

Steve’s head stops spinning. “What?”

“And you wanna know what I think? I think that guy is a fucking idiot if he doesn’t like you back. I think that any guy would be lucky to date a guy like you, I sure would. All the guys I’ve been with were terrible, but you. You’re like … perfect.”

“Eddie,” Steve says, shocked. “What are you-”

Eddie shushes him. “Let me finish. I’m not done telling you my secret.” He pauses. “What was it again? Right, you like a guy. A guy that you don’t think likes you back with is just stupid because you’re perfect. Like you are kind and funny and pretty. Like sooo pretty, Stevie, it kills me. And when I woke you up with that nightmare, you didn’t judge me. You just, you held me. Like in a way that no one’s done before, like no one. And then that morning, I woke up in your arms and just like.” He stops mid-sentence letting the line buzz between them. 

“Eddie, are you still there?” Steve’s finding it hard to breathe, trying to convince himself that what Eddie is saying is leading up to nothing. That this is all just some cruel trick Eddie thought would be funny cause he’s drunk. 

“My real secret,” Eddie whispers into the phone, so soft that Steve can barely hear, “is that I wish I was the guy you liked. Cause I haven’t been able to sleep the same knowing you like guys, and that guy isn’t me.”

The line goes dead.

Steve’s heart starts beating out of his chest as the phone falls out of his hands. Did he just hear what he did? This all wasn’t some insane dream that his mind cooked up just to fuck with him. He rubs his eyes, trying to get rid of sleep that isn’t there. Pinching himself just to see if it was real, even though he knows that’s not how it’s supposed to work. 

What he does know, it this isn’t supposed to be this easy. Eddie isn’t supposed to like him back, he isn’t supposed to want Steve as much as Steve wants him. He isn’t supposed to call in the middle of the night in a big drunk confession and then just hang up like nothing happened. Or before Steve could even say anything. He isn’t supposed to do it in a way that Steve might not believe the next morning. 

Miracles don’t happen every day, especially for Steve and especially when it comes to people he likes. Steve isn’t this guy that people just magically like back, not in the way he likes them. He’s supposed to be the one that falls hard, breaking apart when they leave him hanging up to dry. It’s happened before and he was certain that it would happen again. 

I haven’t been able to sleep the same knowing you like guys, and that guy isn’t me. 

Eddie’s confession hangs in the air like a rope, waiting for Steve to grab onto it. Simple words of desperation and lost hope because Eddie thinks the same as Steve. That they’re not a person that the other could want. That even though the possibility is there, it would never come to fruition. There was no way the other person could ever return their feelings, so they prepared for rejection before it even started. 

Steve doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t even know if he wants to believe that it’s true. He’s spent so long thinking that this could never happen, that he never prepared for what he would do if it did. He’s at a loss just staring at the ceiling. Debating going to sleep and letting Eddie sleep off the booze or running over there to say what he’s wanted to for so long. Words that he couldn’t even fathom saying before a week ago. That he wants what he thinks he can’t, and won’t let Eddie go so easily after saying he can have it. 

Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow he would go over to Eddie’s trailer and hope that he remembers. Hope that it wasn’t just the booze talking and that all of what Eddie said is true. Tell Eddie everything, that he wants him just as much as Eddie seems to want Steve. That Eddie didn’t have to lose sleep anymore because Steve wanted him. Because Steve likes him, Steve likes him so much. 

He falls asleep hoping that when he wakes up it wasn’t all a dream.

oops, I wrote too much again. the last part will be coming next week? (actually this time)

Tag list (lmk if you want to be added or removed): tag list: @imfinereallyy @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @overhillunderhill @renaissan-vvitch @ashwagandalf @sirsnacksalot @lorelei724 @emly03 @super-cosmic-library @rozzieroos @dolphincliffs @henderdads @abyssal808 @evergreenprose @demolvr @steddiehyperfixation @stedumpsterfire @ent-is-indecisive @steddierthings @makeadealwithdean @kas-eddie-munson @extra-transitional @lunaticmarunatic @steveharringtonmilf @cardboardqueen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @panicatthediaz @ellietheasexylibrarian @hallucinatedjosten @awkwardgravity1 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @its-a-me-a-morgan @messrs-weasley @dreamlandforever @stevesbipanic @inmoonywetrust @sani-86 @aellafreya @lorelei724 @punkprettyboyprincess @stoopidstrwbrry @martinskis-lydias @a-gae-af-racoon

[crushculture03]

Teacher Assistant Pt. 2

Summary : Your now boyfriend Matty, has had a stressful two weeks and it’s up to you to help him out.

Part 1

Pairing : Professor! Matty x fem!reader

Warnings : Smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving) , slight choking kink, fluff towards the end, name calling.

Word count : 2.1k

Ever since that night in his office, the two of you have been inseparable, constantly sneaking around and sharing stolen kisses when no one was looking. You wished more than anything that your relationship with matty could be public, you both did, but you knew it was strictly taboo for a professor and their subordinate to be involved with eachother, and in a way the forbiddeness of it all made your guys relationship even hotter.

You knew today Matty had a lecture, you also know how hes been very stressed lately with final papers slowly rolling in and deadlines for graded work pushing closer. So you decided to surprise him in class, by putting on the same outfit you always use to wear when you’d visit him to grade papers, a short skirt and a thin blouse, you hoped that it would maybe make him feel a bit better.

He was in the middle of his lecture, when you carefully opened the door, not wanting to bring too much attention to yourself as you entered the lecture hall late. Luckily it was a small class so no one even noticed you entering the building. Slowly you walked down the steps until you made it to the front row, you knew for your plan to work you’d have to sit in the front, it was perfect because most students sat to the back so no one but Matty would see the antics you were about to pull.

When you finally took your seat in the middle of the front row, Matty turned around, he had been writing something on the board when you came in and had his back turned to you. “Ok class so as you can see” he said to his students, before his eyes landed on you, his heart skipping a beat as he took in your appearance. “Um so-so as you can see those are the um four branches of philosophy” he stuttered out, his mind now consumed with the thoughts of what he wanted to do to you.

Matty quickly cleared his throat, an attempt to regain his focus, but it was useless when he saw you slowly cross your legs, skirt riding up ever so slightly to reveal the green lace of your underwear, his favorite. He tried so hard to focus back on his lecture but the aching of his cock in his pants and the sight of your plush thighs and cleavge was too much, and eventually he ended up saying “Class dismissed early, just work on your final papers and have them in by the end of the week”.

The students quickly got up, happy to be leaving early. Once the last student walked out the door, matty walked up to you “And just what do you think you’re doing” he asked, you looked up at him with innocent eyes “What? I just wanted to learn more about Philiosophy” you said, a smile creeping onto your face.

“Do you dress like this for all of your lectures or just for the professors that you want to fuck?” he teased, placing his hand on your thigh as he leaned closer to you. “ Well not all the professors are sexy boyfriend are they?” you said, grabbing his tie to pull him into a kiss. “You’re going to be the death of me” he whispered, you giggled at this statement, “When do you have to be out of the lecture hall?” you ask, moving your lips down his face and to his neck, he groans as you do so “In an hour” he mumbles.

“More than enough time” you point out, he chuckles as he realizes your intentions. “Baby did you do this on purpose?” he asks, “Maybe” you whisper, trailing your hands down his chest, slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. Before you knew it, Matty picks you up out of your seat, you yelp out in surprise, “You think you can tease me and get away with it” he says, you look up at him, his pupils dilated from lust. “I-” you say, but he quickly silences you by placing his lips to yours and taking you over to the desk, gently placing you down on top of it.

You bite your lip as he pulls away from you, your eyes making there way down to the bulge in his pants, you reach your hands out and slowly palm him through his dress pants, he throws his head back with a moan.

You try to get up from the desk slowly, but he stops you by placing a firm grip on your hips, “sorry darling but bad girls don’t get to suck my cock ” he teases, you whine “but” you try to reason with him. “You want to be a tease well baby it’s time for your punishment” he says, his hands coming up to your blouse, slowly undoing it, you gasp as the cool air hit your bare chest, matty tsks as he takes in your appearance “No bra? You really are a dirty girl” he chuckles, before taking one of your breasts in his hand, slowly kneading it, you moan at the sensation.

You whine when you feel his warm touch leave your chest and slowly make its way down your body till he reaches the the hem of your skirt. “Matty” you beg for any kind of relief, “not my fault you wanted to be a tease baby” he chuckles, before slowly pulling your skirt down your legs. He bends down and places soft kisses on your inner thighs eventually making his way to where you need him most. You feel his hot breath over your core, “Matty” you moan as he places a a kiss over the fabric of your core.

“Mm my perfect little slut wearing my favorite underwear just for me” he teases, before slowly pulling them down your legs, now fully exposed in front of him. You bite you lip trying to hold back a moan as you see him spread your legs wider. Matty gently licks a strip up you core, you grip onto his curls as you feel his tongue hit you, “matty” you moan as he connects his lips with your clit, slowly moving the bud with his tongue.

You pull him closer to you, the feeling of his soft curls on your thighs was something you always enjoyed when he would go down on you. “More” you pleaded, matty obeyed and slowly entered one finger into you, his tongue never stopping its assault on your clit. “ so close” you moaned, this caused matty to enter another finger inside of you. You tugged harshly on his hair as you came, matty moaned as you pulled his hair, slowly licking up your release, trying his best not to waste a drop.

He finally pulled away from your thighs, looking up at you, his chin and lips still wet from your release. He smiled at you before getting up and pulling you into a kiss, you moaned into it as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your hands grasp onto his belt, quickly undoing it, your fingers then unzip his dress pants pulling them down slightly, just enough to pull his cock out of his briefs. He moans as you take him into your hand, slowly pumping him up and down. “Need to feel you” he groans, you respond by quickly lining him up with you core, gently tapping his hip as a signal for him to move forward. Matty gets the hint and grabs your hips, slowly entering you, you both throw your heads back in pleasure at the new sensation.

“You have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this” he says into your neck as he pulls himself out of you and thrusts back in. You two hadn’t been able to have sex in a few weeks due to him being extremely busy and stressed. “ Me too” you whisper, pulling him in for a quick kiss, “i know you’ve been stressed lately, so take it out on me baby, destress, do what you need, i’m at your disposal” you say, looking into his eyes and brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you?” he says, as he buries his cock deep inside of you and stills. “You won’t hurt me baby I promise” you say, matty nods his head “if at any point it’s too much tell me ok?” he says, “ok” you respond back.

Mattys grip on your hips become tighter as he beens to quickly thrust in and out of you, you moan at the new pace, “lay back” he says, slowly pushing you down on the desk until you feel the cool wood on your back. Mattys pace quickens, eachtime hitting a new spot inside of you, which causes him to let out an almost pornographic moan, in your head you hope no one is near the lecture hall so they don’t hear you both.

Mattys hand slowly makes its way up from your hip, all the way up to your neck, your breath hitches at this new position. He looks down at you asking for permission, you nod your head back in response. Gently matty applies pressure to your neck, still holding your hip in one hand and never slowing his thrusts. “M’ close matty” you moan, the sensation of his hand around you neck and the fast speed of his thrusts becoming to much for you, that on top of already being sensitive from your first orgasm.

“Me too baby” he responds, you wrap your legs around his waist, causing him to hit just the right spot in you that has you seeing stars. You eyes close as the band snaps in your stomach, the familiar wave of euphoria washes over your body as you finish around his cock.

Mattys thrusts eventually become sloppy as he finishes inside of you, the feeling of his cum filling you up makes you feel warm inside. He moves the hand that was on your neck, to your cheek and cups it “Hey my sweet girl” he whispers, your eyes flutter open and you smile. “Hi matty” you whisper back, soon both his hands guide you to a sitting position, you slightly wince at the loss of contact as he slowly pulls out of you.

“Shit I don’t have a towel” he says, guilt flashing across his face as he sees both your and his release slowly pouring out of your core and running down your thighs. “Its ok, just hand me my clothes and I’ll go to the bathroom and clean up” you say, as you get off the desk, legs almost collapsing as you do so, this causes matty to grab your side and stablize you so you don’t fall.

He carefully hands you your clothes and helps you get redressed, after helping you he quickly fixes himself up. “Here i’ll go with you” he offers, quickly picking you up bridal style and walking up the stairs and out into the hallway, “Matty what if someone sees” you ask, nervously darting your head back and forth, checking the halls. “There’s no one here, since the next class isn’t for another 45 minutes” he reasures you as he walks to the bathroom.

“You know I can walk Healy” you giggle as he places you down on the counter. “You’re my princess and I shall treat you like one” he says, carefully grabbing a handful of paper towels and weting them, your heart flutters at his comment. “I’m sorry they’re paper towels, but i promise once we get you cleaned up we can go back to my place and I’ll run you a bath, sound good?” he says, you nod your head in response. Matty gently begins to clean you up, being extra careful since the material of the towels is rough. “All cleaned baby” he smiles, quickly throwing the used towels in the toilet and flushing it, making sure not to leave a trace.

“Matty” you say as the two of you walk back to retrieve your stuff. “Yes my love” he says, “You know no guy has ever treated me the way you do, I’m just feel so lucky to call you mine” you say as you pull him into a kiss. Matty smiles “I feel insanely lucky that I get to call you mine, you’re very special to me y/n and I hope you know i don’t intend on ever letting you go” he chuckles, before kissing you again. “The future only sounds good if I get to spend it with you” you say, “I agree” he responds back

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 10 - Dutch x Reader

This is it, angels! The last chapter of the Mr Van der Linde mini-fic. This has been an absolute joy to write, thank you for allowing me to indulge in my fantasy and for being the most wonderful group of enablers a writer could ever ask for. The response to this story has been much more than I expected, and I’ve had the best time sharing it with you. Thank you endlessly for your support and hype <3

It's on ao3, if you'd rather read there!

Summary: You deal with the consequences of your actions.

Word count: 9,037

Content warnings: smoking, drug use

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

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You’d blocked Dutch’s number. It was the only thing left to do.  

It was the first action you took upon getting on that train. You knew that if you heard his voice or read a single word from him, you’d cave.

The level of agony you felt was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Your heart was broken, so much so that you were surprised the thing was still able to beat. All of a sudden, two of the most important people in your life were strangers. The man you loved, and your best friend.  

God, you missed them.  

You missed John’s laugh down the phone, or the way his eyes grew heavy after he’d had one too many drinks. You missed the way he’d snuggle into you while hungover or come and see you just so you could sit in a comfortable silence together. He was about to become a father, and there you went piling more stress onto his already heavy load.  

It didn’t bear thinking about how much you missed Dutch. It was too painful to even list the things you loved the most about him, that you knew you’d never get to experience again.  

It was a miracle that your other friends were still speaking to you. The boys had been quiet, siding more so with John but not quite willing to cut you out completely. The girls still got in touch with you regularly, and you weren’t sure what you’d do with yourself if they didn’t.  

Abigail updated you on her pregnancy over the next few weeks, and it was like a knife to the chest at the realisation that you wouldn’t even be able to meet her baby, at least not for a long time.  

She and Karen had been distraught when you announced the news that you weren’t going to attend graduation, but you’d thought it through for long enough. Everyone would be there, family members included. You daren’t even think about how awkward the whole affair would be. Not going was the most sensible thing you could do, and being sensible was at the top of your current list of priorities.  

You’d received a call a week after the party from the job you interviewed for and were offered a place. Without the ability to share the news with those you wanted to hear it most, it’d only made you more depressed.  

It’d taken you a few days to type out the message to John. You started off by saying you were only going to try getting in touch with him this once since you couldn’t bring yourself to ask for his forgiveness; you knew it wasn’t something you deserved. Then, you’d explained how it happened. Sparing him the details, of course, you ran through the timeline of your and Dutch's relationship and gave him the full truth. It felt false and cliché when you started talking about how you hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it was true. To a point. You’d finished off by saying that you would always be there for him, should he ever decide he wanted to interact with you again. Then you clarified that you’d never expect him to and offered him one final apology.  

He’d read it not long after, and you were already prepared for him not to reply, so it wasn’t too much of a bluster when it went unanswered. There was a small, naïve part of you that clung to the possibility that he could, though.  

Graduation was one week away. You wanted it over with, even though you weren’t going, and had planned to take a social media break while everyone posted their smiling photos with relatives and friends.   

Curled up in bed, hiding from the world under your duvet was your most recent pastime as of late, you huffed and shut the book you weren’t able to read. Ever since that day at the Van der Linde’s, you had an awful tension headache that wouldn’t shift no matter what you did. So instead, you shut your eyes, hoping you’d fall into a nap to pass the time.  

After a few minutes, your phone began vibrating and with a tired grunt, you leaned over, becoming instantly more alert at the name that was on your screen.  

John.  

You held the phone in your hands like it would explode if you moved it too harshly, staring at the screen until the call rang out and the vibrating stopped.  

It had to have been an accident. You didn’t want to deal with the awkward scenario of picking up, to be faced with a spluttering John explaining it was a mistake. Then your phone buzzed again, this time with a message.  

Call me when you’re free.  

It was the longest you’d gone without breathing, your body forgetting its most basic survival instinct and going into complete shock. He was finally ready to yell at you, to call you all the names under the sun and explain how badly he wished he’d never met you. You wanted to throw the whole phone away, but he deserved the chance to have a go at you if it’s what he wanted, and you took a deep breath before pressing the call button by his name.  

Time had never moved as slowly as it had during the three rings that elapsed before they stopped, and then John spoke through the phone.  

“Hey.”  

Hearing his voice was enough to make you tear up, but you cleared your throat and willing yourself to remain steady. “Hi.”  

John sighed, and you could only imagine how nauseating it was for him to have to interact with you. “Abigail said you’re not coming to graduation.”  

“No, I’m not.”  

He sighed again, finding his words. “That don’t seem fair.”  

Your eyebrows pulled together, unable to make sense of where this conversation was going. “I don’t reckon I deserve fair,” you said, immediately hearing how self-pitying you sounded. “It’s fine, I don’t want to go anyway.”  

“We both know that’s not true.”  

“It doesn’t matter.” After a beat of silence, your emotions got the better of you. “John, I’m so sorry -”  

“Don’t.” He was stern but softened his voice for his next sentence. “I know we need to talk, but not like this.”  

Unsure what to say, you decided to allow John some room to speak further.  

“Come to graduation. We’re all staying at the house the night before,” you knew that already, just because you didn’t respond in the group chat didn’t mean you weren’t reading the messages, “before we have to pack up and leave.”  

The mere thought of being there with everyone, seeing them all with their families and then seeing Dutch too was enough to send your brain into overdrive. “I can’t.”  

“It won’t be the same without you.”  

You pressed your lips together, hoping to keep your composure just a little while longer. “John, I’m confused. Aren’t you mad at me? Don’t you hate me?”  

“Yes. Mad at you, I mean. I don’t hate you though. Trust me, I tried to,” he sounded reluctant to admit to it. “I’ve had time to think. And I know I’ll regret it if I know I didn’t at least try to get you to come.”  

“You know, I think I’d prefer it if you yelled at me.”  

John laughed mirthlessly. “Part of me wants to, but... it won’t do no good.”  

The silence hung between you, and despite all the things you wanted to say to him, you couldn’t find a single word.  

“Look,” he began. “You still mean a lot to me. You worked hard on this degree and truthfully... I wouldn’t have got mine if it weren’t for you. I want you there with me.”  

You choked, because you didn’t deserve him being so kind and he repeated your name for you to just nod, even though he obviously couldn’t see you. “Sorry,” you whispered, and while it was an apology for your lack of response, you used it as a chance to let out some of the apology hoard you had stored up.  

“Just come, alright? You can leave early if you want. Besides, the others want to see you too.”  

After a shaky breath, you decided it was worth a shot. Even if you went to the house the night before and didn’t attend the ceremony, it was worth a try. You said you’d try to rectify it if you could, and this could be the chance to take the first few steps towards that goal. “Alright. I’ll come.”  

Some of the tension dissipated through the phone, and you waited for John’s response. “Okay. See you next week.”  

Then he hung up.  

After the call ended, your phone navigated to the most recently used app, and you were met with your recent search history, mainly along the lines of can a person run out of tears and is anyone close to inventing time travel yet.  

Had that just happened? You checked the call logs to confirm that yes, it had. John had called you. He hadn’t yelled at you. He hadn’t so much as berated you. He said you meant a lot to him. He said he wanted to talk to you and see you at graduation.  

Holy shit. Your apprehension about not going was immeasurable compared with your apprehension about actually going.  

-

The entire train journey back to university had been spent with you fidgeting, your mind going a million miles an hour at the prospect of what you were about to face.   Karen and Abigail were overjoyed you’d agreed to come, and you had a sneaky suspicion Abigail had played a part in convincing John to get in touch with you, even if she wouldn’t admit it.  

Instead of taking a bus to your rented house like you usually would, you decided to take the walk to stretch your legs, get some fresh air, and prepare yourself for whatever greeted you when you got there.  

But when you did, it still wasn’t enough time. Panic seeped into your veins and your breaths grew short, so you took a seat on the half-wall that acted as a border around your poor excuse for a front garden.   No matter what, you couldn’t still your hands, and reluctantly pulled a cigarette out of the pack that resided in your pocket. You lit it, and once you were halfway done, you heard the front door open behind you.  

You daren’t look around, not wanting to face whoever had caught you wallowing in your guilt.  

But the door clicked shut, and footsteps down the front path preluded John taking a seat beside you.   

“I thought you only smoked casually.”  

“It helps,” you flicked the ash away, not meeting John’s face. “A little.”  

“I see.”  

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor with not a single clue on how to have this conversation.   

“How long you plan on sitting out here?” John asked.  

“Not sure,” you mumbled.  

“You know you can’t stay here forever.”  

After a short nod, you plucked up the courage to shift your gaze from the floor and to John. Your dismal state must’ve shown on your face, as he looked at you pitifully. “It's so fucked up,” you began, the tension needling under your skin. “I know it is, I’m so sorry. Sorrier than I know how to express.”   

“I believe you.”  

Why must he be so calm? Where was the John you knew, the one who’d pick a fight at the first opportunity – the one who’d slammed the door open when he’d caught you in the act? “Just yell at me or something, please. I can’t take it.”  

“Don’t rightly think I can, you looking all forlorn as you are,” he hummed, drumming his fingertips on the wall.  

Your face was already a permanent frown, but you felt it deepen. All you wanted to do was cry, even if that was the only thing you’d done over the past few weeks. It seemed a person couldn’t run out of tears, after all.  

John edged closer, and you immediately shook your head. “No, don’t comfort me, I don’t deserve it.”  

“You always do beat yourself up over stuff,” he scoffed gently.  

“No, John. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”  

“You don’t gotta keep saying that.”  

“I don’t know what else I can say.”  

He let out a short breath, stretching his neck out. “I do have one question for you.”  

Your nod in response was almost eager, willing to answer anything he asked.  

“Would you take it back if you could?  

“I –” you stopped to take a breath. “Yeah, of course.”  

“Funny.”  

“Why funny?”  

“Dad said he wouldn’t. And he said that’s what he was the sorriest about, that he’d do it all again given the chance.”  

You weren’t sure what to say, your heart clutching to hear such a thing but not wanting to show it on your face. You’d wondered how he’d taken the whole thing, the urge to ask Abigail had been strong but you knew you wouldn’t have been able to bear the answer either way. It didn't bear thinking about how much you missed him.  

“I have another question.”  

“Shoot.”  

“More of a clarification.”  

“Okay.”  

“You really are in love with each other, aren’t you?”  

You swallowed, shaking your head to look at your lap but you weren’t saying no, and John knew that. “It’s... I...” you sighed, having no more lies left in you. You met John’s concerned gaze.  

“It's okay,” he reassured stiffly.  

“No, it’s not okay. Nothing about it is okay. You mean the world to me,” you pressed your lips together to stop them from quivering as tears gathered in your eyes once more. “None of it matters now,” you added dejectedly.  

John shifted beside you, finally taking his gaze away and instead planting it somewhere ahead of him. “I think it does.”  

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly.  

“He’s been... Well, he’s not been good. He’s sorry, to me, but mainly he’s... Heartbroken, I guess. He’s been so happy recently, we’ve all noticed it, and now he’s just... Not.”  

It pained you to hear how hurt he was. Knowing you were the cause of his pain, denying him even a single word turned your stomach even more. “Oh, I’m... Sorry.”  

John sighed. “I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy. That’s what means the most to me.”  

“I’m sure we’ll both be fine, eventually. Like I said, it’s not important how either of us feel. We did an awful fucking thing, and I guess we both deserve to feel like shit.”  

“That’s just it,” John paused as you stubbed out your cig with your foot, “maybe being happy is what you deserve.”  

You glanced at him, trepidation and anxiety set into his features. He looked so much older, somehow.  

“I’m not saying I’ve forgiven you. Certainly ain’t forgiven him. I’m not saying I’m your biggest fan right now, either. But I just need a bit of time to get used to it. It ain’t worth losing you,” he said pointedly. “You know what my momma said to me, before she passed?”   John seldom spoke of his mother, and your ears perked up at the privilege of being his audience. “She said one day, he was gonna love someone again. Said she knew it was hard to hear, hard to imagine him moving on, but that he wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t have someone to love. He loves love. Just the way he is. She also said it’d take him a good long while, and it did – I ain’t never seen him in a relationship since her. In her eyes, that meant that when he finally did move on, it would be with someone I could trust. She told me when the time came, to trust him. And to trust that the person he chose would be someone who cared for me, someone I could rely on.”  

Your eyes were brimming by that point, but you didn’t want to do him the disservice of looking away while he was being so raw.   

“She was right,” John shrugged.  

“You really look at what I’ve done,” you said hoarsely, fighting away a sob, “as the action of someone who cares for you? John, if I cared about you I would never have even let the thought cross my mind.”  

“Alright,” he nodded, a challenge, “what about everything else you’ve done in the last few years?”  

You blinked at him.  

“What about when you set me up with Abigail? What about when you convinced me to carry on at uni, even though I wanted to drop out? What about all the times you’ve looked after me when I was too drunk to see? What about all those deep chats we had late at night? What about when Abigail said she was keeping the baby, and you stayed up with me half the night until I finally slept?”  

You didn’t have a response for him.  

“I can’t forget all of that,” he said evenly, “even if right now I am mad at you. I know you, I know that you didn’t intend to hurt me with any of this.”  

“When did you get so grown up?” your face scrunched, John’s words a soothing balm over your open wounds.  

“Can’t expect my kid to turn out alright if I’m still acting like one.”  

“Makes sense.”  

“I’m not saying it won’t be weird, but... I can learn to deal with it.”  

You looked at him with mild incredulity, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. “You can’t be serious.”  

“I am.”  

Again, your eyes filled up and you couldn’t stop the tears, holding your fingertips under your eyes to catch them.  

John shuffled closer once again and hesitated, but then put his arm around your shoulders, and you didn’t have it in you to resist nestling into his embrace. “Goddamnit woman,” he scoffed, his voice lighter and more familiar, “will you quit crying already?”  

“Can’t help it,” you sniffed.  

John rested his head on top of yours and you squeezed your eyes shut, wondering what you did to deserve such a wonderful friend.  

After a time, when your tears had dried and your breathing regulated, the two of you ventured inside and were greeted with the sight of your four other friends lazing around in the living room.  

You looked at them sheepishly, but they smiled in response, seemingly relieved to see you and John on the way to being on good terms.  

At first, it was uncomfortable. The situation was somewhat of an elephant in the room, but it didn’t seem like anyone was up for bringing up the topic. These were your final days altogether, the last remaining part of your lives that made you students. After this, while you’d remain friends, you’d never be living together all under the same roof again. You didn’t need another excuse to cry, so you didn’t spend any more time chasing that train of thought.  

Eventually, the conversation flowed easier, and it was almost like you were existing in a time months ago, where you hadn’t made any terrible choices and your friends hadn’t found out about them.  

“Still can’t believe we’re meeting your infamous da,” Abigail mocked Sean, who grinned back at her.  

“Oh, he’s excited to meet the lot of you, too. I assured him you weren’t all a pompous bunch.”  

“My dad’s coming too. Hey,” Javier pointed at you, “make sure you don’t fuck him.”  

You glared at Javier, but at the snorts of laughter around the room you couldn’t help but break into a reluctantly amused smirk. “I have no intention of doing such a thing.”  

“Did you have the intention to fuck Mr Van der Linde?”  

“Can we not.”  

Thankfully, even John was laughing, and while you thought the subject was still too tender to poke fun at, you agreed that this may be the easy way of getting it out in the open.  

“Hey,” John said, “part of the deal with you fucking my dad is that we’re allowed to tease you for it.”  

You shrunk into your seat. “I was not aware of that condition.”   

“No? Would you like my permission to be revoked?”  

You huffed, thoroughly left without a leg to stand on. “No. Fine.”  

Denying John the right to hold this over you, likely for the rest of your life, wasn’t something you could do. If he had to pick on you and tease you, then you’d allow it, so long as it meant the two of you could remain friends.  

The six of you settled into a familiar rhythm, laughing and joking until you were all too tired to continue.  

-

When morning came around and you and the girls began getting ready together, your heart tugged at just how much you valued your sisterhood with them. Despite it all, they’d remained your friends, checked up on you, and attempted to provide a sense of normalcy in your life.  

“Are you nervous?” Abigail spoke into the concentrated silence, all three of you working on your makeup.  

You glanced in your propped-up mirror to see her reflection behind you, awaiting a response. “I assume you’re not talking about walking across the stage.”  

She shook her head in the negative.   Given the past few weeks, you’d had enough practice banishing thoughts of Dutch from your mind that you’d grown rather good at it. That had included today, where you’d disallowed yourself to picture the ways your reunion could play out.   

“I suppose I am a little.”  

“Surely you’re excited, though?” Karen added on, sounding rather excited herself.  

“Why would I be?”  

“Well,” she drawled, “you clearly love the man. Ain’t there a part of you eager to be all lovey-dovey with him again?”  

You turned to frown at her face-on, instead of through the reflection in your mirror. “What? No - I’m not going to carry on seeing him.”  

They observed you, puzzled, and Abigail decided on a response.   “But I thought that was what you agreed on, with John?”  

“He said he’d find a way to deal with it. He shouldn’t have to do that,” you turned back to your mirror and continued preening. “I’m not going to start things up with Dutch again,” you lamented.  

They didn’t question it, but you could feel their confusion in the air. You couldn’t blame them. They decided not to probe the subject further.  

Sure, John had said he’d deal with it. He’d said he wanted you both to be happy. But before all that, you vowed to yourself that you’d do anything to have a friendship with him, and would you really be true to your word if you actively extended his discomfort?  

John’s blessing had been music to your ears at first. But being so forgiving was easier said than done – who's to say he wouldn’t grow to resent you, the damage to your friendship being irreparable? It wasn’t a risk you could take.  

-

Thankfully, the ceremony was the first thing on the agenda that day. There were no awkward encounters to be had, and you got to walk across the stage without falling over and receive your degree in relative peace. Again, you’d actively pushed the prospect of seeing Dutch again out of your mind until you were forced to deal with it in real-time.  

But once the ceremony was finished, it was time for everyone to socialise in the sunny courtyard while the graduates took photos with their family and friends, leaving nowhere left for you to hide. Unless...  

Thanks to your newfound habit, you excused yourself once the six of you had taken a group picture, proof that you had in fact been there, and had at least waited a few minutes before running away.  

There was a quiet alley round the side of the main building, the wall of which you leaned up against and brought your newly lit cigarette to your lips. It was nice to decompress, and with all that’d happened in the last twenty-four hours alone, it was nice to have some peace.  

You took your time, eventually lighting a second cigarette and deciding this would not be a healthy habit to keep up.  

“When did you start smoking?”  

That cigarette was nearly choked into your mouth at the baritone of Dutch’s voice, one you hadn’t heard in a longer while than you cared to admit.  

You had to face him at some point, you supposed. At least this wasn’t in front of a whole group of people.  

Slowly, you turned, the man himself coming into view. His hands were casually in his pockets, and as always, his suit was immaculate, and hair perfectly styled. There was one noticeable difference though; he looked tired.  

“Gives me an excuse to escape. Plus,” you shunted the cigarette up a bit, “I miss the taste.” You looked at his lips, the hundreds of drunken kisses the two of you had shared that always had an underlying hint of tobacco. Dutch brushed his fingertips over your hand, and you pulled away, refusing to meet his gaze.   

“Please, I can’t.”  

“Didn’t John speak to you?”  

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not okay with it, regardless of what he says.”  

Dutch’s shoulders dropped, and he leaned on the wall opposite you. His gaze was fixed on you, and you eventually met it.  

The two of you looked at each other for a short while, and it was like you could read his mind, and tell him what you were thinking and feeling without saying a single word.  

You missed him, you were sorry, he missed you, he was sorry.  

More than anything, you wanted to wrap your arms around him and never let go, kiss him until your lips ached, and make a home in the crook of his neck.  

“You blocked my number.” It wasn’t a question.  

“I had to,” you took a drag and rolled the cigarette between your fingers once you’d dropped your hand back by your side.  

“Did you really? You couldn’t have at least said goodbye – after all we’ve been through?”  

“Don’t make me feel bad,” your tone came out angered, and you swiftly reeled yourself in. “I couldn’t feel any worse about the whole thing if I tried. There was no other choice, not if I wanted a chance at earning back John’s friendship.”  

“The way I hear it, the two of you are already getting on.”  

“He’s being kind. Kinder than I deserve and we’re a long way off repairing our friendship.”  

Dutch nodded, and it hurt to see the pain that’d made camp on his face.  

“How are things with the two of you?”  

“Long way off,” he echoed. “He didn’t speak to me for a while, but he’s starting to be civil. I’m surprised by him, truth be told.”  

“Why?”  

“He’s been real grown up about it all,” his lips twitched with an unmitigated fondness, “we talked it all out, and he actually listened to my side of it. That’s two of my boys out-manning me, now.”  

“Is Arthur okay?” you asked at the mention of him.  

“Yeah,” he said noncommittally, “not happy with me either, but can’t say I blame him. Especially not after the Molly business.”  

“I did try telling him you weren’t to blame.”  

“I know.” The look he gave you was grateful, and you couldn’t only imagine the grief he’d received from the two men.  

It was surreal to see him standing there. You wondered if you’d even remember this conversation in a week's time, or whether it’d be some lucid recollection you wouldn’t be able to pick out words from.   

“Did you hear back about that interview?”  

You nodded. “They offered me a job.”  

Despite his saddened expression, a glint of pride broke its way through. “Congrats. You’ll do well there, should you decide to take it.”  

“Thanks.” It wasn’t quite the reaction you’d pictured in your mind before all this nasty business, instead, it’d be Dutch pulling you into a boisterous embrace and immediately coming up with a schedule to ensure the two of you saw each other regularly enough.  

His pained eyes glanced down your form and made their way back up to your face. The crease between his brows was permanently etched there now, it seemed.  

“I’m sorry they found out that way,” he said.  

“Me too. I don’t blame you for it.”  

“Please,” he took a hesitant step towards you. “Reconsider. Is it not worth us trying, at least? John’s okay with it -”  

“He is not. He’s only saying that because he feels obliged.”  

“That’s not true, he came to me to talk about it, said he wants us to be together -”  

“Do you not hear how insane that sounds? Why would he want his father and b- friend to be in a relationship?”  

“Sorry to interrupt,” John’s voice broke into your conversation as he strolled over to the pair of you, “but my ears were burning.”  

You both just looked at him, simmering back into your own spaces – it wasn’t a conscious decision to edge closer to Dutch.  

“You’re arguing,” he observed.  

“I -” you sighed, itching your brow, and abandoned your unformed sentence in favour of another drag from your cigarette.  

“This is meant to be a happy day,” Dutch said guiltily.  

“No, I know. I think I should go –”  

“No,” John put a hand on each of your shoulders, stopping you from walking away from the situation. “Look, I’ll be honest, I’m tired of him moping,” he gestured his head towards his father.  

Dutch slipped the cigarette from between your fingers and brought it to his mouth for a long drag. It was like static where his skin had brushed against yours, and your eyes lingered on his lips as he took a drag. He went to hand it back to you, but you shook your head.  

“Keep it.”  

“And I’m tired of you being so hard on yourself,” he narrowed his eyes at you, before looking between you both once more. “You shouldn’t have done what you did. You shouldn’t have gone behind my back for so long.”  

The pair of you glanced at each other, scolded but in agreement with him.  

“But I understand why you did. For the pair of you to do this, to take it this far – it must be something genuine.”  

More genuine than you cared to admit. Being without Dutch was like being without a limb.  

“You deserve the chance to test it out in the open. Ideally,” he huffed in mild amusement, “not too open. I don’t wanna watch you canoodling. But still. You do have my blessing,” he squeezed your shoulder, “and I’m not just saying that. I’ve thought about it, and I mean it.”  

There were no words, so you rested your hand over John’s that was still planted on his shoulder.   

“Thank you, son,” Dutch said, his voice cracking despite his hardened demeanour.  

“Now,” John lightened his tone and the mood, “from what I hear they’re about to open the bar. And I don’t know about either of you but I sure as hell need a drink.”  

“I sure do,” you agreed quietly, and Dutch beckoned for the two of you to proceed, and you all made your way over to the bar.  

-

After John’s talk, you began to settle into the idea of trying again with Dutch. You were still hesitant, but since Dutch had reminded you to unblock his number, he’d messaged you regularly and gently brought you around to the idea.  

So, you’d started talking more frequently, general chitchat and while it wasn’t quite the same, you found yourself valuing his conversation much more than you had previously. Still, you were hesitant to visit him, but Dutch agreed to ease back into the relationship, and going long periods without seeing him wasn’t an alien concept to you considering that’d been the norm for over two years.  

It was only a few more weeks until John messaged the group chat saying Abigail had gone into labour, and he’d sent you a private message saying it might be a good time for you to go to his house, considering nobody would be there and you could have some alone time together.  

Dutch too had messaged you, and you allowed your chest to grow warm at the thought of them colluding to convince you to come round. He’d confirmed the house was empty save for him, Tilly spending half of her summer staying at Arthur and Charles’ place.  

You decided to bite the bullet and agreed, getting the train that same day before you had a chance to chicken out. Unsurprisingly, Dutch stood firm in his decision to pick you up from the station.  

The car journey to his house had been quiet, the two of you not knowing where you stood or how to approach the situation. Arriving at his house and seeing the big stone driveway was enough to make your heartbeat quicken, the memory of your last visit resurfacing.   

Dutch had made you a hot drink, and the two of you were sat outside in the late evening summer sun, thankful for the chirping birds that filled the silence.   

“If you’re uncomfortable, please tell me. I’ll take you home, and I won’t be offended,” he said gently.  

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you settled him, “it’s just a little strange as all. Didn't think I'd ever be here again.”  

After a long sigh, Dutch shifted in his seat, angling himself towards you as though he had a secret he wanted only you to hear. “I have a plan.”  

You raised your eyebrows at him. “A plan for what?”  

“Making you a little more comfortable.”  

“Let’s hear it.”  

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt.  

You couldn’t resist laughing, looking at him in shock. “You want to get high?”  

“Why not?”  

“Because,” you began, though no reason came to mind why you shouldn’t. “Because - is that a good idea?”  

“Course. Might help us loosen up a little.” His charming smile made you feel all fuzzy – his under eyes were less dark than when you’d seen him last and he looked overall more like himself. He was dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, and you were appreciative of the delightful view of those hairy forearms of his.  

“I didn’t even know you got high.”  

“Where do you think John gets it?”  

“You sell drugs?” your face shifted from shocked to understanding, “no wonder you’re so rich.”  

“I do not sell drugs.”  

“No. Just to your son?”  

“No, I don’t want him buying overpriced shit from some sketchy dealer. If he’s going to do drugs, he’s going to at least do good drugs. Besides, I don’t support the criminalisation of it.”  

“Right,” you laughed, not wanting to spur him onto his well-worn soap box. “Well then,” you plucked it from his fingers to rest it between your teeth and reached into his pocket where you knew he kept his lighter, relishing in the tensing of his thighs, and flicked it on to light the end of the joint. “Let us not waste any time.”  

You blew out the smoke and handed it to him, his face looking close to boyish with his grin in response. “I like your attitude.” Dutch took an inhale of his own, and either you really did have a thing for guys when they smoked or this was some strong stuff, because you began to feel all tingly.  

Relaxing back on the bench, you took in the view of the garden and tipped your head back, allowing the sun to graze over your face. “I have missed being here.”  

“I’ve missed having you here,” Dutch said, and you cracked an eye open at him, to see him observing you fondly. “I’m glad, in a way.”  

“About what?”  

“It happening the way it did.”  

“Why?”  

“We don’t have to hide it any longer,” he rested his arm on the bench behind you, “the sneaking around was growing tiresome.”  

“I suppose,” you took the blunt from him and brought it to your lips. “Still, not sure I’ll ever recover from that look on John’s face.”  

“Let’s not go back there right now. I’ve spent too much time in that space recently.”  

You handed the joint back to him thoughtfully. “Has your mental health been okay?”  

Dutch chuckled knowingly. “It has not. Thankfully, I’ve learnt to recognise the unhealthy thought patterns, and I was on a higher dose of medication for a while.”  

“You’re not now?”  

“No,” he shook his head, blowing out the smoke. “After John’s talk, after I could speak to you again – it all calmed down.”  

“I see. I’m sorry you were suffering.”  

“That’s alright,” he shrugged, passing the joint over to you. Dutch was going to say something else when your phone buzzed, and you pulled it from your pocket, expression brightening at what greeted you on the screen.  

“Congratulations are in order,” you tilted the screen towards him, and he looked over your shoulder at the photo of a baby clutched in Abigail’s arms with John leaning over, a tired grin on his face.  

Dutch’s face softened into excitement, and he took his reading glasses from his pocket to place them on his face and get a better look. “Oh my, look at that.”  

Another photo came through, a close-up of the baby accompanied by a message from John sent to the group chat.  

Jack’s here. Abigail had a tough delivery, but she was great, and we now officially have a healthy son. Can’t wait for you all to meet him.  

Very to the point, and very on-brand for John. “Jack,” you crooned, “that’s lovely.”  

Dutch patted his pocket, scoffing. “My phone’s in the kitchen, let me go text him.”  

“You remember the weed, but not your phone while your grandson is being born?”  

“Oh hush,” he muttered as he walked into the house.  

He returned a few minutes later, while you’d messaged your congratulations along with the rest of your friends.  

“How’s it feel to be a grandfather?”  

“Good, oddly enough,” Dutch settled beside you, noticeably closer than he had been previously, but you didn’t mind. He took the joint from you and had a couple of drags.  

“He’s gorgeous,” you smiled, and the two of you settled into a rhythm of smoking and chatting while the sun bathed you in its rays.   

It was a lovely evening, and it wasn’t long before the joint was burnt out and you’d slowly slipped to be nestled into Dutch’s side, his head resting on yours and fingertips running over your palm.   The two of you remained like that, fully relaxed and happy just to be near each other, the odd shift in position the only thing to break the peaceful silence.  

The movement of Dutch’s fingers had transmuted to the brushing of his palm up your arm, and you tilted your head to look at him. His hands felt so good, so firm and warm, his rings leaving a cool trail in their wake.  

He glanced down at you, face content, and you couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous he was.  

“I’m hungry.”  

“I can order -”  

You cupped his jaw and attached your lips to his, not sure you could wait a single moment longer. The two of you still hadn’t shared a kiss since you’d arrived, and the weeks of longing to have his lips on yours had been agonising.   

“Oh,” he said once you’d pulled away.   

You laughed softly, edging closer despite already being pressed up against him. His eyes had already grown hungry too, and you realised you weren’t hungry at all. You were ravenous.  

The two of you demanded the next kiss at the same time, one not nearly enough to make up for all those you’d missed out on. He gripped your waist, and you twisted your hand into the collar of his shirt, the two of you not willing to part with the taste of each other's mouths.   

“Darlin’,” he breathed when you both finally surfaced for air, and you touched the tip of your nose to his. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed that.”  

“Believe me,” you pecked the corner of his mouth, “I do.”  

He ran a hand over your hair and tilted his head when your expression turned devious. “Do I even want to ask?”  

You shook your head and stood, leaving him still leaning forward where your body was now absent. “I’d rather show.”  

With that you walked into the house, Dutch’s rushed and uneven footsteps soon following behind.  

“What are we doing?” he said, excited, as you led him towards the study.  

Once there, you sat on his desk and parted your legs. “I believe we have some unfinished business.”  

“Oh,” he smirked and stopped in his tracks, running a hand through his hair and visibly less rigid thanks to the herbs in his system.   

His eyes were fixed on the spot between your thighs as he stalked towards you, reaching his hands out and gripping your thighs once he was close enough, pulling them even further apart and growling from his chest as he nestled his crotch between them. You bit down on your lip when you felt how hard he was, becoming acutely aware of how much wetter you were than usual, likely a mix of your heightened senses and the given circumstance.  

“I do admire your thoroughness, miss,” he murmured into your ear, trailing his lips over your lobe and down your neck.  

You sighed weakly into the air and let your eyes fall shut, thighs attempting to tighten around him, but his grip was like iron as he kept your thighs in place. Then his lips were gone, and you opened your eyes to see that he was too. You looked down to find him knelt between your legs. “Thirsty?” you teased, and he grinned up at you, black pupils taking up almost all of his iris’.   

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he pushed the material of the dress up your legs and nuzzled his nose into your mound. “I do love you in a summer dress,” he murmured, and you could feel the vibrations from his baritone.  

Dutch chuckled at your feeble attempt of pushing your hips closer to him, not relenting with his grip.   

“Don’t worry sweet girl, I don’t have it in me to tease you right now.”  

There was no time to answer before his mouth was on you, pressing over the wet material of your underwear. Dutch licked up your slit, tangling his tongue with the fabric and you whined, placing your hands behind you on the cool wood of his desk.   

“That’s it,” he said, taking your underwear between his teeth to move it to the side, “let me hear you.”  

You glanced down at him, the infatuation plain on his face as he stared at your dripping pussy. “What happened to not teasing me?”  

“This is not teasing. Do you want to see teasing?”  

“Dutch,” you warned, and he could hear the seriousness filter through your playful tone.  

“Not tonight,” he decided, and dived right into his favourite meal.  

Dutch kissed and sucked your skin, the responsiveness of your pussy providing him with more hydration than he could manage to take in, but he appeared up for the challenge. Gentle flicks of his tongue over your clit turned into a deep drag of it over your inner walls and you gasped his name repeatedly as he thoroughly lavished you with his tongue.  

Your ecstatic orgasm came around fast, and you were sure you didn’t breathe for a minute straight as he drank up all you could give him. His hands had you trapped in place so you were powerless to buck your hips and instead had to let it all go right there, and Dutch was panting when he removed his mouth from you.  

“Du -”  

He pulled you into a kiss by the back of your neck, using his other hand to undo his jeans and shuck them down far enough to pull out his cock and ease into your accommodating cunt.  

“Good lord,” he groaned, unable to focus on kissing you as your walls tensed, begging for his cock to never leave the home it found itself nestled in. “I never,” he gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger once he’d pulled himself together, “want to go so long without your pussy again.”  

“Deal,” you kissed him, spotting the small window of opportunity while he was distracted to pull your legs from his grip and wrap them around his hips, coaxing him even further in and he let out a pained whimper.   

His hands grabbed the swell of either side of your ass, experimentally offering a few slight thrusts, but the sensation was enough to drive you wild. His thick cock felt perfect, and you mused whether that was the extra limb you’d been missing all this time.    

The small thrusts turned to longer, languid ones that had you whining, Dutch obsessive with the way he clung to your body and began fucking you stupid.  

Nothing else mattered aside from the euphoric pleasure racing through your body, being drilled into and marked by Dutch in what you assumed was every way he could think of. Nips to your collarbones, fingertips digging into your flesh, pussy fucked so deeply the skin felt raw. You didn’t care. The two of you were together again, and as was always the case when you fell into each other’s arms, the world was right again.  

“Shit,” Dutch grunted, blinking his eyes tightly as he watched himself disappear into you at a reckless pace, now not the time for tender loving. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing your nose against his neck and breathing in the sheen of sweat on his skin. He was being greedy, his brain chasing one thing, the only thing that mattered at that moment. “It’s like you were made for me,” he began to babble to himself, and you knew he was close, so you held your own approaching orgasm until he was ready, “you’re so perfect, s-so fucking -”  

Even words began to fail him as your body overtook every one of his thoughts, and that was a sentiment you shared as he fucked you deep and you cried out Dutch, because what other words were there?  

He came hard, leaking into you as he pressed his hips forward, the desk jolting with the motion and you allowed your release to finally come too. His hands searched for an anchor, landing on the small of your back as he held you to him until he was completely empty.  

The air around the two of you hummed, your bodies becoming soft and pliant at the familiar comfort of having your arms wrapped around each other. Eventually, each of you inched away to get a good look at the other.  

Dutch’s eyelids were heavy, lips still shining with the remnants of you, and his hair had fallen around his face. He took in the view of you too and relaxed into a content smile, leaning forward to press his lips to yours, a tender act considering how hard he’d just defiled you. Neither of you had anything to say that would surmount the feelings you were experiencing in that moment.  

So, you remained silent, breathing in one another until you were finally ready to face him pulling out.  

As he tidied himself up, you leaned back on his desk and glanced to the side of his desk, noticing a picture frame. You took it in your hands and laughed minimally at the subject of the photo. “I can’t believe you have a picture of me here but not John.”  

Despite the situation, Dutch'd made sure you get a photo with you at your graduation, you not realising he’d intended for it to take pride of place on his (now tainted) desk.  

“I look better in this photo,” he said matter-of-factly. His expression softened when you raised your brows in questioning. “Or, perhaps you just make me look good.”  

You shook your head, for him to shrug himself of judgement and join you in admiring the photo after he’d planted a kiss on your forehead.  

It was true; you did look good together.  

-

You’d intended to only stay at Dutch’s for a few days but found yourself not wanting to leave his side. In the end, you’d gone home for a single night to grab more stuff and made your way back to him first thing the next morning.  

The day finally came when Abigail and John returned, and you watched them from the window as they made their way up the driveway, a carrier in hand. Dutch’d been fretting about the nursery – which the blue spare room had been turned into, and you were glad you hadn’t needed to part with ‘your’ room even if you did stay in Dutch’s - and whether it had everything it needed, despite already buying far too much stuff. Little Jack was surely going to be spoilt.   

While you were overjoyed to get to spend so much time with the baby, Abigail and John were also happy to have you and Dutch on hand to take over when they needed a break, you ended up returning home for a time after being there for a couple of weeks, the start date at your new job just around the corner.  

Since you spent the majority of your time working from home, it didn’t matter whether you stayed at your house or Dutch’s. Not wanting to rush too much into your relationship, or crowd the new family under the roof, you and Dutch agreed to a few nights a week at his place, then you'd spend the rest of it at yours. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t attempt to convince you to stay one extra night every time you had to leave, though.  

Being around John while staying with his father had been awkward at first. But soon, as with all change, it became the new normal. It was nice, really, having him and Abigail so close by. It hadn’t taken long for Jack to become your favourite member of the family.  

It was a few months down the line, and the Van der Linde house was full. John had worked through his nerves, but having family on hand, he’d begun taking fatherhood in his stride. He’d been grateful for you too, and you couldn’t deny that you were secretly pleased about having the advantage of the chance to be Jack’s favourite Auntie, aside from Tilly of course.  

You were all in the garden after Dutch’d done a small barbeque, you stood by the table bobbing little Jack in your arms. “I do love being an auntie,” you expressed to the group, infatuated with the baby’s gorgeous cheeks.  

Abigail turned to you; her face pensive. “Wouldn’t you be his step-grandma?”  

Not that you’d expected anything less, but even Abigail had taken to the now-popular hobby of teasing you. Somehow, even Dutch had gotten in on the action. He snickered, John’s laugh echoing from the kitchen (his selective hearing was truly a wonder) before he walked outside and gave Abigail a proud kiss on the head.   

“Isn’t your momma just the funniest?” you said down to Jack, after taking an offended pause.  

She grinned at you, and you couldn’t help but return the smile.  

Eventually, you’d parted with your nephew (no, he was not your step-grandson no matter what anyone said) and began taking the plates into the kitchen, loading them up into the dishwasher.   

Dutch seized the opportunity to pat your ass as you were bent down, and you scoffed at him. “Perv.”  

He laughed easily, bringing in the cutlery and loading it in himself. After you’d turned on the washing machine, you both took to watching the small family through the window, sitting on a mat on the grass and marvelling at Jack who’d recently learnt how to roll over.  

“Now that kid will be a genius,” hummed Dutch, and you tutted at him.  

“Will you leave the poor boy alone before you start locking him up with the books?”  

Dutch ran his hands around your waist, holding you comfortably from behind, his warm and inviting torso a perfect cushion for your back. “I’ve half a mind to lock you up.”  

“Oh, I’m sorry – do I not allocate enough time to you?” you quipped, and he chuckled into your hair.  

“Not nearly enough to satiate me.”  

You tsked through your teeth, resting your hands on top of his.  

“I’m serious,” he added, and you glanced round to catch his eye.  

“Oh, come on, what now?”  

“I’ve been thinking...”  

“I’ve learnt to view that sentence as a warning.”  

Dutch’s eyes crinkled with his amusement, and he placed a kiss on your temple. “All I’m saying is I would love to have you here permanently. I say it not as a demand, not for something to do right now, but something to let brew in that wonderful mind of yours.”  

“And you say I’m the one always jumping to the next step,” you kissed him sweetly, and he tightened his hold around you as you looked back out the window.  

“It’s a mere suggestion, darlin’. Something for you to ponder when you find yourself bored.”  

All you could do was smirk, this irrevocably charming man always willing to prove his need to have, which you’d deduced was just another name for a more potent form of desire; a thing he seemed to have in bucket-loads for you. You rested your head back against him, revelling in the promise of comfort and belonging that kept you company whenever you found yourself in his arms.  

“Whatever you say, Mr Van der Linde.”  

a/n: hopefully none of you need the reminder but pls don't fuck your best friend's dad, author does not condone it. also I know Dutch would probably be an absolute nightmare on weed given his paranoia, but in this universe that’s not a thing because I don't want it to be :)

[trashmouth-richie]

WE’RE THE LAST IN LINE: 4

PART: 1 | 2 | 3 | 5

mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Modern AU

W.C 2.5k

A/N: Part 4 is finally here!

Since that night, you had woken up to Eddie’s little “Good Morning” texts all week. They started out normal, a simple, “Good Morning,” but the more and more you two talked, the more sweet and goofy they became. For you it was just nice to have someone to talk to, something to look forward to every morning, and Eddie never failed to make you smile.

For Eddie, it was refreshing to talk to someone who genuinely asked how he was doing, and wanted to know how his day was. Instead of the one way constant texts and calls from her. From the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep it never stopped. But you? You were different. And Eddie was finding himself smiling at work thinking about the texts you would send him. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Finding it easier to wrap himself up thinking of your texts than the doom that followed him wherever he went.

You were practically giddy on Saturday as you came in early to open the shop. Skipping with joy over to Pete’s laptop to start up his weekend playlist. Dancing as you looked over the books at the incoming appointments. And your heart beat faster as you skimmed down the names and your eyes rested upon the name your mind hadn’t stopped racing thinking of, 10:45–EDDIE. Your job on weekends was to call all the appointments for the day and to make sure people would still be arriving on time, or if they needed to reschedule. First appointment was a woman named Marcia, who confirmed “yes” to her cover up at 8:30. The next appointment was a man by the name of Bulldog, he was getting a Prince Albert piercing done by Ziggy at 9:30, he confirmed “fuck yeah” to his appointment. And the next appointment for Pete was Eddie. You thought about texting him but decided against it and called him from the work phone instead.

“P-p-PETE! what’s up man?” Eddie shouted through the receiver.

“Definitely not Pete, it’s y/n,” you say with a laugh. “I’m just calling to confirm your 10:45 with p-p-PETE.”

“Wow, I certainly know how to make an ass out of myself don’t I?” Eddie laughs, “yeah I’ll be there, the real question is when does Pete’s apprentice get to stop practicing on the fake stuff and practice on someone real?”

“Ahh, that would be up to Pete. His apprentice is ready but she’s not sure that Pete thinks the same.” a smile is plastered so hard on your face you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror as you pass by.

“Well, how about a little birdie talks with Pete about it and let’s the apprentice, try—- okay I’m getting confused, I’m gonna talk to Pete and see if he will let you give me a tattoo today, ‘kay?”

“W-what? Eddie!” Your mind is going a thousand miles a minute, you were excited to be given an opportunity like this but on him?, you touching his skin? What if he hates it? What if he never came back into the shop again?! A million different scenarios ran through your mind as your tongue got more and more tied. “I-I don’t want to ruin you.”

Eddie lets out a loud belly deep laugh, “oh honey you’re far too sweet to ruin me.” Eddie slams his phone repeatedly into his head, “just uhh—yeah— I’ll talk to Pete and see what he thinks, so yes, count me in for you doing me at the appointment… uh— what’s that? Yeah ok! Sorry I gotta go! Bye…. MOTHER F—”

Click

Eddie can’t believe that you make him this nervous, nervous to the point that he can’t even talk right. He shakes his head as the heat from his cheeks start to subside.

Giggling you write down that Eddie confirmed his appt as you stare longingly at his name. God, what if Pete actually let you practice on him?

The morning flew by. Pete managed to change Marcia’s hodgepodge of a butterfly into a beautiful black and white rose. According to the blood curdling screams from Ziggy’s back corner, the Prince Albert piercing that Bulldog got was going well. Just waiting for 10:45 to see Eddie’s cute, infectious smile warm the place up. As always you heard Eddie’s motorcycle before you saw him. Perking up a bit and running your fingers through your hair, you apply a generous amount of chapstick to your lips and rub them together before Eddie is opening the door.

“Pete!” Eddie calls swith a cupped hand to his mouth, he’s wearing all black, from his hair down to his boots, he looks like a metal grim reaper dripping of sex and smelling of smoke. He somehow looked hotter and hotter every time you saw him. Blood rushed to your cheeks as he gazed at you with those dark chocolate eyes, winking as he strolled up to the desk. “Uh 10:45 for Sir Edward Munson.” Eddie says with a British accent.

“Edward huh?” You say with a giggle as you mark him checked in on the iPad. “So formal.”

“Yeah I didn’t uh think that through,” Eddie says shaking his head and pinching the corners of his eyes, “please don’t ever call me that, sounds like I’m a vampire hunter from colonial times.” He says with a laugh leaning on the counter. His face inches from your own. His eyes are the deepest pools of melted chocolate, you almost look for Augustus Gloop as you stare into them. “It’s good to see you, funny how I have to go to your work to finally see the girl I text non stop, when we are literally, next door neighbors.” He smiles as he pops a piece of orbit into his mouth, winking again as he munches on his gum.

“Dude ya gonna flirt all day or do you want this shit done?” Pete emerges from the back room rubbing his black latex gloved hands together.

Eddie’s cheeks pink as he pushes off the desk and walks to Pete. “Sorry my guy, hey I was thinking… what if your apprentice,” he says motioning to you, “were to test her skills on me?”

Pete ponders the idea, “what do you think? Ya think you’re ready? I mean it’s just Eddie.”

“Hey!”

You shrug nonchalantly as if you aren’t internally screaming, “I mean I’d like to see where I’m at, and if Eddie is willing..”

“Look at him,” he says motioning to Eddie’s puppy dog eyes, “he’s practically drooling at the thought of your hands on ‘em, come on then. Grab your shit.”

You grab all the essentials needed, and Eddie takes a seat in the chair. “So uh, what are you thinking of getting, and where?”

“Well since this is your first tattoo I’m gonna let you pick.” He leans forward and takes off his shirt. His body is covered in various different tattoos, all patchwork. Except for the Chrissy tattoo. Avoiding staring for too long at the name that has haunted your dreams, you trail your fingers down his arm and find room down by his wrist.

You get the colors needed, and begin sketching as Eddie talks to Pete. A rough draft is drawn up and the final design is put on the transfer paper. Pete looks at it with eyebrows raised. “I mean he’s got weirder shit done, did you see the Land Before Time tattoo I did a few years ago by his elbow?”

“Leave my tree star alone man,” Eddie says proudly displaying it as he cranes his elbow, “shit looked delicious don’t even lie to yourself.”

You let out a loud laugh, he was such a little kid you couldn’t help but snicker at the shit he said on a daily basis. “Alright I’m gonna put the stencil down now so look away, I want you to be surprised!”

The entirety of the tattoo took around three hours. Eddie was probably the easiest person to work on because he already had so many it really didn’t bother him at all. He just sat and talked to Pete about projects he was working on in the garage that week, how he was going to store his motorcycle and start driving the 4Runner again since winter was right around the corner.

You finish the last pieces up and Pete steps over to take a look, “wow, fuck y/n this is good!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why would I lie?” Pete says as he wipes the green soap solution off one last time. “Alright dude, she’s done and this thing is fucking awesome.” Eddie jumps up as he makes his way to the mirror, you stand back shyly as you clean up.

“Shut the fuck up, the pink Power Ranger!” The smile on Eddie’s face is damn near ear to ear, “And what is she holding?”

“Oh ya know?” you tease, “just a cup of sugar.”

You didn’t think Eddie’s smile could break any wider but it does, “I love it! Oh my God this is the coolest tattoo, no offense Pete, that I’ve gotten yet.” Eddie steps towards you and swoops you into a hug, spinning you around. He sets you down gently and keeps his hands on your upper arms, “Uhh— thank you, it’s seriously so badass, you did an incredible job.”

Eddie is staring straight into your soul, his eyes are bright and full of infatuation. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he got to Pete’s earlier today and it was because of you. He had wanted to see you all week but was content with the texts you sent him throughout the day. He didn’t want to ruin a good thing— if there even was a thing to talk about between the two of you. Only one way to find out, and he was praying like hell that the Gods of awkwardness would settle themselves long enough for him to ask.

“Hey, when are you off work today? Do you maybe wanna— I don’t know, grab a pizza and watch some scary movies at my place?” He smiled shyly down at you, cheeks fluttering pink, “I’ll even pick you up.” he says with a wink.

You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t developed small, sweet, ooey gooey, feelings for him. He was affectionate, charming, goofy and extremely down to earth. You would be out of your mind and foolish if you were to say no. “What time?”

Eddie wasn’t kidding when he said he would pick you up, he knocked on your door at quarter to 7, carrying a single rose. He was wearing two silver chains, a long sleeved black shirt and a pair of black jeans and boots. He had on the rings he always wore, and a smile that could make Colgate jealous. “I thought about bringing the sugar over but since you permanently marked me with it I figured I already am bringing it wherever I go.”

You chuckle as Eddie takes you in, you’re wearing a pair of leggings with fuzzy socks rolled over top and an oversized crewneck sweater with ghost face on the front of it, he’s kicking his feet holding a pink phone, a speech bubble over his head reads, “no you hang up first”.

“Okay and props to you for the ‘Scream’ sweater, I don’t care what anyone says, it’s the best franchise out there!” Eddie grins, handing you the rose.

“It was the first scary movie I've ever seen.” you take the rose and inhale it’s beautiful aroma, you turn slow and grab a small vase from your kitchen and fill it with water. Plucking the rose inside of it. “This is beautiful, Eddie, thank you.”

He blushes slightly and hides his face with his hair. “You ready to go? I figured we could hop over to my place and then order the pizza if that’s cool with you?” You lock your door and walk the 8 steps to Eddie’s apartment. His apartment is identical to yours only backwards. Your kitchen is on the left of your apartment, his on the right. The walls in his living room are bare, a lamp beside the big sectional couch provided soft lighting, the tv is the size of the wall it’s hanging from, a small bookcase sits in front of the living room window holding some little odds and ends.

“This is nice, cozy.” You smile looking around some more.

“Eh, it’s alright, not as loved as your place but I do have the bigger tv.”

After much discussion about whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not Eddie orders a large pizza, half canadian bacon and pineapple the other half pepperoni. You excuse yourself to the bathroom as he picks out a good movie. His bathroom is like any other 20 something year old males bathroom. A single towel, a gray shower curtain with a matching rug, toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter, a roll of toilet paper on the back of the toilet. You're pleasantly surprised when you find a bottle of handsoap, but being a mechanic he probably actually uses it.

“And if you’re wrong about the pizza?” You ask him returning from the bathroom and plopping down next to him, “What do I get in return if it’s gross?”

Eddie turns to face you as he wets his lips, “oh I’ll think of something.” He looks so fucking good right now you hardly realized how close you were moving in. His hand gently moves to your chin as he pulls you closer. Your lips party slightly aching to feel his lips against yours. All the pining stares, stolen glances and late night texts were finally building and now exploding around this moment.

A knock on the door breaks the tension between yours and Eddie’s lips. “Saved by the Bell” Eddie grins as he gets his wallet for a tip. He opens the door casually as his eyes are casted downward fishing in his wallet.

A shriek you’re sure is one decibel away from only being heard by dogs bounced off every surface of Eddie’s apartment and rings in your ears.

“WHO THE HELL IS SHE?!”

Eddie nearly fainted at the sight of her, color rushing from his cheeks as his eyes go dark with pure hatred, what the fuck is she doing here? The woman in question?

Chrissy

Taglist: @boomhauer @sidthedollface2 @b-irock @creoleguurl @tlclick73 @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @emxxblog @jadequeen88 @edsforehead @quinnsgrapejuice @idkidknemore @bebe0701 @mandyjo8719 @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

[herdelreydear]

I was all over her

pt 1

warnings: college!au, mean!ellie, owenxabby, elliexreader, (a bit abbyxreader bc of readers past, smoking, drugs, alcohol, some angst, nsfw in this or the next parts

summary: Dina drags Ellie to a camp where they can work at for three weeks, the money is good and they get a little vecation from their college life. It’s annoying but it gets more interesting when Ellie gets to know the other girl that is joining as a camp leader.

notes: i’m really excited for this series, it’s gonna be inspired by the 80s slasher summer camp vibe! They’re not in the 80s anymore but their town is so stubborn, that they still got all the old equipments so it kind of feels like it anyways. I’m also going to switch from different perspectives to get a better view from everyone’s thoughts when things get spicy :P

reposting, liking or even commenting would be so so appreciated <3

{ not proofread }

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„Ugh“ Ellie grunted shoving her stuff in her backpack that was already falling apart and had some holes here and there. It didn’t bother her as long as she didn’t loose anything of her supplies.

„If the money isn’t worth it i’m going.“ Dina, laying on her bed watching her- „Of course Ells as if you’re not living off of instant noodles and my stuff the last few weeks“ she grinned and rolled onto her stomach.

„The kids are gonna be annoying but remember how we were that age?“ she let out a quite laugh. „Were the ones making the rules now, so how bad can it be?“

„Oh fuck you“ Ellie sighed and finally got her backpack to zip up. „Kids that age are little shitheads“ she stood up and let herself fall on the bed next to Dina. „Well yeah, but at least they’re not that bad, I mean they wont be older than 16 y‘know?“

„Well with 16 I started selling“ Ellie grinned. „But if I catch one of them doing anything like that imma beat their ass“ she looked at her phone to check the time. „Well, or their mom will“

Dina flipped a finger against Ellies forehead „Ouch“- „You’re the one that has to behave“ Dina glanced a provocative smile at her. „No girls your age except for me and Abby, and a bunch of kids- I think you can handle that“

„I don’t like that Abby and Owen are the ones giving the orders to us, she‘s okay but Owen is annoying as fuck“ Dina nodded to agree with her. Abby and Owen were a bit older then them, and already did the camp counseling the year before.

„Well anyways we gotta go“ Dina pushed Ellie of the bed otherwise to leave would’ve took forever. They got outside and walked to Ellies Pick-Up truck. The others would drive in a school bus Owen got the permission to drive with. They would all meet at the camp.

This year it was so full, Owen and Abby decided to let all the kids sleep in the little cabins and the leaders would have to sleep outside. Because of Ellie having the Pick-Up they already loaded all their tents on it, wondering why there were two from Abby and Owen, thinking they’d sleep together anyways.

The Trip was nice though, Ellie liked driving and Dina liked being Ellies Dj even though Ellie didn’t approve to all the songs Dina was blasting on full volume.

After arriving Ellie looked unmotivated again. „First and last day are always the most stressful ones, so don’t give up today okay Ells?“ Closing the car door Dina tried to get Ellies confirmation. „Yeah sure“ she muffled and helped Dina with the tents and their backpacks.

Already settled in, they could hear the voices of kids and teens laughing in their little cabins. Searching for Abby and Owen they ran into you.

You just had moved to the place you were now also going to college to. Only about three months ago, but you didn’t recognize the two women approaching you. They don’t look 16 anymore that’s for sure, so they must be from college too, also taking the opportunity to get that money.

Of course you needed that money desperately, normal for a college student. Also, extra money didn’t hurt, and you needed to get away from.. well actually you wanted to get away from Abby, but you already applied to the job before knowing it was organized by Abby- and Owen, her boyfriend.. At least the two other girls are joining too, so you’re not alone with them.

„hey! you’re from college too?“ Dina came up to greet you with a welcoming quick hug, surprised you smiled lightly and nodded. „Uh, yeah I am“ you looked over to the other girl, hands in her pockets and not looking like she was going to great you like the other one. „I’m y/n“ you introduced yourself to the two. „Dina“ -she seemed like a person you’ll get along with, but the other one- „Ellie“ she said shortly, seemed not that pleased by the whole situation. Well, maybe she was just here for the money, and you’d understand that. For you, being outside was calming, and working or more like watching the kids a bit was totally fine with you. Growing up with siblings you knew how to handle annoying teens.

„Hey hey“ Owen stepped out of one of the cabins, Abby on his hand, she looked a bit annoyed but smiled when she saw the small group of yours. „Finally, all the kids are already unpacking their stuff and ready for some food“ she smiled and they stepped closer to greet everyone. „So for the basics: we have plans hung out in the kitchen on wich we are divded into wash off and cooking shifts.“ Abby walked to one of the cabins, the only one that was a bit bigger, everyone followed.

Stepping in she pointed to a list that was hung up against a board. „I think it’s okay that we do the dishes, the kids are here to relax. Owen and I are going to do most of the activities with them, but most of the kids are already to old for that and just want to be outside on the lake or on the fields. You guys just watch out that no ones going missing and when we need you, you’ll help us out.“

Her voice was calm and you couldn’t avoid feeling a big clump in your throat.

Just weeks ago she ended it with you, or kind of did. You apparently just were a little flink she had while being broken up with Owen. It still hurted though. She was the first woman you slept with, but even more- she was the one that gave you the security you were a lesbian. At the beginning she was there for you while being the new student, helping you out a lot with how everything worked you both couldn’t deny the tension that got in between you from the first day you’d met. At that point you didn’t knew about the breakup with Owen, you were fully convinced she was a lesbian anyways. You asked her out on sweet little coffee dates and she took you to her basketball practice ones in a while. It felt like you two had known each other for much longer than just a few months. You started to crush on her besides being sexually attracted to her. But it stayed at being fuck buddies, till you mentioned your feelings and she seemed to be on the same side. All fine, till one night- that stupid fucking frat party. You were waiting for her all night, after not showing up you asked around if anybody saw her. Some did, but they also lost sight of her. Already a bit drunk you made your way through the rooms till you accidentally walked in on two people, needing a sec to realize who was having sex right there.

That night didn’t end well. You were heartbroken (you knew it seemed a bit too fast but it still hurted- and it was the way she did not tell you about him- and didn’t tell you she was actually just getting her sexual frustration eased by sleeping with you) You felt used and had cut her off.

Now, you two had to get along somehow. And it was fine, it wasn’t that deep you tried to tell yourself. Move on, gosh you’re embarrassing yourself . You’d tell yourself.

Everyone seemed fine with the list, and you turned to Dina and Ellie. „So, let’s build up our tents?“ you wanted to get away from her. They agreed. You looked up to Abby while walking past her, she gave you a little smile. You noticed her apologizing look, it made you sick.

„Oh I forgot to tell you, Jesse‘s coming too“ Dina turned her head to Ellie while putting together the tent. „How did you forget that“ Ellie scrunched her eyebrows together. Sweet. You held on to the other side of the tent, not doing much because you didn’t knew anything ok how to put up those. „Well, Ells he’s not here so obviously I forgot him. He’s always late!“ she rolled her eyes. „Jesse‘s my Ex“ she turned around to tell you without being asked, but you were to shy to ask anyways, so you appreciated her leading the conversation. „So now we’re two“ you tried to smile. „Wait what? You were dating Jesse??“ You shaked your head hardly. „Noo I don’t even know him don’t worry“ before she could ask about Abby, you quickly finished building up the tent and changed the subject. When all tents were up, Jesse arrived. Extroverted like Dina he started blabbering all kinds of stuff on to you, knowing he just tried to made you feel less left out, you tried to stay as focused as possible and answered to all his questions.

„So now, who’s gonna sleep where?“

All of you stood infront of the three little tents. Abby and Owen were already in the kitchen, making some dough for bread on sticks, but it was obvious they’d sleep together. „I don’t care, you guys can decide“ You smiled and you noticed Ellie glancing over to you. She was really quite since they arrived but it was kind of.. pleasant.

„You wanna sleep with me?“ She said, and you shrugged. „Sure“ giving her a smile that she gave you back. Dina raised a brow, knowing Ellie, she took every opportunity to get girls actually in bed with her. Poor you Dina thought. But Dina was also more than fine with sharing a tent with Jesse. Yes, they broke up, but they still were like besties.

Following Ellie you climbed into your tent, finding yourself unexpectedly really close to her. Ellie noticed the rosy color on your cheeks. „So.. on wich side do you want to sleep?“ you asked, a bit uncomfortable. Before saying anything Ellie just stretched herself and layed down on her side. „is that fine?“ she reassured and you nodded. While humming you started to unpack your stuff. Ellie watched you while rolling herself another one up. You didn’t mind, and didn’t tell her to stop when she lightened it in your little tent, you just opened the entrance and layed down next to her.

„So how come I’ve never seen you at college?“ She looked to the side and held the joint infront of you, as you took it you thought about how you could answer it as short as possible.

„I just came here a few months ago, wasn’t really with anybody that’s probably why“ you shrugged „I like to be on my own“ you exhaled and gave it back to her. She grinned. „Well that’s definitely understandable, but what about frat parties? They can be fun too, never been to one?“ she layed her head on her arm that was behind her and watched the smoke fill the air.

„Well I was“ you caughed, you weren’t used to smoking weed, and the tent was full of smoke. Ellie laughed and opened the outer layer of the tent a bit wider. „Let’s go“ she tilted her head to the exit, noticing you’re not taking the full air that well and you climbed out of it. It already got dark and you decided to collect some wood for the campfire. You didn’t notice how a constant smile was on your lips, and how the stiffness from before started to loosen up. But Ellie noticed and enjoyed your quite being.

After being done collecting some sticks and branches, Ellie lit up the campfire and Jesse and Dina gathered the kids around it. Abby and Owen brought the food and the atmosphere started to get more calm and chatty. You enjoyed it more than you thought and then and there your eyes met with Ellies.

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I know that’s the second series I started, I think I’ll just write them both at the same time. I hope you like it, I already have the next parts planned x3

I’m also making a playlist inspired by the 80s but also the vibe for this series~

[marquisegallery]

I FINALLY managed to finish the Devil theory pics!! Just barely before the end of the week like I hoped I would ;u;

And so, finally, my very rambly set of headcanons for these gremlins. They're my gremlins now I guess, I have hyperfixated too much lol

(This is going to be long. Incredibly long. And very headcanon-y because these guys don't exactly have a lot going for them in canon anyways. I'm warning you now. :u )

There are some of these borrowed from/inspired by @mechanical-magician's excellent Devil Theory and other BRC headcanons, I will point them out when they come up! :>

Starting off with Devil Theory in general:

The crew name is something all four of them came up with to sound threatening yet badass. With their reputation, it works well!

Their aliases come from the types of weapons most commonly associated with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (for the most part). Daishō is named as such because naming him “Katana” probably would have made the connection too obvious.

He was originally going to have them named after famous Japanese swords/swordsmiths (since it would probably fit the samurai-theming of their costumes better), but decided on the TMNT weapon names because he thinks they flow together better anyways. And secretly, he named each of them after the weapon of the TMNT member they're most similar to.

Plus, he finds it amusing to see other people’s reactions when they find out, lol

The other members themselves did not even realize the themeing until much, much later. Sai and Bō were annoyed by it (Nunchaku still thinks it's hilarious), but by then they were all so used to their aliases that they didn't want to bother coming up with new ones. :P

I personally like to think the gravelly voices they have in game is a sort of "character voice" they do to sound more threatening most of the time.

The only person they genuinely respected before the events of the game was DJ Cyber, though they wouldn’t admit it publicly. Also it’s mostly due to the fact that he can kick (and has kicked) all four of their asses in a 4-against-1 fight. In game, it’s mentioned they were kicked out of Mataan, and in a way I like to think they were quite literally kicked out of Mataan by DJ Cyber himself.

After the game, they do have some respect for BRC overall too. But kind of begrudgingly, and mostly because BRC managed to beat Faux and save the whole city.

On that note! Before and during the game's main plot, they just liked to be heels/assholes for the hell of it (not exactly true, but it's what they tell people if asked). It wasn't until get backstabbed (and almost killed) by Faux as Project Algo did they start reconsidering that, hey, maybe they can afford to be a little less assholish. Sucks that it took that much for them to change, but hey, better than nothing I guess??

So they did manage a sort of Heel-Face Turn… but mostly in that they stop pushing the Code of the Street to the limit, and of course they’ve stopped ratting out rival crews to the cops. They still have their own "heel personas” while in costume though, and still continue their activities as writers. Also occasionally still physically fighting other writers anyways, but its fine, probably!

None of them expect the other crews to forgive them for what happened (especially, y'know, the snitching thing), and indeed no one offers any sort of forgiveness. The feelings from most of the other crews and writers towards Devil Theory ranges from "Well, at least you got what you deserved and learned your lesson. You better make good on your promise to be good or else, alright?" to "I don't fucking trust you and I'm gonna keep an eye on you assholes."

Devil Theory have enough grace to accept this judgement, because hey, it's understandable. And on a more selfish perspective, it's either this or stick to being such unapologetic assholes that they get kicked out of New Amsterdam altogether!

Each of them do feel genuine guilt over the snitching thing and working with Faux behind everyone's backs. Sai was the only one who was opposed to it all in the first place, only being convinced by the others and Faux that it would be "fine". So besides guilt in not pushing back harder, there's also a bit of, "I fuckin' called it that this was a bad idea. I only went along with it because you guys said it'd work out, and look what fuckin' happened!!"

Meanwhile... Daishō is the one who feels the most guilty about what happened, since he's basically the leader, and had convinced the others to go for it. So he feels like it's his fault first and foremost for trying to cheat, as well as for trusting Faux in all of this just because he was one of the Big 3. Not to mention all of his friends nearly dying because of Faux, especially with Sai being the one slammed against the statue in Mataan... If any of them died, Daishō definitely would not be able to live with himself after that. He has not admitted this to anyone and is still personally grappling with that guilt. Nobody knows because he's (unfortunately?) very good at masking these kinds of things...

Sai is the member who ends up leaving DT for BRC, though mostly out of revenge against BRC (and specifically Red) for the crew battle back on Pyramid Island. He gets that out of his system eventually, and sticks with BRC as a genuine member (I have a fan fic idea for this bit of story, hee hee). He's still friends with the remaining DT crew of course, they've all been friends for a long time. (I'll touch on this more in a bit)

So then after the events of the game and Sai joining BRC, as a show of good will, Devil Theory let other writers (and especially DJ Cyber) know how exactly they managed to sic the cops on people: Basically hijacking certain police signals to send in false tips. Because otherwise interacting with the cops directly would have just led to them getting arrested too. (It's something that Faux told them how to do in order to gain their trust and make a "deal")

Everyone thinks it might be at least good as last resort free distraction against the cops. Send in a false tip, something like "Ignore those writers, there's a bigger emergency that is conveniently on the opposite side of the city!!" No one's sure if the cops have the ability to actually trace back the false tips to the source (like what happened with DOT EXE finding out about Project Algo), so writers only use it for emergencies. Still, coincidentally, arrests against writers has gone way down after this!

This also leads to a new addition to the Code of the Street: Any writer found to be abusing the false tips in order to get another writer/crew arrested, will be ratted out to the cops themselves. An eye for an eye! DJ Cyber was considering doing this to Devil Theory as well, but figured them getting pummeled by Faux towards the end of the game was punishment enough.

This one comes from a Mech headcanon: Devil Theory has their own hideout in the shipping container maze on Pyramid Island. The confusing (and frankly rather unnerving) nature of that area means their hideout can stay secure from anyone who doesn’t know how to get there.

My personal addition to this: There are different routes to the hideout based on whether or not it’s Tuesday, raining, a bank holiday, or any combination of those factors. Also, the crew (and even the dock workers of Pyramid Island in general) have not ruled out the possibility of there being any sort of Backroom Beasties in the maze. Sometimes you can hear things in there...

Sai is still invited to hang out at their hideout. Anyone else has to have approval from him and the remaining DT members before they're allowed to visit.

Also based on a Mech headcanon: They have pet crabs they keep at their hideout. Me personally, I like to think they're specifically hermit crabs! So then the crew paint designs onto any shells brought for the crabs, and will let visitors paint one too.

Back to the topic of all four of them being friends for a long time, more specifically: Sai and Daishō have known each other since very early childhood, and then they became friends with Bō and Nunchaku during middle school (i.e. around ages 12/13). Nunchaku in particular was living in California at the time, so it was an online friendship with the other three, eventually moving to New Amsterdam after turning 18.

They may or may not have started an anime-manga club during their time in school, which is how Sai and Daishō met Bō (and with Nunchaku as an honorary online member). All four of them refuse to admit to it these days, lol

Truthfully, the main reason all four of them have stuck together for so long is because they have had rough childhoods in one way or another, mostly due to their respective parents. This is what lead to the four of them becoming friends and wanting to protect/defend each other (sort of like a found family kind of thing), and thus forming Devil Theory together later on. However, they are more likely to admit to the anime-manga club thing than any of this.

(I might elaborate more on how rough it was for each on them in a separate post. Or just save it for a fan fic, if I can manage it...)

All four of them learned to fight mostly from watching wrestling shows and martial arts movies. “But wrestling is fake, those moves probably wouldn’t actually hurt someone--” “Only if you hold back.”

Both Sai and Bō have face scars. Sai has it over part of his lips, while Bō has a mark on part of his jaw. Both of them got these from injuries while trying to learn how to skate and freerun in order to be writers.

With Bō in particular, he outright passed out when it happened, causing the others to panic. They had to take him to the Flesh Prince to get him fixed up (hospitals would ask too many questions for their liking).

For Sai, the only people who know about how he got his scar are the rest of Devil Theory (and eventually he tells Rise too). To anyone else, he just tells them he got it from fighting 3 walking tanks at once. Rise says he should tell people it was 5 tanks at once to make it sound more impressive!

All four of them have cybernetic lower legs (from looking at the in-game models, it definitely looks more like cybernetics/prosthetics than just armor, at least to me). Long story short, each of them lost a foot or part of a lower leg (sometimes on both legs) for one reason or another. It eventually got to the point where Daishō went, "You know what?? Fuck this, we're clearly cursed, so let's just get this over with." And paid for all of them to just get what's left of their lower legs upgraded to fancy cybernetics, as seen in the game!

This is at least another reason for them becoming writers ("With these legs we could probably manage it pretty good, right?"), and then of course eventually forming Devil Theory.

Some more specifics on the why for each member:

For Sai and Daishō, it was directly caused by their Respective Bad Parents. (Like I mentioned earlier in this post, I may go into further detail on that in a separate post. Especially since it gets pretty dark...)

For Bō, it was an accident out in New Amsterdam. Basically there was a failed test involving one of the police's walking tank, resulting in Bō and other civilians getting injured. Some of them fairly severely, and of course Bō being one of those. None of them (including himself) know what actually caused the accident, not even that it was caused by a walking tank.

For Nunchaku, it was a factory accident. This was back when she first moved to New Amsterdam and needed a job. That led her to having to work at a shady factory with unsafe work conditions, and which was taking advantage of new immigrants like her who don't 100% know their rights or who to go to for help right away. Her accident in particular was one of the worst at the factory up to that point, with several other employees getting hurt as well. They all of course quite after that, including Nunchaku herself.

Sai's incident was the earliest to happen chronologically, while Bō's was the last one.

Daishō and Sai tried dating each other at one point in high school. Emphasis on “tried”. At the least, it wasn’t the worst relationship either of them have had, just awkward. So they were able to stay friends afterwards.

And now for each individual member! With bonus head pics. :P

Sai

As previously mentioned, he's the member who joins up with Bomb Rush Cyberfunk in the postgame.

Also as previous mentioned, he at first only joined BRC for revenge against Red, but they sort it out after a while!

Has some anger issues, but since joining BRC (especially after a final serious fight with Red) he’s gotten a much better handle on it.

Eventually after that previous point, he starts dating Rise, there is a whole outline for this I swear…

He and Red still fight each other, but it's more like sparring matches. The rest of BRC end up treating it like actual sport matches, basically cheering on one or the other! Cueball and Bel even act as commentators for these matches, lol

He is fairly stand-offish most of the time, and takes some time to open up to other people.

He can cook, as in cooking without necessarily following a strict recipe. He cooks a lot for his former crew, though it takes him a while to open up and cook for BRC as well. You will not be disappointed if you invite him to a potluck!

He can sing quite well, but he hates singing in front of others, even his own friends (they've only ever heard him by accident when he didn't mean for them to hear him at all). He eventually opens up to singing for Rise at least.

I have a personal headcanon that DJ Cyber will occasionally take suggestions for mixtapes he's working on. Sai suggested several reggaeton songs/remixes, though he expected none of them to be picked. He was super stoked when he found out the DJ actually included one of his suggestions (the AGUA remix) in the particular mixtape that plays on Pyramid Island.

Works as a freelance graphic designer/artist as his day job. He takes commissions on the side. No, he does not take requests and will not draw your OC for free.

He is the one who designed Devil Theory's graffiti in canon, Daishō paid him for it too!

He's Puerto Rican, he moved to New Amsterdam as a kid.

Fluent in Spanish, he has a noticeable Puerto Rican accent when speaking Spanish.

Daishō

He is the leader of Devil Theory!

He let Sai leave the group to join BRC because he started getting sick of Sai’s anger issues (it had been growing worse until the BRC crew battle, at which point said issues were at their worst).

Once Sai gets a better handle on his anger, they go back to being friends, even with Sai staying with BRC.

Fairly chill guy (though also arrogant and snarky at times) out of costume.

While in public as the Devil Theory leader, he can be ruthless (as seen by how the group pushes the Code of the Street to the limit). He can also be dramatic sometimes, almost playing it up like an anime villain/wrestling heel at times. At least he’s smart enough to not let himself get distracted by monologuing.

Though if you genuinely piss him off, he can be incredibly petty and cruel, regardless of him being “in costume” or not.

Daishō wears contacts while in costume, but just normal glasses outside of that

He’s the one who designed Devil Theory’s costumes. He has experience with cosplay before forming DT.

He’s also the one that came up with their Hip-Hop dance. He’s particularly proud of the “criss-cross hop” part of the dance, but this was also the part that the other members had a hard time getting right. (I say this as someone who has attempted doing the dance IRL myself, and also had problems with that part :P)

On that note, he's a pretty good dancer in general, with both freestyle and "formal" dances with specific steps.

He supposedly has enough money to just live off of for the rest of his life, but he continues to be a writer for the fun of it (and as an outlet/destressor). He does still work part-time though, as a secretary for one of the companies in Mataan.

He's a theater major and part of a group that holds plays in New Amsterdam. He loves to play as the villains, especially in musicals. Villains always get the best songs!! That being said, his actual singing is about 100% confidence and 65% actual talent. Him singing villain songs is already great, but anything else is usually "just" alright.

Big fan of horror movies, mainly slasher/splatter and body horror. Also the kind of guy who goes looking for director's cut versions and deleted scenes. He will ramble for hours about his favorite horror movies, especially about the acting and special effects! Though he will also rant about genuinely awful horror movies just as much. He has opinions!!

Claims to have a girlfriend, but he never names who he’s dating or goes into any specific details about her, and the other DT members have never met her. They have a running joke about her being his “theoretical girlfriend”. (Truthfully I just haven't decided if she's going to be someone "in canon" or just slap together an OC. I'll decide eventually...)

This one gets its own subsection because it's pretty long lol:

Daishō is terrible with names. In general it takes a while for him to learn other people's names, and he tends to mess up by getting close-but-not-quite with names. And with him being the leader of Devil Theory, most people assume he's just being a jerk and making fun of them. :P

Some examples:

Tryce = Tricycle, Trace, Tracy, Trance, Trick

Bel = Bell, Beth, Bev, Ring (like a ringing bell lol)

Vinyl = Vine, Vino, Vinny, VHS

Solace = Soul, Solis, Crash, Test

He doesn't have this problem with people who are basically celebrities to him (DJ Cyber and Felix being two-thirds of The Big 3, and he knows Rise because he follows her on social media). So then otherwise, the only thing that helps is coming up with mnemonics/associations. "Bel's hair kinda looks like a bell", "Vinyl works at a record store", etc.

One of the rare times he managed to remember someone's name easily is Red. Because, y'know, literal red head. :P

And yes, this also applies to his own friends, at least with their real names. He had no trouble with their street names, but only because he was the one who came up with them, lol

He's half-Japanese and half-Peruvian, born and raised in New Amsterdam. Fluent in Spanish and Japanese. He has a Peruvian accent when speaking in Spanish, his mother insisted on teach him herself (and to avoid him potentially ending up with a Spaniard accent, lmaooo).

As mentioned much earlier, he has known Sai since they were kids in elementary school. Basically Sai latched onto him because he was the only other Latino at their school, and Sai was already being alienated by the other kids because of that. They eventually realizing they have a lot in common anyways (like same favorite manga at the time) and became friends.

On that note! He only got into anime and manga in the first place out of spite towards his dad, who basically looked down on it as "everything wrong with my homeland these days". Dad only very begrudgingly got Daishō stuff in the original Japanese, choosing to see it as at least a way for his kid to learn Japanese more easily.

That leads to a more genuine love for anime and manga, and then forming the anime-manga club, becoming friends with Bō and Nunchaku, and of course eventually all four of them forming Devil Theory. Funny how these things work out!

Bō

Rather stoic while in public as a Devil Theory member, but outside of that he tends to be fairly nerdy and polite.

Arguably the way he acts in and out of costume is probably the biggest difference among the rest of the DT members. Which tends to be rather jarring to most people…

The tech person of the group, bit of a hacker too. He was the one who figured out the false tips thing with the police signals, and frankly he finds the police force's security systems to be insulting pathetic a lot of the time.

His day job is as an IT tech, though he often gets forced into doing stuff outside of his job description, especially since his damn coworkers keep pushing their own work onto him. He even has to take care of coding things as a programmer/engineer, which is even more outside of his job description!

Being a writer is basically a destressor for him at this point. Do not ask him to troubleshoot your tech problems when he’s off the clock, he hates that. The rest of DT know this and don’t ask him unless it’s something genuinely serious (and only after they’ve done their own troubleshooting).

He's a gamer, and especially loves games that he can mod himself.

Related to the previous point: he has strong opinions about how the game industry is going these days (Little-to-no official support for preservation of older games, going after emulators when they won’t even help make their games more accessible, awful dev crunch especially from larger companies, etc.). He will rant about it if you let him!

He can't handle horror content very well, be it movies or video games. And I mean genuine horror stuff, especially with gore. Silly scary stuff like Luigi's Mansion is fine, but getting into Silent Hill and Resident Evil is where he starts genuinely freaking out. He'll at least watch his friends playing through survival horror games, not playing it himself, but he'll insist on having all the lights on.

One time the others did manage to drag him through a haunted house attraction. He ended up freaked out badly, and afterwards got into a fistfight with Sai over it (it was his idea to do that in the first place). Lesson learned!

He has attempted at least once to get a piercing like his friends, but he almost fainted while doing so (he might have a fear of needles). He hasn't tried since.

Knows how to fight like the rest of the DT members, but some people may underestimate him because they assume the tech guy isn’t that strong. Also, Bō is admittedly built more for weightlifting than outright fighting like the others, but that doesn't mean he can't kick your ass!

On that note, he hates when people underestimate him in general, or otherwise think he’s naive.

Inspired by Mech's own CUE.mp4 and Pluto: Bō eventually starts dating Cueball (the DOT EXE member who joins BRC in the postgame). Admittedly at first I was like, only lightly considering something similar in my own stuff, like "That'd be cute, but it probably wouldn't work for these two in my AU/headcanons, ha ha" but eventually after more thinking I realized, "Wait a minute, this could work after all." lol

His family has lived in New Amsterdam for generations.

Knows enough Spanish to follow along with Sai and Daishō when they have conversations in Spanish, though not necessarily respond to either of them in Spanish (or anyone else for that matter).

Nunchaku

In case her real name in my headcanons didn't already tip you off, Samus Aran surprise!! Nunchaku is a gal named Roxanne! She has a naturally deep voice, and can pull off a gravely “character voice” like the rest of DT.

She goes by Rox as a nickname out of costume/with friends.

"Wait so is she cis or trans--" The way I like to handle this with headcanons is, "Would the character themselves be comfortable answering that question?" And in this case, she wouldn't want to answer either way. If she were trans, she would not feel comfortable sharing that publicly. And if she were cis, she wouldn't answer that out of spite, seeing it as something that's none of people's business anyways.

So basically, either way she's a very butch lady in my personal AU/headcanons for BRC, and that's all you really need to know on that front. :P

Overall a very positive and friendly (and energetic) person outside of Devil Theory, but can be surprisingly underhanded when in costume.

Though either way, she tends to be very high-energy. She is in fact the team member with the highest gremlin energy!

Her ears are pierced, but that was something her parents forced her into doing. She refuses to use earrings and stuff even as an adult, though she did eventually get that piercing on her nose.

She likes spicy food! Also has a tendency to add hot sauce to certain foods just to kick up the spice factor. Sai and Nunchaku used to have small arguments over her adding hot sauce to the food he cooked for her (Sai sees it almost as an insult, as if she’s saying it doesn’t already taste good enough). By now they’ve come to more of an understanding, and Sai just side-eyes her whenever she adds hot sauce to her food.

Was a bit of a kleptomaniac as a teen, and these days she still steals things on occasion. She’s good at it and manages to not get caught (a lot of the time).

One time she went to steal a new TV for the Devil Theory hideout. She saw the store she was hitting had a buy one get one free deal on TVs, so she stole two and gave the extra to BRC for their own hideout!

She works as a mechanic as her day job, mainly fixing cars, though also other kinds of large machines and equipment (washing machines, fridges, trucks, construction vehicles, etc). She’s in charge of fixing the crew’s skateboards when needed.

Adding onto her job backstory: The shop Nunchaku works for as a mechanic is owned by a guy who originally mentored her back at the factory she worked at (mentioned a lot earlier on this post). Basically he'd seen a lot of violations and other shady crap, none of it getting fixed despite multiple complaints and reports. And seeing so many people (including unfortunately Nunchaku) end up hurt at once was the last straw. So he quit, opened a repair shop, and offered Nunchaku and other former employees of the factory new jobs at his business. They're all happier to be away from that crappy factory, which has since been shut down due to the accidents and violations.

Nunchaku is crane and forklift certified. She figured it would look good on her resume, and hopefully be impressive to the ladies. Hopefully. It hasn't worked yet.

She has been interested in learning about welding, especially given how much money those types of jobs make, but for now she's happy with her mechanic job.

She likes to take things apart in order to put them back together again. She finds it's the easiest way for her to understand how something works!

She has a personal goal of someday taking apart DJ Cyber's spider tank thingamajig in order to figure out how it works. And ideally being able to make one of her own. Basically imagine the following: Nunchaku: "Heeeey, Mr. DJ, do you mind if I take a look at your tank thing? I promise I won't take long!" DJ: "Hell no."

She has a crush on Vinyl, but gets too nervous to actually ask her out. Nunchaku also keeps going to the music shop that Vinyl works at to buy records (she doesn’t even have a record player) just to talk to her. Note that Vinyl working at a music shop is inspired by Mech's headcanons for Vinyl! :>

Nunchaku's impromptu "record collection" is growing out of hand at this point, a lot of it for genres she doesn't even like, lol

She once tried to learn how to juggle knives in order to impress ladies! That ended in a trip to the Flesh Prince (again, hospitals would ask too many questions), and she hasn't tried that since.

She knows how to pick locks though! Most of the time it's just using one tool to jam everything until they open. She gets excited when she has to pick a lock that actually requires genuine work to get open.

American, as mentioned a while ago she moved from California to New Amsterdam a bit after high school

Fluent in Japanese (she learned it due to being a weeb, lol); in terms of Spanish, she’s in the same boat as Bō, knowing enough to at least follow Sai and Daishō’s conversations in Spanish

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SO THAT'S EVERYTHING!! For now. Maybe.

I'm gonna go hibernate like a bear for a while. Feel free to leave snacks in front of my cave if you want, loool