#i will NEVER EVER again draw these belts

[wrathyforest]

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 5

Word Count ~5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ sexual content, mild body horror and violence

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

The power is restored later that evening.

You are still sitting on the living room sofa before it happens, still tucked against the doppelgänger. Listening to the death of the storm outside. Watching the gray light oozing through the windows grow dimmer.

“How far did you walk to get here?”

“Not far. The delivery truck broke down about a mile from your house.”

“I’ll give you a ride back into town tomorrow, then. You’ll need to get it repaired as soon as possible.” It was strange, planning things with the imposter like this. As if you were truly allies and not sworn enemies. “What are you going to do once you move back?”

“I haven’t decided my next course of action yet.” His thumb is caressing the line he’d carved on your arm. Gentle, absent strokes.

A blossom of light suddenly illuminates the room. Electricity. You sigh with relief, straightening. You notice your panties still lying on the floor where he’s discarded them. The things that had seemed forgiveable in the darkness now feel indecent under the lighting. Like you’re being judged for your transgressions.

You look at what had once been Francis Mosses and your heart turns over again. And this is why you’ve done it; all of it. Because the sight of him instantly weakens you. You can’t help yourself.

His clothing, still in a state of half-on, half-off, is rumpled, still dirt stained from his trek to your house.

“I’ll draw you a bath,” you say. “While I make dinner.”

He rises, hastily fastening the button of his fly so the work pants don’t drop to the floor. The belt buckle he leaves as it is, the end with the metal piece jingling as he walks, following you up the stairs. The farmhouse squeaks in protest with each step. A heavy tred, though the milkman had never seemed anything but lean. Perhaps what was dwelling inside lent the extra weight.

You turn the lights on as you go, making sure every corner is devoid of shadows. There’s a tiny linen closet in the hall you retrieve a bath towel from. You’re considering what clothing you might have that he could wear while you wash his. Something a former boyfriend had left behind, maybe. You lean and turn the faucets of the claw foot tub on, testing the water temperature and adjusting accordingly.

“I have to find something for you to wear. Just leave everything on the sink and I’ll wash it for you.” You’re about to exit the room when he halts you, fingers lightly closing over your forearm. The previously injured one.

His lips touch yours. Just once. Just for the feel of it, to place a reminder there. You were his.

The deceiver releases you, working on the buttons of his work shirt’s cuffs. You duck out of the bathroom, making your way to your dresser. Nearly every piece of furniture in the home is hand made, built to last. Solid pine, the scent of it still strong after all these years as you begin rummaging inside. There, at the bottom. Shoved way back. Undershirt, briefs.

You snatch at them and return to the other room. Finding the imposter nude, standing beside the tub. You blush, not looking directly at him as you shut off the faucets. You test the temperature a final time and decide it’s safe.

“Soap, shampoo. Here’s a wash cloth.” You point out the items. Wondering if these creatures ever bathed. If cleansing their true form was ever a concern.

One foot sinks into the water. The other follows. He sits down slowly. A little sigh escaping at the feeling of soaking in the warmth.

“I’m going to go start supper.” You close the door softly behind you, descending the stairs. Considering your options for a meal. You’d never gotten a chance to check the garden earlier, so fresh vegetables were out. Canned ones, then. Green beans and instant mashed potatoes from the box. Leftover meatloaf from the previous evening. A quick, easy meal to prepare. Your eyes linger on the bottle of milk in the refrigerator. Not from Francis’ company, but a reminder nonetheless. You shut the fridge again after grabbing the necessary ingredients, then preheat the oven.

It doesn’t take long to get things ready. How strange to see two place settings on the oak kitchen table. You hadn’t had company over in a long time.

Still no appearance from your current guest. You walk to the foot of the stairs. “Francis! Dinner is ready.” You were still unsure how else to address him. It just seemed easier to call him that. If it bothered him, he didn’t reveal it.

The pretender returns just as you’re pouring two glasses of iced tea. You’ve never seen Francis with wet hair; it lies so dark and flat when it’s wet. The clothing you’ve lent doesn’t quite fit right, a little loose on the shirt and tighter on the material clinging to his hips.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything better to offer you. I wasn’t expecting…”

“It’s fine.” He holds out a hand, turning it over to stare curiously at new wrinkles along each digit.

“You pruned up. Spent too long in the water,” you explain. “How was the bath?”

“Enjoyable.”

“Good. Have a seat.” You drag the chair out slightly and he finishes the task, settling at the table about to be laden with food.

The dark eyes follow your movements around the kitchen. Potholders in hand as you remove the reheated dish from the oven. It seems too quiet in the house. You wish you had switched on the radio in the living room. Just for the comforting sound of background noise. Something to soothe your frayed nerves.

You sit across from your guest after you’ve filled both your plates. He still hasn’t touched anything. Hesitant. Waiting. And then you realize it. Francis would have said grace. You close your eyes and bow your head, reciting the words. “Bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts that we're about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen.”

A soft echo of the last word. You wonder if it would be considered blasphemy, what you’ve just done. The invader participating in it. You’ve never been overly religious yourself. You suppose you’ve committed far worse transgressions than this one over the course of the day.

The dark haired creature lifts a spoon and takes a tentative scoop of the white mixture, bringing it to his mouth. Considering the taste. “Good.”

You realize you’re starving and you dig in. Stabbing the loaf and cutting off a piece, blowing on it to make sure it’s cooled enough before taking a bite. Still moist. Your grandmother’s recipe. The figure on the opposite side of the table mimics your actions. “Careful. Don’t burn yourself. It’s still hot.” You hate burning your tongue. That awful soreness, the awkward numb feeling.

It doesn’t take long for the imposter to clear his plate. “Seconds?” He nods and you push back your chair, lifting his plate and returning to the counter. The glass he refills himself from the pitcher on the table. “Have you eaten before this?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t…” He pauses. “Different than this.” He seems reluctant to elaborate and you’re not sure you want him to, so you let the subject matter drop, setting another helping before him and retaking your seat.

You struggle for a safe topic of conversation. Everything you think of, each query you seek answers for, seem anything but. This domestic peace between you feels fragile. You’re not sure how long it will last.

After the meal concludes you bring your dishes to the counter and the false milkman copies your actions, piling them next to yours beside the sink. You let the water run hot and then plug the drain, filling the sink halfway. You squeeze a generous dollop of dish soap from the bottle tucked on the rim of the porcelain basin. A little too generous, maybe. There are a few little iridescent bubbles that drift through the air in front of you.

One arm tucks around your waist from behind. Lips beside your ear. You struggle to scrub the plate in your hands, your heart pounding. A throbbing further down. Still hungry for him.

He hums Francis’ song. You feel tears welling in your eyes again. The dish you set in the drying rack nearly falls, your wet fingers clumsy.

“Did he suffer?”

The humming stops. “What?”

“Francis. When you took him over. Was it quick, at least?”

“Yes.” He could be lying, of course. But why would the alien care about your own comfort?

You pull the drainer from the sink and the water level begins descending, the last of it suctioned inside with a loud squelching noise. He’s still holding you. His breath warm by your cheek.

You can see nothing through the window above the sink. You stare at that void, blinking away the tears.

***

You’d forgotten about the bloodstains on Francis’ work shirt.

You’ve just begun lathering the fabric with soap in the bathroom sink upstairs when you notice the incriminating flecks.

Hydrogen peroxide will remove them. Erase those traces of the milkman’s lifeforce that had spattered upon his surrender.

It makes you want to weep again.

Once your chores are completed you take your own bath.

You don’t linger. You’re thinking of the doppelgänger resting in the chair in the corner of your bedroom. Trying to figure out where he’ll spend the night. The living room couch, maybe.

The mirrored medicine cabinet is clouded when you emerge. You swipe at it ineffectually with your towel, still damp from your body. The one the creature had used lying in a pile on the floor by the tub. You toss it into the hamper before dragging a comb through your hair and brushing your teeth. Hastily sliding into a sleeveless nightgown. Tiny lilacs printed on the fabric. You have them growing in the side yard, the perfumed scent when they’re in bloom wafting over you when you walk by. You touch the purple satin bow at the scooped neckline. A delicate little detail.

Those dark eyes watching you as you begin to strip the bed. He moves to assist you in stretching a fresh fitted sheet over the mattress. You can hear the drip of the water from Francis’ clothes hung to dry over the tub in the next room.

He sits on the side of the bed while you rub moisturizing lotion into your elbows, over your hands and arms. Legs once you’re seated on the opposite side. He’s moved so that he’s propped upright against the carved headboard, lower limbs stretching out along the length of the bed. Inviting himself in. Maybe it was better this way. At least you could keep an eye on him. Not worrying and wondering what he was doing downstairs all evening.

You switch off the lamp on the nightstand and lie down. Hear him scoot lower until he’s resting next to you. There’s just a top sheet at the foot of the bed. It’s really too warm for more than that. Through the cracked bedroom window you can hear the crickets chirping near the foundation outside. You turn away from him, reclining on your side, facing the wall. Willing your eyes to shut, to get some rest.

Succeeding.

You awaken and it’s still dark in the room. There is a hand on your bare shoulder, stroking circles along your deltoid muscle, grazing the path where your neck meets your shoulder, dipping into the hollow above your collarbone.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, and you hold your breath. Wondering again over how fast your body reacts to his touch, to his voice, to everything. “What are you doing to me?” As if you are the one caressing him in the middle of the night and not the other way around. “What is this feeling…this ache…”

You turn onto your back. He reaches blindly for your face. Following the angle of your jaw. His thumb seats in the dip in the edge below your bottom lip and he tugs gently, your mouth opening. His mouth finds yours. Tongue slithering between. You whimper. Your fingers seed in his hair. Still slightly damp. Refusing to dry in this humidity. He reaches for the hem of your nightgown, sliding the cotton material upward. Immediately at your panties, eagerly working inside. A heavy sigh of satisfaction from him. You gasp, your legs falling open. So wet already. Your body not caring if this isn’t really the man you love. It wants this. It craves this forbidden touch.

He’s so, so good at the touching. Retaining everything you’d showed him previously. Expertly manipulating your clit. Thrusting inside of you. You moan into his mouth. The side of his throat. You lap at that skin. Rough now. The first pricks of new growth of facial hair coarse against you.

“My sweet girl. Mine. You’re mine.” You do not protest. Your hips are lifting, grinding you against his fingers. It doesn’t take long to find your release. Your nails rake his back. The praise spills from his lips. The claims that you belong to him continue. His possession. His. To do with as he wishes. “Touch me, love. I need you.”

You find his cock leaking against the tight fitting underwear. You shove at the elastic top, releasing it partially from its confines. Stroking. He shifts positions, resting on one forearm. Fucking into the tight ring of your fingers. “Francis.” He’s not him, he never will be, but it’s so easy to pretend when it’s like this. In the dark and the heat of the summer weather, from the exchange between your bodies.

“I want to be inside of you. I want…I want…”

His breath shudders and his hips stutter as his orgasm rocks through him. Spilling hot seed over your fingers. The mattress dipping and creaking as he drops his full weight down onto it. You slip out of bed, padding barefoot into the hallway to retrieve a wash cloth. Washing your hands at the sink in the bathroom before bringing the dampened material back to the imposter in your bed, dragging it over his skin until you’re satisfied he’s clean.

You leave the soiled cloth on the nightstand, lying back down with your back to him again. He pulls you against him. The curves of your bodies fit together like spoons resting stacked in a silverware drawer. Your hands rest on the forearms curled around your torso. Feeling the threads of his body hair. He breathes your name into your neck and you shiver. There are still so many hours before dawn.

***

The week of your suspension passes quickly.

Francis’ doppel has already moved back into the apartments. Calls made. To the milkman’s employer. To the DDD director. He says he seemed placated, but you know better. They’ve been alerted. They’re going to be watching him closely. Both of you.

You like having him visit your home far more than you should.

It’s beginning to feel comfortable. A routine developing. He helps you sand and repaint the front porch once the weather is no longer humid. Tending to the garden. Mending the fence bordering the side yard. Replacing the broken bracket for one of the pantry shelves. Tightening the gasket under the kitchen sink when you hear water dripping during dinner one evening. There are endless repairs when one owns a home. Especially one of this age. It’s strange to see the imposter working so diligently to maintain it.

Stranger still how much you enjoy him in your bed.

There are many kisses and touches. Moments of taking each apart with hands and mouths. You learn each other’s bodies. You know he wants even more of you. You want it, too. But you’re reluctant. For so many reasons. Fearing an accidental pregnancy not the least of them.

The guilt of betraying the real Francis that still haunts you.

***

Your replacement as doorman had not been very tidy.

The desk is cluttered with papers, confiscated entry requests and identification cards. Pens no longer in their cup beside the phone. The day’s listing taped sloppily to the wall beside the window so it hangs at an angle.

You spend some time rearranging things. Restoring order. Internally, you’re trying to get yourself back into the right frame of mind. You have a duty to protect the residents. The replicants are not welcome. Never to be trusted. Francis’ copy is the only exception.

You shouldn’t be making it.

He’s there at your window later that day. Looking tired. Thrusting his ID and paperwork through the narrow slot at the base of the glass. Merely for show, of course. There is a security camera inside the office now. That video feed being constantly monitored by a DDD member. You’ve already warned him about it.

There’s an extra piece of paper beneath the entry request form. A small scrap with a torn edge. You tuck it into your palm quickly before reviewing his documents, then handing them back with a smile before pressing the door to allow him to enter.

You make a show of shifting some papers, your back to the camera as you quickly unfold the secret message. An invitation to come to his apartment once your shift is over. It wasn’t wise to draw attention to him. But you find yourself unable to resist the offer. You see the pilot that lives near Francis leaning in the open doorway of his residence as you exit the elevator after your workday ends, smoking a cigarette.

“Mr. Rudboys,” you greet him, nodding. “I’m just dropping off some paperwork for Mr. Mosses.”

He grunts, a smirk twitching his thin lips. “Sure you are, doll.”

Your spine stiffens in embarrassment, your neck warm beneath your shirt collar as you knock on the apartment door.

Your lover opens it and you hastily bid farewell to his neighbor before you enter, closing the door behind you with a little sigh of relief. “I think he might suspect—” You don’t get a chance to finish as his mouth covers yours. “Francis,” you gasp.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, planting kisses along your throat, unbuttoning the top of your blouse and seating his lips in the hollow there. “This tedious work routine is unbearable.”

“I did warn you. You have to earn a living. Pay bills. I still don’t understand why you wanted this.”

“It’s not the mundane work ethic you devote yourselves to that we’re interested in, I assure you.” He nibbles your ear.

“So why do it, then?”

He sighs, his affectionate gestures ceasing. “Do you really want to talk about this right now? I had envisioned a rather different evening for us. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

“I found something I know you’ll like. Come here.” He leads you into the living room. There’s a tan object resting on the coffee table. The length is too short to be a suitcase, the height making you realize what it is a heartbeat before he lifts the lid. A portable record player. Beside it, a shallow stack of vinyl albums. “Saw it in a shop window on my route downtown. I’ve no idea if you like those artists, but…”

“Francis.” You cover your mouth with your hand. You can hardly believe it. Such a thoughtful gesture. From the intruder or some sentiment of the man he’d taken over. You don’t know which is which. You never have.

“Try it out,” he invites.

You already know which record you’re going to play. At the very top of the pile you see Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s collaboration. You slide it from the sleeve and place it on the turntable. Setting the needle down gently on the ebony disc, you grin when it starts to play.

“Turn the volume up. It’s only fair, considering.” He nods towards the direction of the apartment where Mia Stone and her fiancé reside, a mischievous smirk on his features.

You comply, still uncomfortable with making it too loud. “Dance with me?” You’re not certain if he knows how. But the memory is there for him, plucked from the depths at this hour of need. His hands rest on your waist. You twine your arms behind his neck.

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you

Birds singin' in the sycamore trees

Dream a little dream of me

He turns, lifting you easily. You smile again, allowing him to pull one of your hands free to clasp beside you as you rest the other one on his shoulder, swaying gently as your bodies move in a tight circle.

Say nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me

The doppel leans suddenly and you gasp, but his hand is strong against your lower spine, the other holding your hand tightly. The throaty male singer’s voice begins the next verse as you’re lifted upright again.

Stars fading but I linger on dear

Still craving your kiss

Now I'm longin' to linger till dawn dear

Just saying this

“I thought you didn’t like music,” you murmur against his ear, lifting slightly on your toes.

“It’s growing on me.” You draw back to find him smiling. Francis’ smile. Your heart lurching in your chest again as the artists’ voices join together.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Leave the worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever may be

You've gotta make me a promise, promise to me

You'll dream, dream a little dream of me

The song ends. His hands cup your face. “Sweetheart.” His mouth hungry on yours. “Come to bed with me, love.”

You nod, following him to the bedroom. Undressing each other. Practiced at this now, clothing quickly shed. Not stopping to move the comforter, pressing your naked body down on top of it.

“I want to be inside of you.” He says this often, and it frightens you as much as it thrills you.

“Francis…”

“Let me in, love, please. My special, sweet girl…” His hand wedges between your thighs. Never once has he forced you. Never once have you denied him. You open your legs and he straightens, kneeling between that v shaped space. Running his erection along your pink flesh, parting your nether lips, spreading the slick from your core through them. Massaging your hooded button. Pausing outside your entrance. Waiting for your permission.

“Please,” he says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him say the word.

“Okay.”

Pressure as the fattened dome violates your canal. You gasp and his hands instantly reach to soothe you, caressing your thigh as he thrusts inside gradually. He leans his weight forward in small increments, bringing your legs up as he goes. Pressing deeper inside of you. Still more than you’re used to. There’s a burn accompanying the stretch as his prick fills your pussy. A kind of raw ache when he is fully sheathed, bumping against the edge of your cervix. Lifting his hips, the shaft sliding back. Thrust in again. A slow rhythm that you know belies what he really wants. His arms tremor with the tension on either side of you. Your knees hug his ribs. He kisses you and you rock against him. The movements become easier. A wet sound every time he bottoms out, his cock fully buried, the base of his groin tapping your own.

“So perfect, love. So tight around me.” He’s already perspiring. He hadn’t opened the window. The air in the room is stale and warm. You taste the salt of his leaking sweat when he kisses you.

“Francis. You feel so good…” The discomfort has subsided. Now, every motion brings nothing but pleasure. Your nails dig into his shoulders. The warning your mind attempts to deliver is ignored. You want this. You want him. You’ll worry about the consequences later.

He moans loudly. “They’ll hear you next door,” you caution.

“I don’t give a fuck. You’re mine,” he growls, nipping at your throat. “I want to mark you again. Somewhere everyone will see.” Sucking kisses near your collarbone. Moving back to your neck.

“Oh, Francis, don’t.” You know how difficult it is to conceal a hickey. You can’t allow it. Imagining greeting the residents with a bloom of raspberry on your throat after the fragile vessels beneath had burst. It was too much.

“A different kind of mark, then. Like the one I made before. Somewhere they won’t see.” There is still an ache to the healing wound he’d previously left. The sutures have been removed, the edges knitting together nicely. “I like being able to feel you when you’re not with me.” He thrusts back inside you. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” His pelvis jerks faster, his passion building once more. A hand snakes between your bodies, thumb stroking your clit.

“Oh…” Your hips roll up, making that finger collide more firmly. The familiar sensation of release building inside of you. The coil tightening. “Francis…”

“Cum for me, love. Want to feel you around me.”

Your lower spine is on fire. You can’t hold back any longer. You climax, the walls of your canal spasming around him as the pleasure wracks through your body. Trying to milk your partner’s release. It’s working. You recognize the tell tale shudder. The way his breathing becomes ragged. “Please let me,” he says again, his voice full of need.

“Yes.”

A sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh escapes him. His mouth at the place where your neck and shoulder meet. An instant of heat and needle sharp pain. Something piercing you. Not Francis’ teeth, but belonging to the thing inside of him. The hurt vanishes, replaced by another sensation. You’re warm again. Your body ready for another release. The wave of a second orgasm dragging the doppel through his own. You feel the wet heat of his ejaculate filling you deep inside.

The damp skin you’re clutching ripples. That hazy shimmer visible when he draws back slightly to regard your features, still buried in your womb. You haven’t seen this struggle for many days now. Nearly forgetting its existence. Allowing yourself to be deluded.

Now reminded as the imposter fights for control. The hand that had been draped loosely against your throat tightens slightly, a sharp prick of claws digging into that soft skin, nearly enough to invade that barrier. Your eyes widen in alarm. “Francis,” you manage to choke out.

He abruptly releases you. Looking at his hand as if it’s foreign to him. The movement beneath his flesh stops, the halo fading. He is whole again.

“I’m sorry. I was overwhelmed, I…” His voice trails off. You struggle to move and he withdraws. You feel his cum dripping out of you, staining the blanket beneath you. “Sweetheart.” Worry in his eyes. Touching your cheek. Your force yourself not to flinch. Not to think about the unnatural seed he’s just filled you with. What that union could possibly result in.

The bite he’s left tingles. You reach for it absently, the flesh warm beneath your fingers. It’s slightly raised and firm. Like getting an insect bite, your body reacting to the venom injected.

“It will go away. I didn’t…it’s not deep.” His fingers nudging yours, feeling the injury. “Sweetheart. You’re so quiet. Talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling. What you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know.” There are so many of each, all competing to be heard and felt. “I think…I think I’d better go home now.”

“Stay,” he pleads. This sudden begging of his, you’re not sure what to make of it. “Even if not for the night, just stay with me.”

You shake your head. “I should go. It’s well past curfew.”

“I don’t care about your stupid government’s rules,” he snaps impatiently.

“I do. I have to live by them.” You move to sit on the side of the mattress, his hand reaching for you, settling on your scarred forearm.

“I thought about you all day. All I wanted was this. To be with you.”

“Francis. I can’t stay. Truly. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You bend to retrieve the nearest article of clothing you can reach.

“You’re upset with me.”

“I’m scared, Francis.”

“Of me?”

“Yes. No. Not just you. Everything. You guide his hand to your abdomen. “What will you do if there’s a baby?”

“Is that what you’re so concerned about?“ He sighs heavily, looking relieved. “I’ll protect it. Just like I’ll protect you.”

“They would never let us keep it. Not your species. Not the organization. The DDD would dispose of it. Your race…you wanted it for an experiment. You told me that.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“You know what.”

You swallow thickly. “This is so dangerous. And you act like it’s not. They’ll kill us, Francis.”

He shakes his head firmly. “No. I won’t let that happen. Did you notice there were no doppels today?”

“I did. It’s unusual, but it does happen on occasion.”

“That’s because of me. Because they recognize this.” He caresses your marked arm. “No one would ever dare harm you.” His fingers now on the new puncture he’d created.

“Even if that’s true, it won’t stop the DDD.”

The imposter cups your cheek. “You’ve done something to me. Not something visually apparent. Something inside. I have to be with you.” He kisses you, the intially chaste gesture deepening and your hand relaxes, dropping the garment you’d retrieved back to the carpet. “Stay with me. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

You can’t refuse.

[steddie-as-they-come]

ok listen so i saw this tiktok where this girl was at a concert and the singer gave her his ring to hold for a song and then didn’t take it back and i knew i had to steddie-fy it. enjoy!

Steve didn’t know what he was doing there.

Robin had dragged him along to this bar to chaperone for her date with some metalhead girl, but sometime during the night she had disappeared into the bathroom to go make out with said girl, and Steve had been left alone at the front of the crowd.

Look, he never said he was a good chaperone, alright?

And now the next band was coming out.

Corroded Coffin stepped onto the stage, and Steve felt his mouth go dry.

The guy in front, the lead singer, was the hottest fucking guy he had ever seen.

He had dark, curly hair, was dressed in skinny-as-hell jeans, and his shirt had the sleeves cut off, as well as most of the seams on the side. When he raised his arms, Steve caught a glimpse of ink under the shirt.

The guy wrapped a ringed hand around the neck of his guitar, smiling devilishly at the crowd. “Ready for the most metal concert ever?”

The crowd screamed their approval, and Steve screamed along with them, not knowing what the fuck he was doing. He knew he looked so out of place among them, his soft yellow sweater a spotlight against the sea of black clothing and silver chains.

The singer strummed an experimental note, then frowned down at his hands. “Dammit, wore the wrong ring today.” He slid a ring off his right knuckle, then peered at the crowd. “Here.”

He pointed at Steve, whose heart froze. He tilted his head. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He lobbed the ring at Steve underhanded, who caught it gently. “Hold that for the rest of the show, alright, pretty boy?”

The guy backed up and started the count for his band, but Steve didn’t even hear when they started to play. He was too busy staring at the ring, turning it over and over again in his hand. It was a cool silver, with an amber stone inlaid in it.

He slid the ring onto his pinkie.

“Holy shit, Steve!” came a familiar voice in his ear. It was Robin, hair messed up and makeup smeared. “These guys are good!”

He laughed. “I see you had fun.”

“Steve. Steeeve. She is so fucking hot, dude.” Robin said, splaying over his shoulder. “She went to- where’d you get that?”

She was looking at the ring.

“Uh,” Steve said dumbly. “He gave it to me.” He pointed up at the lead singer, whose hair was flying everywhere as he belted into the mic. His voice was amazing, like a wrecking ball crashing through Steve’s heart.

“No fucking way.” came a voice from Steve’s other side. Robin’s date, Emily or Amelie or something like that, he couldn’t quite remember, said. “Eddie Munson gave you a ring?”

“Yeah?” Steve said. He plucked the cup out of her hands and passed it to Robin, who drained it. “Why?”

“Because he never takes them off. There’s band interviews of them where his band mates are complaining because Eddie won’t share. And he just gave you one?”

A particularly loud stomp broke them out of their trances and made Robin fall off Steve’s shoulder. Eddie must have seen they weren’t paying attention, and decided to make them pay attention, by jumping and landing right by Steve’s head.

Steve jolted back up, staring directly into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie winked.

Steve felt his face grow hot, and even though he tried to tell himself it was only the stage lights reflecting onto his face, he knew that wasn’t it.

Corroded Coffin may not have been Steve’s taste in music, but he couldn’t deny they were good. Eddie, of course, stole the show, his undeniable stage presence drawing everyone in.

Including Steve, of course.

By the time the set was over, Corroded Coffin packed up their shit and left the stage. Steve was preoccupied with getting home.

As the two of them exited the bar in a stream of other patrons, he looked down at his hand.

The ring Eddie had given him was sitting innocently on his pinkie, twinkling up at him.

“Shit.” he whispered.

“What?” Robin asked. “Steve, what is it?”

“His ring. I think I was supposed to give it back at the end of the show.”

“Aw, really?” Robin said. “And here I was thinking he proposed.”

Steve shoved her, then dragged her out of the way of the doors. “Shut up, I gotta return this before he reports it as stolen.”

“I think the only thing that’s stolen is my heart.” someone said from behind him.

Steve whipped around.

Eddie.

“That was…really, really corny.” Steve said, trying to regain his footing. His entire brain was screaming “HOT BOY” at him, so it wasn’t really working. He thought he made a valiant effort, though. Robin had slunk off to hide somewhere and watch from afar, the traitor.

Eddie shrugged. “Eh, opportunity came up, had to take it.” He held out his hand to shake. “Eddie Munson.”

Steve took it. “Steve Harrington.”

He slid the ring off his finger and made to drop it into Eddie’s hand, but Eddie held up a hand. “Listen, I’ve decided you can keep it, but only if I get your number in return.”

“Really?” Steve crossed his arms, balling the ring into his fist. The cold metal pressed against his palm. “I’ve heard from one of your fans that you don’t even share your rings with your band mates. Why do I get one?”

“Let’s just say I’m curious about why a guy dressed like he just got out of a PTA conference is in my metal audience.” Eddie said.

Steve looked down at his sweater. “Okay, listen, it wasn’t a PTA meeting.” he said. “It was a bake sale.”

Eddie laughed. “Even better, Jesus. You’ve got to tell me more.”

“I’m free for lunch around one?” Steve offered.

“Perfect.” Eddie tapped his phone and offered it to Steve to put in his contact. “Text you soon, pretty boy.”

Steve was so preoccupied with watching him walk away, he didn’t realize he still had the ring.

[hairmetal666]

It starts in Eddie's second senior year, close to the beginning of the semester. Eddie's in trig (again). He's good at math, but Mundy fucking sucks, always giving Eddie shit for breathing, or his shoes squeaking on the linoleum, or whatever, and he ends up with detention most days. So, he hardly ever shows and can't be bothered to do the homework, even though he knows the answers more often than not.

On this particular day, Mundy is in a bad mood, on Eddie's case way more than normal. In the heat of frustration, Eddie scrawls, "I fucking hate this class" on a scrap of notebook paper, and for reasons he can't begin to explain, leaves it folded on the window ledge. He doesn't think anyone will answer; fully expects the paper to be gone come morning with maybe another detention slip under his belt to show for it. He's a little flabbergasted, the next day, when the note is still there, and loses his mind a little when he sees the words "tell me about it" underneath his first message. He doesn't recognize the handwriting, sloping and a little looped, and for most of the class period, he's too bemused to respond. Right before the final bell rings he scrawls, "trig. You?" He leaves the paper on the ledge again. "Algebra 2 :(" is the response.

They keep it up, just a few words at first, before Eddie accidentally doodles on the page, and the other guy scribbles a hasty formula, the math spectacularly wrong. There's a little arrow leading to the words, "this shit sucks." Eddie re-writes the formula with the correct math, leaving careful notations of how and why. The next day he sees, "Shit, dude, I totally get this now. Mundy should retire and let you take over." Which pleases Eddie down to his core.

The messages get longer, nothing super personal, but complaints about life, math help, Eddie's silly little doodles, bad jokes, the slightly lewd drawings typical of teen boys. Eddie's never had a better attendance record in his life, but there are some days where his notes are left unopened. Most remarkably a couple week period before Thanksgiving, where he goes unanswered for so long he figures whatever thing they had going is done. But after the holiday, the notes start up again, with no acknowledgement they ever stopped. Eddie doesn't bother questioning it.

They keep it up almost all year, and they're definitely friends, even though they're totally anonymous. And that wouldn't have changed, except it's the day before spring break and Eddie's vibrating out of his skin with anticipation of the time off, so he forgets his dnd notebook in Mundy's class. He makes it all the way to Click's before he realizes, then sprints back across the school. He crashes through Mundy's door, tripping a little over his own feet.

"Sorry," he pants. "I just left--" he looks over to his desk, far corner right by the window, and then forgets every word he's ever known because Steve Harrington Steve Harrington King Steve, stares right back at him. And he just. He stops and fucking laughs, because all this time--this whole goddamn year--it's been Harrington he exchanged notes with. And sure, the jock's star has fallen in the last few months, with the breakup with Nancy and all that shit with Hargrove, but it's still Steve Harrington. With his big house and his fancy car and his girls. It's pretty Steve Harrington, the focus of Eddie's most hopeless daydreams.

He has a few seconds to see Harrington's hazel eyes go wide, before Eddie spins on his heel and makes a hasty exit. He absolutely doesn't spend the break thinking about the notes, matching what Harrington wrote with the gossip Eddie heard on him from the past few months.

Once break ends, he doesn't bother going to Mundy's class at all.

The Friday of the first week back, Eddie walks out to his van, only to find King Steve leaning up against it. He's doing that obnoxious thing where he has one leg bent, foot resting against the side panel, arms crossed over his chest, stupid hair falling in glorious cascades around his face. It's ridiculously, unfairly attractive.

"What do you want?" Eddie asks. He opens his front door without fully looking at Steve.

"Can we talk?"

Eddie snorts, "what could you and I possibly have to talk about."

Steve narrows his eyes. It's so bitchy and so fucking cute it makes Eddie queasy. "You know what."

"Enlighten me, Harrington."

"C'mon, man, the notes!"

"What about them?

"Don't be stupid, Munson, you know what. Why'd you stop?"

Eddie pulls a pack of camels and his lighter out of his jacket pocket. "Lost its appeal once I knew who was on the other side. Surprised you even want to keep it up now that you know you've been writing to the freak."

He pointedly ignores the little jolt Harrington gives at that, like the words hurt. Which is pretty rich from Steve Harrington, former #1 bully of Hawkins High.

"I've always known it was you," he says.

"You don't--wait what?"

I've known since, like, the first week, Munson."

"How??"

"What do you mean 'how,' dude, you're always drawing little pentagrams and d20's. Writing the word "Slayer" over and over. Who else would it be?"

And he can't even deal with the fact that Harrington knows what a d20 is (what the fuck) with everything else the other boy just said.

"I gotta go," is his only response. He ducks into his van, slamming the door basically in Harrington's face, before peeling out of the parking lot.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It's the last day of school. Eddie's failed again. His grades, which weren't great to begin with, took a sharp nosedive after spring break, and he just can't wait to be done with this place for a few months. Harrington hasn't spoken to him again, and Eddie tries his hardest to ignore the other boy (aside from seeing him hanging out with Robin Buckley, a junior and a band geek, besides, and he forcibly has to remind himself that he doesn't care what Harrington does).

He slouches into his last math class of the year, slumping over in his seat. He rests his head on his desk, eyes blankly staring out the window as Mundy talks about what a joy most of them were to have in class. His eyes are unfocused, he contemplates a nap, and then he sees it. The tightly folded piece of paper resting on the window ledge.

Eddie almost doesn't take it. He almost ignores it, but he physically can't stop himself for reaching for it, unfolding it, staring at Harrington's now familiar handwriting.

Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me. Buckley helped me see how that maybe freaked you out a little. I know I used to be a piece of shit. But I'm better--or I'm trying to be. And I'm so fucking sorry for the shit I did to you before and the things I didn't bother to stop. You don't owe me forgiveness, but you should know that I regret all of it. I liked passing notes with you. You made me laugh, and I don't know. It was nice to think someone liked me for reasons other than that I'm Steve Harrington, or whatever. I'd really like it if we could be friends. I get if you can't do that or don't want to.

Whatever the note actually ended with is scribbled out in pen so thick Eddie can't make it out.

All day he thinks about the note, the apology, all of it. Eddie thinks, if he's smart, he won't forgive Harrington. That he knows better than to trust him. But Eddie's never actually been that smart in this way, so he's not totally surprised to find himself walking to Steve's car after the last bell rings.

This time, Eddie's the one with his foot resting on the side panel of Steve's BMW, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't have to wait long before Harrington makes his way to the car, chestnut hair dancing in the breeze, biceps on display in a short-sleeve polo. A little smile dances across his lips when he spots Eddie.

"So, you gonna tell me how you know what a d20 is, Harrington, or do I have to guess?" Eddie offers the other boy a cigarette.

"Babysitting?

"Babys--Are you serious??" Eddie splutters. Steve Harrington babysits. Steve Harrington babysits little dnd playing nerds. Steve Harrington wants to be his friend.

A full grin spreads across Steve's perfect face and Eddie is absolutely, 100%, fucked.

(Part 2)

(Steddie Notes is now posted in full on ao3!)

[loaksbitch]

drooling over neteyam hour is open again, just look at him?? jesus. buckle your belts ladies, imagine soft dom neteyam demanding you to throw it back.

warnings - neteyam being neteyam is a warning itself, agedup!neteyam x reader. doggy, short drabble, biting, making, “yeah baby, fuck, throw it back.” — i’m screaming 🧎🏽‍♀️

“fück me back.” — neteyam sully. (⨳)

“shit, looking pretty from behind.” now neteyam won’t lie when he says he likes watching your face when he fucks you in missionary but something about you in all fours, back arched and face pressed down to the mat was doing something to him.

“m-mhgh, ‘teyeam!” you whimper when he starts to give you a deep strokes that makes you see stars, “oh..” your lips form an ‘O’ and hear neteyam chuckle behind you.

“feeling good?” neteyam teases knowing you’re already fucked out to even remember your own name. you’re struggling to form words especially every time he bottoms out with his hands pressing your hips to his pelvis

it feels so good, you admit it’s doing things to you.

“feels…” you stop, moaning loud for him to lean and cover your mouth with his large hands. your eyes roll up to the back of your head. “‘teyam,” you push yourself back to his hips making him hiss and growl

neteyam gets an idea and fully stops moving, your loud whining suddenly cuts off and your frowned and annoyed face turns to look at him. “what’re you doing?” you ask, dumbfounded but his next words makes your ear flatten in horror

“fuck me back,” you never tired this though, how’re you gonna— as if he was reading your thoughts, your mate slowly leans to you and place a soft kiss on your nose. “it’s gonna feel so good baby, trust me.” your widened eyes hesitantly gaze at his swollen lips then back to his eyes

“trust me,” he deeply whispers and leans up back, “arch your back.” neteyam’s voice was now different, more of softer than before. “c’mon baby,” and you do as you’re told. “just like that.” your man hissed behind you

both of his huge hands gripping your hips hard, you feel him press himself against you for his balls to ghost your clit. “oh shit.” he chuckles through a shallow breath. “wait baby, don’t move or else i’ll come inside you” your inside tightening at the thought of that was driving him insane

you wait for your mate to adjust the overstimulation and neteyam taps you hips ever so gently. “now, fuck me” you didn’t think twice before gentle drawing yourself from his cock until his tip was only there and slowly push back, sinking him to his fat girth

oh eywa! your eyes flutter shut and you whine at the feeling.

you’ve full control now, all in fours but fucking him back with no mercy. “good girl” his words cause a sudden yet subtle clench of your walls and neteyam growls a cocky smile painting his beautiful face

“you like it when i call you good girl, huh? you like it baby?” you moan and roughly throw your ass at him. “fuck!” he moans. “such a good girl, you are my baby. such a fuckin’ good girl” you’re moaning a mess under him

realizing his climax is near neteyam must make you fun before he does. you’re now getting pulled up by your waist and neck and feel neteyam press you on his chest that’s covered with sweat. you feel the contact of his strong thighs against your ass and whimper.

“neteyam.” you call his name desperate for the bubble to burst that’s forming in you. “neteyam, neteyam, net…” you’re surely gonna be the death of this man because he feels like he won’t last if you keep saying that

“princess, i need you to cum for me yeah? i’m close.” you nod at his request before grinding your hips like he’s your personal toy you can fuck. “fuck yeah baby, throw it back at me” neteyam bites onto your shoulder creating a bite mark and giving it a kitten lick when you scream

his one hand holding you by your breast bone as the other glides down to rub your sensitive clit was enough to make your bubble burst, completely blinding your sight with black dots. “c-cumming!” you announce before exploding down at him

neteyam lets out a shuddered moan while he’s chasing his own orgasm. “i’m gonna cum, gonna cum baby, ‘m so close.” your mate’s eyes glisten with pleasured tears. you allow him to desperately cling at you, face buried by the curve of your neck.

“where do you want it?” neteyam asks, “baby be fast i can’t hold it.”

you’re too exhausted to think and breath out words between shuddered breath. “a-anywhere.” neteyam nods before deciding fully pull out of you. your jaw drops feeling betrayed when he pulls out of you

“get on your back, wanna see your face when i paint your chest.” his words made you whimper, you really love this man and his nasty words.

you eye neteyam grip his cock and start to jerk off in front of you, “shit, shit, shit” he would say as you watch his dark shaded blue tip disappear to his thumb and reappear when he thrust.

a gasp leaves your lips when ropes of cum leaves the slit and land on your chest, stomach and thighs, painting you so well. “ngh..” strained moan leaves moan leaves his lips and remove his hand from his length.

“you’re so cute with my cum allover you, pretty girl.”

you attentively watch neteyam standing up and with your looks, he knew you’re asking where he’s gonna go. “need to wash this off my hand, princess” he smiles. “be right back and we’ll go to the shores to clean up yeah?”

you smile and nod. “i love you, pretty girl.” and you say it back too.

i wrote this like in thirty five minutes so don’t be surprised for ew ew ew typos yeah? like + reblog i’d appreciated and not pressured!! i love each and everyone of you!! mwah.

[starrypen]

⋇⊶⊰the best worst friend⊰⊶⋇

pairing: friend!jungwon x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: implied virgin reader, experienced dom jungwon, romantic feelings, pet names, swearing. 2k words

summary: following a night of intense texting and flirting with your crush and close friend, jungwon, you decide to put your thoughts into practice. only, jungwon had no idea you weren’t experienced. now he has to show you a good time.

“never?” jungwon presses, to which you clarify with a small nod, bringing your knees closer to your chest. jungwon’s hand sat firmly on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze as he noticed you getting shy. “but your texts were so, i don’t know, slutty?”

you winced internally at his evident experienced way of talking. “i thought you could teach me, here, now.” you bit the inside of your cheek and let it slip through your teeth as the boy neared you.

slowly, his hand creeped further up your thigh. he leaned closer, his lips almost touching your jawline, “teach you what, y/n?”

refusing to answer, too focused on the way his breath tickled at your neck, and his hand that was now over your torso, clasping around your waist and pulling you in.

the unfamiliar pair of lips finally made contact with your skin, just below your ear. his hand was cold against your skin, under your sweater, and was steadily making its way up to your breasts. a heavy, greedy, deeper kiss was pressed to your jaw when he realised that you weren’t wearing a bra. you tilted your head away to selfishly give him more area to kiss, a moan escaping that did all the talking for you. his lips paused, turning into a smile against your neck before he pulled away.

“can i?” jungwon looks down at his hand, already at the waistband of your leggings.

you nod slyly once again and look at him. hurriedly, he takes your bottom lip between his own as he takes his hand to explore under your clothes. he toyed with the small bow on your panties, causing you to twitch under his touch.

“cute,” jungwon parted the kiss to say with a little giggle.

you attempted to rejoin your lips, but failed at the last minute as you felt his finger edging ever closer to your clit, instead letting out a heavy breath that could almost have been a moan.

“this is okay, right?” his finger travelled the length of your pussy lips, teetering on the entrance and looking to you for approval. “you’re already so wet for me, hm?”

“it’s okay,” you replied, gripping at his upper arm.

suddenly his hand stopped moving, you looked to him for reassurance, “can you take these off?” he removed his hand. as you slipped off both your leggings and panties, jungwon unbuckled his belt and brought his jeans and boxers to his ankles before kicking them off effortlessly. it only reminded you of how many other girls he’d been with before you.

“this too?” you tugged at the hem of your sweater. he shrugged, hoping that you would but not wanting you to feel pressured to do so. you took it off, “it’s too hot anyway.”

his hand soon came back to your clit, his eyes on you the whole time as he began circling it slowly.

“do you wanna touch it?” he asks, noticing you eyeing his twitching dick. without answering, you lower your hand and take it into your palm, grasping your hand around it. it’s firmer than you expected, almost like bone, heavy too, but just as pretty as you imagined it. “how is it?” he asks, drawing his eyes from your hand wrapped around his girth to your face.

“hard,” you laugh.

“i’d never have guessed,” he reciprocates with a laugh too. “play with it,” he tells you, you follow. your hand stroked his length, jungwon checking on your face every few pumps to see if you’re still enjoying it.

“can you make me cum?” you ask timidly, throwing jungwon off.

“already?” his smile is a little condescending as he speaks, “not yet, baby.” as he’s talking, you barely notice his finger at your entrance once again. he pushes it in, another shortly joining. you squirm, your grip on his dick getting tighter as the pressure gets unbearable. “if you can’t take my fingers, there’s no way you’ll take my dick,” he slows his fingers down. “come on, baby,” he encourages. you gulp as he quickens them again, “show me you deserve it.” your breathing gets heavier as you feel something building inside you, your hand on his dick becoming lackadaisical. as he notices, he slows to a halt and presses his thumb to your clit.

his fingers don’t move from inside you as he takes to his knees. “open your mouth, can you take it in your mouth, baby?” he asks, as you close your lips around his hardened dick. his thumb begins circling your clit as you suck. his other hand rests towards the back of your head, occasionally pushing it to allow you to take more of his length in your throat. his groans get louder as you gain confidence until he abruptly pulls out.

“shit, i almost came in your mouth,” he laughs, jerking his own dick slowly, “that’s never happened before,” he admits.

in excitement, you don’t realise that he’s taken his fingers out of you, and that you’ve replaced his thumb with your own finger, getting yourself off to the sight of jungwon, naked, in front of you.

“are you gonna fuck me?” you ask him, biting your lip expectedly.

“do you want me to?”

“do you have a condom?” you ask.

he reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a box, singling one red packet out of it. you take it from his hand and rip the packet, revealing the rolled rubber to jungwon for him to put on himself, you forget you didn’t know how to for a second. you studied how he unravelled it over his dick, getting turned on by the thought of it being inside you.

jungwon shuffled back to the edge of the bed and got to his feet on the floor, allowing himself more room to pull you by your leg to be right in front of him, keeping your leg in his hand in the air. he ensured that your neck was comfortable by tossing you a pillow before spitting in the direction of your pussy. it landed slightly to the left of your clit, but he made sure to use his dick to wipe it into the right place.

“you’re so fucking wet, y/n,” he lapped your lips with his cock, watching as he did so. “are you sure that you’re ready?”

you nod, reaching for his cock.

he swatted away your hand, “do you trust me?”

you hum and nod, shuffling your body towards him, eager to have him inside you but too embarrassed to say.

“do you?” teasingly, he places the tip inside and pulls it back out again as he speaks, “say it.”

you shake your head, “please, just-”

jungwon shakes his head in response, “i need you to say it, pretty.” he lets your leg go for a moment, just to move some hair from your face, before propping your leg back up again.

“i trust-” you begin, interrupted by jungwon’s tip being pushed inside you once again, taking away any ability to finish your sentence.

“fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking tight,” he struggled, sighing as he managed to fill you with his cock. “does it feel good?” he asked, sliding out slightly before easing himself back in, “baby?”

“hmm,” you whimper in response. jungwon’s eyes fell onto your body and drifted to your face. you looked away in an instant. wrapping his body around your leg and kissing at your ankle bone, jungwon gave a sharp thrust, before establishing a consistent rhythmic pace. he avoided looking at your body again, worried he’d become entranced by the way your breasts bounced with each thrust.

he adjusted the pace as he felt himself near his climax for a second time, you didn’t deserve his cum just yet. after gently taking his cock out of you and bending your knee, placing your foot on the bed and tapping your other leg for you to mirror it, he crouched.

“did i do something wrong?” you asked, concerned about the sudden change in position.

“you’re driving me crazy, y/n,” he reassured with a tilt of his head, before pressing an unexpected kiss to your clit. your legs tried to close, but you fought the urge, gripping jungwon’s hair as a way to let out the enjoyable new feeling. it only encouraged him to continue. he took the bump between his lips and sucked on it, gliding his tongue over what, in the moment, felt like exposed nerves while it was in his mouth. your grip on his hair loosened, you didn’t mean anything by it but it caused jungwon to check on you. he was met with your pretty face, your mouth clearly wanting to let out a moan that you were trying so hard to suppress. that’s when he began kissing his way down your lips, his tongue interrupting every now and again, hoping to release the moan.

“i’m gonna put my finger in, okay?” he checked.

“okay,” you responded.

the way his tongue looped and played with your clit, the way his finger curled inside you, hitting the spot you’d never managed to reach before by yourself, it made your eyes water and your brain foggy. you felt yourself become taken over by the pleasure, releasing it in what can only be described as a shower of lust. you came, and jungwon was overjoyed.

“you like that, hm?” he spoke proudly, standing back up and motioning to you to move further onto his bed. he clambered on too, so he was on top of you, his dick twitching ever so slightly against your still sensitive pussy.

“now i’m gonna make you cum on my dick, just like we promised,” he assured, readjusting his hands either side of you until he was comfortable. “do you want to put it in this time?”

you reached between your two sweaty bodies, stroking his dick before guiding through your slit. he wasted no time, crashing his body into yours with hunger. having yet to fully ride off your high, you pulsed around him, a mere touch of your own clit causing you to cum once again, unexpectedly.

“already?”

you were thankful for the rhetorical question, the only answer you were able to muster out was his name, moaned loud enough for his neighbours to hear.

“good.” jungwon’s lips collided with yours sloppily. the so-called kiss was heated and lustful, the sensation bringing something unwanted into your throat, a lump that you knew represented your feelings for the boy who only wanted you for one night, and just for your body. you were snapped out of your own thoughts when jungwon broke the kiss with a groan, before pulling out and releasing his cum all over your torso. heavy breathing filled his room, a distinct look of regret on his face as looked upon you.

“are you okay?” he asked, stretching and grabbing the towel that was hanging over his heater.

“fine,” you smile, taking it from him and wiping the cum from your body. you couldn’t bare to look if you’d got it all off, jungwon instead helping you by taking the corner of the towel and wiping away the extra. “that was really fun, thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me, y/n,” he took your hand and pulled you to sit up, “we’re friends!” he lied.

[trashcigs]

watching their girlfriend perform ・ 보이넥스트도어 idol!female reader + word count 0.7k genre est relationship fluff idol au cw not proof-read — more 🍀

jaehyun

literally a die-hard fan of your group! the loudest and most dedicated fanboy to ever exist???? watches on the big screen to observe every cute and pretty expression you make. jaehyun can't stay in one place, he's practically jumping in his seat, mouthing lyrics while doing small movements of your choreography (cutie). smiles too wide his cheeks start to hurt :(( gives up halfway and stands up from his seat to dance with you, knowing your part by heart but does end up doing the adlibs ( other groups around him find him so cute ).

the camera has caught him so many times he doesn't even care at this point, looking at the camera while pointing to the stage where your group is and giving it a double thumbs up ( don't be surprised when he's going viral again for his obvious adoration for you ). so many videos of him eyes tearing up with a loverboy grin on his face when your singing on stage goes viral cause the boy is just so clearly whipped

sungho

you cannot tear sungho's attention away from the stage. eyes always following you, whoever you may be, with a proud smile on his face. he's just so amazed! i mean imagine not having a super-talented idol s/o!?!? the camera literally catches him at the worst moments bc tell me why he's on-screen with his jaw agaped, hand over mouth, laughing, giggling kicking his feet. always staring at you with a stunned expression, hand over mouth, slapping jaehyun's arm ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

whenever you do something cute, his ears turn red. whenever you do something even remotely amazing he'd just gasp! ( celebration afterward ) notes to buy you a gift after the performance and treat you to an amazing dinner because you deserve it.

riwoo

tries not to make it too obvious or draw attention from your performance, but you can tell how happy he is. riwoo is literally losing his composure almost immediately after youre on the stage. his facial expressions range from 'damn that's good' to eyes widening to a very warm grin when you appear on the big screen. would subtly sing along, some parts (yours specifically) of the song he'll mouth. every once in a while you'd see him clapping along to the beat -- from the instruments to the stage, the dance break, and you-- all so captivating. ( /// ○ _ ○)

smile would grow twice in size once it's your part. stares are you with an 'o' shaped mouth and eyes filled with admiration. already knows your choreo by heart, would find himself on the big screen dancing along to the song then gets a bit shy and sits down. loverboy fr

taesan

will try to keep his reactions to a minimum but can't. I mean how could he? when someone as beautiful as you are belting their heart out onstage, who looks fabulous I might add, who wouldn't want to dance along with you? dongmin's eyes would follow your movements in complete awe, eyes never tearing away from the stage. <(■-■)>

trying to maintain his composure pt2 but FAILS MISERABLY AND is caught on camera literally melting to your stunning smile, finds himself smiling back. dancing to your parts and mirroring your moves in like tiny (?). he is completely whipped, having been told by woonhak that the camera is on him. hiding behind his hands while the others laugh at the way the blush creeps up. ( he's such a cutie)

leehan

always staring at you with so much adoration and love. donghyun loves hearing your voice and at times he'd just close his eyes and sway from side to side and give you such a love-sick smile it's insane. his dimples are so visible from a mile away. eyes glowing at you, when you hit that high note he's so mesmerized, like damn my baby can do that?? you’re the most gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful idol to him. you have the looks matched with the voice gifted by angels. and he tells you this every day but it's so evident with the way he looks at you. ~(^ ▫ ^)~

you have him wrapped around your finger whether you like it or not. when the camera focuses on you after the end for the performance for the ending fairy, he's on his feet clapping for you. you can hear him cheering so loud from the crowd, so blow a kiss to the camera, and watch him giggle like a school girl. (he'll blow a kiss back and the audience goes wild )

woonhak

is smiling dancing singing -- just everything! woonhak is so excited to see you perform. thinks you look absolutely gorgeous. can't stay in his seat pt2. fighting the urge to dance along and of course, he loses when he finds himself dancing with jaehyun during the chorus. staff members from the side are telling him to calm down, which he does, but not really. has way too much energy (^⸝⸝> ·̫ <⸝⸝ ^)

does your fanchant and fans are literally recording him doing it, calling him ( your group ) best boy, best fanboy. jaw drops to the floor when you wink at the camera and the boy freezes in place. it's like he's falling in love all over again. turns to his hyungs to show them that he knows your choreography, he's adorable. gosh he loves you so much.

taglist open ⁉️ @in2fly @leehanist

[lovingmattysposts]

Eastside 3

P1 P2 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16 P17

pairing: y/n and matt sturniolo

summary: growing up in the outskirts of Boston wasn't really pretty. Life wasn't that great for most people, most people. You had Matt and no one fucked with you when Matt was standing by your side. The chief's daughter and the bad boy deliquent. A perfect love story?

Warnings: THIS IS ALL FICTIONAL. NONE OF THIS IS REAL IM JUST TELLING A STORY. a mention of doing hard drugs (not in detail) just the effects of it. It’s kind of like breaking bad if you’ve watched that. Please do not read if mentions of drugs is not your thing. This is the only part with mentions of being on hard drugs. suggestive, fighting, drug deals, angst, fluff

dont take this too seriously, i know matt would never do coke its just a part of the story, its just a character ❤️

xoxo autumn

matt pov

“Here” I said throwing the bag onto the table in front of him. Slim looked from the bag and then to me before standing up slightly. I just watched him. My gaze fixated on him.

If he tried anything I had a gun in my belt.

“You seem too pretty to be in a business like this” He said staring me down. I clenched my jaw. I didn’t even want to be here. I wanted to be with my girlfriend. I wasn’t staying around to play games with a 30-year-old druggie.

“What? You got a crush on me or something?” I snapped staring at him. The two guys behind him stepped forward before Slim held his hands up to pause them.

I just stared at Slim.

“Watch it pretty boy” He snapped at me. He moved around the table to stand up to me. “If I’m not wrong, you’re about four days late on this delivery. Your brothers made it very clear that I would have this package before today.” He said staring down at me.

“So I wouldn’t be so chippy when you speak to me” He snapped. I wasn’t intimidated by him. Not much scared me. He did not scare me.

“Yeah well, you got your package so-“ I said starting to turn, but guns were draw quickly making me pause and sigh.

“I’m not done” Slim said looking at me. I turned back to him.

What possessed me to do this? Y/n was right. What the hell was I doing? The last thing I needed was another charge under my belt.

“Make it late on a delivery again, and you won’t get off this easy the next time” He said through gritted teeth. I closed my eyes trying not to snap on this dude. I didn’t take being threatened kindly, but there wasn’t a need for a fight. 3 against 1 I wouldn’t win.

I just stared at him.

He turned before picking up the packaging. “How do I know this is what you say it is?” He asked looking down at it. I rolled my eyes. “It’s pure. I didn’t make it. I’m just the delivery boy” I smiled at him sarcastically.

He reached down into his pocket before pulling out a knife and cutting the top. I just looked at him.

“Take a blow” He said holding it up to me. I glanced from the him to Landon and Ray in the back behind him. Fuck.

“Slim, I don’t do drugs like this” I stated looking at him. He licked his lips. His face didn’t alter. It wasn’t a question. I sighed looking down.

I should have just stayed with y/n. I shouldn’t have made this delivery. This was a mistake.

“It’s pure. Try it for yourself” I mumbled stepping back, but bumped into someone I didn’t recognize. A dude that was three times my size. I looked from him back to Slim.

“Consider it the late fee” Slim said looking down at me. I closed my eyes and sighed. I wasn’t getting out of this one.

Just think of y/n. You can do this.

“I won’t be late again” I said through gritted teeth. If I hated anything, it was being told what to do. But I couldn’t leave y/n. If she found out that I died doing a drug deal, it would crush her more than if I did a blow of Coke.

“I know you won’t. You aren’t leaving until you take this” he said holding bag up to my face. I licked my lips. I’ve only ever really smoked weed before. I’d never done anything like this nor imagined myself doing this.

I was going to kill Nick and Chris.

I looked down at the bag and swallowed.

I leaned down and it was quick, I stood back up looking at him. I started coughing. Fuck that hurt. Slim chuckled down at me before leaning down and taking a blow himself and rubbing his nose, passing the bag off to Landon.

I blinked at him trying to contain myself but I shook my head. My eyes were watering and god that hurt.

He pushed me back slightly before shaking his head.

“Best be on your way delivery boy” he chuckled turning around as I shook my head trying to catch my breath as I turned and walked out of the building.

(I simply don’t know the effects of Coke so I am just guessing 👍😀)

The cold air hit me fast feeling it all over my skin. I shielded the light of the street light against my face. Damn that was bright. I shook my head trying to focus as I walked down the street.

My vision seemed almost clearer as I walked and before I knew it my mind was racing and I walked all the way back to y/n’s house.

Now it was nearing 3 in the morning.

She was mad at me.

I knew she was mad at me.

Fuck, my girlfriend was mad at me.

She can’t be mad at me.

I have to apologize.

-

y/n pov

I couldn’t sleep after he walked me home. I was worried sick. What was he doing? Was he safe? I texted him a few times from the burner phone he got me, but he didn’t answer.

I avoided the urge to text Nick or Chris. If I asked them one more time about this package they were going to rip my head off. I sighed as I looked over at the clock on my bedside table

3:33am

I really hope he was okay. I felt my eyes start to water. I had been staring at the ceiling for almost three hours. I can’t keep doing this. I cant keep killing myself over worrying if Matt was okay.

God I felt like I was going to be doing this the rest of my life.

I felt my phone buzz. I grabbed it quickly before flipping it open and answering it.

“Matt?” I said quickly. “Baby, why aren’t you asleep?” He asked slowly and softly through the phone. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Where are you? Are you safe? Matt are you okay?” I asked sitting up and turning on the light. He let out a breath through the phone.

“Woah” he said and then silence. “Matt?” I asked. He chuckled a little bit. “You turned your light on, had it always been that bright? I feel like it’s the sun” he laughed through the phone.

I stood up.

“Are you outside?” I whispered as I walked over to my window and pushed the curtains to the side and saw him leaned up against one of the trees in my backyard.

“Hi” he whispered. I sighed of relief, he was okay.

“Matt, just get up here” I smiled shaking my head. He leaned his head against the tree and sighed. “I tried, it’s hard” he said shaking his head. My eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” I asked staring down at him. He sat down against the tree. I stared down at him. “Are you high?” I asked looking at him. He shook his head looking up at me.

“Matthew” I stated. He sighed. “I want to apologize” He said through the phone. I shook my head. “You already did” I stated.

“Can you just come get me?” He asked looking up at me. I turned to look at my door. “I don’t want to wake up my Dad” I said looking at him. He whined through the phone.

What did he take?

“Okay, okay. I’m coming” I said shutting off the phone and opening my door slowly, and walking down the steps before walking out my back door.

I walked quickly over to him, the cold air out here was brutal. He smiled up at me.

“My girlfriend is here” he stated smiling. I looked around him before looking back down. “Get up” I stated looking at him. He frowned.

“Not if you’re gonna be mad at me” He shook his head then closed his eyes. I sighed squatting down in front of him. “Matt, stand up. Just come inside” I sighed. He looked at me but he looked like he was looking through me.

I grabbed his arm as I attempted to pull him to his feet. He groaned as he stood up and fell onto me, wrapping his arms around me.

“What did you take?” I whispered as I tried to keep him standing. He just hummed against me. “It’s Chris’s fault” He mumbled. I shook my head as I pushed him up and started to walk back inside as he leaned against me.

We successfully made it up the stairs, him stumbling slightly before I pushed into my room. He sighed pushing off me and walking over to my bed before falling against it, looking up at the ceiling.

I walked over to him, sitting next to him. He glanced over at me. His pupils were huge. I looked down at his face.

“Are you trying to kiss me?” He whispered. I just looked down at him.

“You didn’t” I said my heart breaking. He swallowed looking away from me. I sat back up biting my lip and turning away from him, feeling tears come up to my eyes.

“Matt” I shook my head. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me and laid agaisnt my lap. “I’m sorry” He whispered. I shook my head and pushed him off of me.

“Y/n, no” He whined reaching for me again. I shook my head. “You came to the chief of police’s house high on Coke?” I spat looking down at him. He looked away from me and clenched his jaw.

“I didn’t know where else to go” he mumbled. I scoffed looking down. “Maybe to your house? I’m calling Chris” I said standing up. I held out my hand. “Give me your phone” I said. He shook his head.

“I didn’t mean to” he whispered. I shook my head as I looked at him. “You didn’t mean to?” I asked. He sighed looking up at me.

“Colors are so bright” he said looking around my room. I just watched him as his eyes scanned me. “Your aura is blue” He stated looking at me holding his hands up. I raised my eyebrows.

“My aura?” I asked staring down at him. He nodded closing his eyes and leaning back. “Pretty blue” he mumbled. “Just like you” he smiled. I closed my eyes and pinched my nose.

There was no way I was dealing with this right now.

“Phone, now” I stated holding out my hand. He whined and rolled over. “Matthew” I stated harshly. “You’re always mad at me. Stop being mad at me” He said his face pressed into a pillow.

I tried everything in me not to strangle him.

“Maybe if you didn’t do stupid shit and lie to me. I wouldn’t be mad” I stated down at him. He groaned.

“Can you not yell at me right now?” He mumbled. I sighed and placed my hand on his head. “Do you hate me?” He mumbled. I sighed.

“Sometimes” I whispered. He groaned into the pillow.

Okay, he's high on a drug he's never taken before. He's probably freaking out. I need to calm down a bit. I took in a deep breath and looked down at him.

"Baby" I whispered, he hummed. "Can I please see your phone?" I asked as he lifted his head to look at me. He blinked at me. "No" He said looking at me. I glared at him.

"You're so pretty, come sit on me" He said pulling me on top of him. I smiled and shook my head. "Matt" I sighed as he ran his hands up my leg. "You don't know how hard it was to deny that blowjob earlier" He sighed looking at me. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"You're high off coke Matthew, If you thinking i'm giving you a blowjob you're fucking crazy" I said looking down at him. He sighed. "I know, I was just saying" He mumbled.

"You're lucky I don't slap the shit out of you" I whispered looking down at him. He rolled his eyes. I reached into his pocket before pulling out his phone.

"No" He whined attempting to grab it back, but he was out of it, not even getting close to my hand as I shook my head and unlocked his phone. I clicked on Chris's contact before holding it up to ear as it rang.

Matt whined beneath me and tried to get out from under me and I just shook my head. Chris picked up the phone.

"Matt? Where the hell are you?" Chris said quickly over the phone. I looked down at Matt as he whined putting his hands against his face.

"Christopher, Why is my boyfriend high off coke?" I said angrily over the phone. He paused from my voice. "What?" Chris breathed. He had no idea why he was high either. I sighed.

"Where is he? Where are you?" He asked quickly. I looked down at Matt who was now just staring at the ceiling, staring aimlessly.

"He showed up at my house high out of his mind and his pupils are as big as his fucking eyes. Why the fuck is he on coke Chris?" I asked again. Chris groaned through the phone. "I'm coming to get him" He mumbled quickly.

"Answer the question" I said through gritted teeth. "Fuck Y/n, I don't know. I didn't tell him to take coke" He yelled over the phone. "Give him the phone" Chris said quickly. I sighed before looking down at Matt.

"Matt" I stated making him glance at me. I moved off of him and he whined, trying to pull me back to him but he failed. "Chris wants to talk to you" I said handing him the phone. He sighed as I pressed the phone to his ear and he took it out of my hand.

He just listened for a minute. "Chris, I don't know" Matt sighed closing his eyes. "Yes, I did. He was an asshole" He said making me furrow my eyebrows. "He made me" He whispered. "Matt what is he saying?" I asked looking at him. He glanced at me as he listened to the phone.

"No, I wanna stay here" He frowned. I shook my head. "You can't stay here" I said looking at him. He whined and closed his eyes. "Okay" He breathed through the phone before turning it off and throwing it on the bed.

"Matt, who made you do what?" I asked pulling his arm. "Y/n, do you think I wanted to do this to myself?" He groaned rubbing his eyes. "I have a brain, I knew you would kill me" He shook his head. I sighed and shook my head before sitting up and pulling his head into my lap.

He sighed as he laid against my thighs breathing heavily as we waited for Chris.

-

matt pov

I groaned as I rolled over on the bed and reached for my phone, but it wasn't there. Wow I felt like shit. I sat up before seeing Nick and Chris staring down at me, making me jump slightly.

"What the fuck happened?" Nick said glaring down at me. I shook my head rubbing my eyes. "What are you-" I started to say. "Last night. you did Coke?" Chris said glaring at me. Memories flooded through my brain. My eyes went wide.

"Fuck" I said shaking my head. I stood up walking over to them before I felt Nick push me. "Are you stupid?" He yelled at me. I glared at him before pushing him back against the wall. "This is your fucking fault!" I yelled at him. He pushed me off of him.

"Slim wouldn't let me leave until I did, said he had to make sure we weren't playing him" I said through gritted teeth. Nick sighed and looked down. Chris just looked at me.

"Y/n was pretty worried last night" Chris said crossing his arms over his chest. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him. "What are you talking about? She was fine after I walked her home. I didn't see her after that" I said shaking my head. Chris and Nick glanced at each other and then back at me. My heart dropped.

"I didn't see her again after that right?" I asked loudly stepping towards them. Chris held up his hands. "Y/n called me from your phone last night. You went to her house after you dropped off the package. We started thinking something went wrong when you didn't come back" Chris explained.

My mouth fell open as stepped back, placing my hands on my forehead. "Oh my god" I breathed. I looked up at Chris. "This is your fault. I never wanted to deliver that damn package in the first place. If you don't remember my girlfriend's dad is the chief of fucking police" I yelled at him.

He glared at me.

"Yes you did. You fucking agreed to it, forgot to deliver it and you took the fucking coke. This is no one's fault but you're own. And yes I am well aware of who your girlfriend's dad is, you showed up there high as shit you absolute dumbass!" He screamed back at me. I sighed looking down. I shook my head.

I can't believe I did this. I am so fucked.

-

y/n pov

I sat on the curb as the sun started to set. It was a little past 7pm on Friday. I didn't tell Matt to meet me here, but I knew he would come. Because It was Friday at the train tracks. It's when we always met.

Don't get me wrong I was furious with him, only because he was leaving me in the dark. It wasn't fair. He's never kept secrets from me. I don't know why he's starting now.

I heard footsteps coming up from behind me, the crunching of the gravel beneath their feet. I didn't turn to look at them as I threw rocks in front of me. I heard Matt sigh as he sat down next to me. I didn't look at him as he turned to me. I just kept throwing rocks.

"Y/n" He stated. I didn't look at him, I just dropped the rocks in my hand as he looked at me. "You came" I breathed. He let out a breath. "Y/n, I'll never not come" He said making me look up at him. He looked sadly down at me.

I felt tears brim to my eyes.

"Matt, you scared the shit out of me" My voice broke. He sighed as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. He kissed the top of my head as silent tears and shaky breaths came out of me. He squeezed me tight.

"Matt, you're scaring me" I breathed slightly. He pulled back before wiping the tears under my eyes. "I love you" He whispered kissing the top of my head. "I love you too but what are you doing?" I asked shaking my head. He sighed looking down.

"Talk to me, I'm your girlfriend" I said shaking my head. He glanced up at me. "I can't" He breathed. I turned my head looking away. "Y/n, stop" He breathed pulling me back to look at him.

"I wanna-" He stopped and closed his eyes. "I'm just in it with some guys and--" He paused. "I can't tell you what I was doing but I promise what happened that night will never happen again" He shook his head. I closed my eyes. In the dark again.

"Is it because of my dad?" I asked softly. He sighed. "Because I know that Chris and Nick--They always look at me differently because of it--but--but you never did and I don't understand--" I breathed as I started to cry again. He shook his head as he pulled me into him.

"Shh, Shh" He whispered as I cried against him. He ran his hand through my hair, attempting calm me down. "It's not because of your dad, it's because of your safety. My one job is to keep you safe and that's what I'm doing. I am so sorry that you had to see that. I promise you will never have to deal with it ever again okay?" He said pulling me back.

I swallowed as I looked at him. "I just feel so in the dark" I whispered looking at him. He nodded. "It's better that way" He said looking at me, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. I looked down.

"It's punishment enough seeing you like this to know to never do that again" He whispered as he scanned my face. I smiled sadly looking down.

"I don't like this" I whispered. He nodded. "I know you don't" He sighed looking down at me. I looked up at him. "Do you promise to never do that to me again?" I asked looking at him. He nodded as he looked at me. "I won't ever scare you like that again" He whispered. I took a deep breath as I stared out towards the tracks.

"Winter formal is coming up" I breathed. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me. I glanced over at him. "What?" He smiled at me, making me smile and wipe my eyes. "Winter formal" I breathed again looking at him. He stared blankly at me just blinking. I shrugged.

"It would be fun to go" I said biting my lip. He chuckled slightly. "Since when do you care about stupid school dances?" He asked shaking his head. I shook my head and shrugged. "I don't know" I whispered. He just looked at me.

"It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to get dressed up and stuff" I whispered looking down at my feet. He closed his eyes hanging his head. "I've never seen you in a skirt let alone a dress" He stated. He was right. I never get dressed up.

"Yeah I know but--I don't know." I shrugged. I blinked over at him. "Don't you want to feel like a normal teenager for once?" I asked. He shook his head.

"In a room with our high school with a bunch of sweaty, horny teenagers who don't know how to dance and are drunk as shit? No I don't" He shook his head. I just looked back down at the ground moving a few rocks on the ground and nodded.

He let out a breath and groaned.

"Y/n, your dad wouldn't even let me take you" He said as I looked at the ground. I shook my head. "No yeah, I know it was stupid. Just forget I said anything" I mumbled. He just stared down at me.

"Y/n" He breathed grabbing my arm, I pulled back. "I said I know okay?" I said looking up at him. He just looked at me. I shook my head and turned away. He stood up. I didn't look up at him.

"Y/n" He stated. I blinked at the ground. "Baby" He whispered. I glanced up at him. "Come here please" He whispered from above me. I sighed before standing up. He wrapped him arms around me and pulled me into his chest. I sighed as I laid against his chest.

"I love you more than you could ever know" He whispered against the top of my head. I closed my eyes and swallowed. He pushed his hands up my back under my shirt as he rubbed his thumb against the bottom of my back.

"I know" I whispered. He chuckled and leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine. I smiled softly as he looked at me. "Tell me you love me too" He whispered. I rolled my eyes and pushed off of him. His face dropping.

"Make me" I smiled before turning and running into the other direction. I heard footsteps fast behind me as I ran laughing. I barely made it on the other side of the old abandoned building before I screamed from him grabbing me from behind and lifting me off my feet. I laughed as he set me down and we both tumbled on the ground.

He laughed as I struggled against his grip on me. I tried to catch my breath as a I turned to look at him. He sighed smiling before laying his head against the ground looking at me. I just smiled at him. He leaned forward before catching his lips in between mine, kissing me passionatly. I smiled against his lips as I pressed my hands against his face pulling him closer to me.

He gripped my hips as he rolled over on top of me. He leaned down as he kissed my jaw and down my neck. He smiled against my skin, as he pushed my shirt running his hands up my stomach. I sighed.

"Your hands are warm" I whispered as he bit down on my neck. He hummed as his hands came over my bra. "Matt" I sighed pushing his hands down. "What?" He smiled as he lifted his head back up to me, pecking my lips.

"We're in public" I smiled up at him. He lifted his head and looked around. "Hello?" He yelled making my eyes go wide. "Helllo??" He yelled again. I punched him in the chest making him groan and lean forward.

"Matthew" I whispered looking at him with wide eyes. He smiled and shook his head as he connected our lips again, chasing after my kiss. He pushed his tongue into my mouth and I wrapped my legs around his back.

"I wanna marry you" He mumbled against my lips. I pulled back. "What?" I asked looking at him. "I wanna marry you" He whispered again looking down at me. I just blinked at him. "What?" He smiled pushing my hair behind my ear. I smiled and shook my head.

"I didn't know that" I whispered looking at him. He rolled his eyes. "How did you not know that?" He asked shaking his head. I shrugged. "You never said it" I stated. He shook his head down at me. "I didn't have to" He whispered. I smiled pushing his brown hair out of his face as he peered down at me.

"How long have you know that?" I asked looking at him. He looked off breathing out. "I think it was when you put a live snake into Sabrinia Scottland's backpack when she left a love note in my locker in the eighth grade" He chuckled above me. I closed my eyes and scrunched my nose.

"That wasn't me" I mumbled making him chuckle. "Yes it was" He laughed. I sighed opening my eyes. He smiled as he rubbed his thumb across my cheek. "I was never subtle was I?" I asked looking up at him. He shook his head smiling.

"No, you weren't" He smiled making me laugh. "Where did you get a live snake?" He asked looking down at me.

"Again, do you want to keep questioning me or can we make out?" I asked looking up at him with raised my eyebrows. "The second choice" He said quickly. I smiled. "Good choice pretty boy" I mumbled as he pressed his lips against mine again.

He ran his hands down my body as he kissed me. He lifted my shirt before kissing down my neck and then down my chest. I squirmed beneath him as he kissed slowly down my stomach.

"Matt" I breathed closing my eyes as I arched against him. He hummed as he started to unbutton my jeans. I breathed in.

That's when we heard voices down the tracks. Matt froze and lifted his head. I sat up at looked at him. His eyes were turned to the tracks. "Matt?" I stated, my heart starting to beat. He didn't look at me.

"Matt, is it cops?" I asked looking at him. He stayed frozen before standing up quickly looking down at me. "Get up" He said sternly looking at me. I jumped up and pulled down my shirt and buttoned my jeans back. He grabbed my hand before pulling me in the opposite direction down the path.

"Matt who was it?" I asked looking up at him as he dragged me with him. He didn't look at me as his jaw was clenched as he closed his eyes. "Matt" I said stopping and turning towards him, pulling my hand back.

"Y/n walk now" He said looking down at me with hard eyes. I shook my head. "No, stop keeping shit from me I'm tired of--"

"Sturniolo!"

Matt closed his eyes and let out a breath. My eyes went wide as I heard voices walking up to us. I turned and Matt grabbed my arm and pushed me behind him. It was a couple of guys. I swallowed as I looked up at Matt.

"Matt" I whispered barley audible. "Just don't say anything and stay behind me" He said barley moving his lips. I swallowed as they approched us.

"Not gonna say hello?" One of the boys asked smiling at Matt. Matt just looked at him, with a hard jaw. "That's not Eastside curtiosy" He smiled as he stopped in front of us.

"Didn't see you. We were just leaving" Matt breathed looking at him. I glanced to the other guy standing next to the one speaking to Matt. His eyes were fixated on me. I glanced at the ground.

The other's eyes glanced to mine and then back to Matt. Matt glared at him. "And who's this?" He smiled at Matt pointing to me. I felt my face drain.

"Like I said, we were just leaving" He said again. The dude stared down Matt. "It's rude to not introduce your friends Matt" He said staring at Matt.

"I'm Pallo" He stated holding out his hand for me to shake. Matt stepped in front of me, pushing me back slightly. Pallo raised his eyebrows to Matt's reaction and lowered his hand. I swallowed.

"Oh? Didn't realize she was taken. This your little girlfriend?" He asked smiling at Matt. I could feel Matt's anger radiating off of him. I looked up at him, wanting to reach out to calm him down but didn't.

"We're not here to cause any trouble. We're on good terms as of yesterday" Matt stated looking at him. He raised his eyebrows. "Oh are we? Did Slim tell you that?" He asked. My eyebrows furrowed at Matt.

The guy behind him eyes never left mine. I looked at the ground. "I know her" He spoke. Matt's eyes snapped to his as he looked at me. He looked at Pallo. "That's the chief's daughter" He said pointing to me. I felt my heart stop.

Pallo raised his eyebrows as he looked at Matt. "You're fucking the chief's daughter Sturniolo?" He asked looking at him. Matt clenched his fists. I closed my eyes. This was not good.

"She's not Eastside blood. She's fair game" Pallo said shaking his head at Matt as he reached into his pocket. Matt stepped forward crossing his arms over his chest as he approached Pallo. "She's not fair game" He stated coldly.

I let out a shaky breath. "She can't be here" Pallo said smiling at Matt.

"She's with me and we were just leaving" Matt said staring him down. I looked up at Matt. Pallo nodded slowly before glancing at me up and down. I crossed my arms and looked away.

"She's a fine little thing" Pallo smiled at Matt. Matt clenched his jaw so hard I thought he was going to break a tooth. "Be a shame if something happened to her" Pallo said stepping up to Matt. Matt peered down at him.

"You forget who me and my brothers are Pallo" He stated down at him. Pallo looked to the side and swallowed. "You forget what would happen if Slim found out about her" He mumbled.

"Slim and I are good. That's not a threat" He shook his head. The other dude stepped towards me, making Matt grab him by the shirt quickly pulling him towards him.

"I could kill you in 100 different ways and make it look like an accident" He mumbled to the dude. My mouth fell open. Matt roughly let him go. Pallo stepped back.

"Best be on your way Matt, the sun's about to set" He said staring at Matt. I looked between them as they walked away. Matt turned back to me and grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I didn't say anything as he dragged me away and out of the tracks.

sorry was this alot

tag list: @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @miastromboli @secret-sturniolo @sturnsclutter @sturniolodreamz @paper-crab @chrisolivia4l @mwah0mwah @recklesssturniolo @ejswift @kitaysworld @meg-sturniolo @nickmillersn1gf @fr3shl0ve @adrianaturnedpretty @oversturn @ghostgurlswrld @flowerxbunnie @ilytrinsworld @lustfulslxt @kiarastromboli @gemofthenight @blahbel668 @haunted-headset @sturnybabes @bethsturn @d3adlyclassrat @sturnybabes @mattsbitch @chrisluvbot @nickenthusiast @sturniolossmut @biimpanicking

[just-some-random-blogger]

Accidental Targ

Scene III: i told you to hold my hand! | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: After coming to terms with the fact you were in King's Landing some two thousand years before your birth, you get reunited with your friend and try to manifest your way back to the present. For the meantime, Harwin Strong is your bodyguard.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, very sus and innappropriate boss-employee dynamics, low key sugar daddy!otto hightower vibes, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS I DID IT. I FINISHED IT 😫 Also, its come to my attention that perhaps the way i planned out everything geographically is ??? bad but no its not just roll with it AND!! remember yall voted for him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i have a feeling you didnt read the prompt fully but whatever HAHAHAA i honestly have no idea where i meant to take this fic, so ???? enjoy?? HAHHAAH

Shoot me if I ever say it again, but for now: gods bless capitalism, specifically for it desecrating a national landmark.

Where once I was one of the people who protested against the building of the High Garden Centre, girl, was I thankful that the old ruins of the fucking Red Keep laid there as a little ol' artsy featurette.

"What's that sound?" Daemon asks as we stand from our spot.

I turn to my side, never before so relieved to hear and see, no more than two blocks away, a rave spilling out of a club, the very one Libby and I were at before we got into this shit show. "That, my prince, is called EDM."

I hurriedly run to Libby's side to pick her up, but Daemon does that himself. He get down and pulls the blue haired woman on his back, and I help him. At the same time, I feel a buzz from my satchel.

My phone!

Daemon watches me as I frantically claw for my device. The amount of texts and call notifications that pop up on my screen is overwhelming. I decide to just let it go off and grab Daemon's arm, "come on."

We walk down from the ruins, shifting through the shrubs and foliage around it. I catch the sight a mall cop and feel agitated when he looks over. He couldn't care less though, the site was open to the public after all, and with a literal club being right there, we were the least of his worries.

We pass the rusty chain fence surrounding it, and draw near Harrenhal (the club). Once we're there, a bunch of men hoot and holler at me. I ignore them as they say something about my 'Targaryen' hair and it dawns on me they were probably calling me princess and lady because I was still in a fucking Targaryen era dress.

Still, I ignore the stupid fucks as they ask to see my pretty skirt, opting to walk faster instead. I was horrified by how loud and violent Daemon's scream was.

He shouted so gutturally that I couldn't understand a lick of The High Valyrian flaming out of his mouth. The vein on his neck popped out and I literally had to hold him back from charging and dropping Libby.

"Daemon, please!" I whimper, heart racing, "Libby's still on you-"

"Grab her and I'll fucking ram steel down- COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT AGAIN. SAY THAT-"

Steel? I look to his belt. Fucking seven hells, he brought Dark Sister?

I look back at him with wide eyes, feeling nauseous now that I've caught how maddened he looked.

In a panic, I gently pat his face while pulling his arm back, "Daemon, please."

He doesn't look at me.

My voice gets softer and my eyes water, "Daemon, I beg you."

He huffs and clenches his jaw, still not sparing me a glance.

"We don't have time for them," I whisper and keep my hand on his cheek, "I'm just going to connect to the club's wifi from here, then I'll can call us an Ubor."

Daemon does not tear his gaze from the men, who eventually waddle away to whatever sewer they came from, still hollering bullshit as they did.

"Kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot nyetodha aōha irosh," Daemon mutters. I will not forget to slit your throats.

The relief that washed over me was unparalleled when I booked an Ubor set to arrive in 3 minutes. I whimper and rub my eyes, "okay, not long now."

Daemon finally looks at me, still visibly pissed, and adjusts Libby on his back.

I wipe my face, "we're just going to get in the c-" Fuck... I should probably prepare him for the car.

"Okay," I raise my hands, "we're going to get in a metal..." I motion to the space, "... there's going to be a- a- carriage? But with no horse... but and when I get in, you just get in with me, okay?"

Daemon's expression is now one of confusion.

I sigh and place a hand on his shoulder, "it's going to be okay."

His lips curl, "... OK."

I screw my eyes shut and shake my head rapidly, "I mean alright. Alright! ALRIGHT!"

Daemon takes in my visible frustration and nods slowly, "OK."

To be honest, Daemon was a pretty good Ubor passenger, save for the fact his sword nearly cut me, Libby, him and the fucking car seats when he tried to sit without removing his scabbard first. We were lucky the driver seemed to be used to... ren fair people.

He also seemed to be used to driving people to the ER. I was too relieved to think realize how fucked up that kinda is in the moment. Needless to say, I gave him 5 stars and an extra tip.

With Dark Sister in my grip and Libby in Daemon's arms, we finally made it to Lannister Medical Center.

The moment we get there, I run inside the ER and break down at the first nurse I see. I infodump everything, how Libby got attacked, how Harwin lost her, how some maesters tried to help us, how she lost a lot of blood, how I'm afraid she's going to die, how Daemon ended up carrying her, and I just keep going up until I saw Libby's blue hair scattered on a stretcher and the nurse told me to sit down.

I didn't have much fight in me left to argue, so I sit myself down on the bench. But then I see the nurse speaking to Daemon, who, seemed to be explaining what had happened, and I panic all over again.

Before I could stand though, another nurse was there to accommodate me. He did a checkup on me, asked me how I was feeling, and asked if I needed anything to calm down.

I told him I was fine and proceeded to answer his other questions. Daemon eventually came to my side and eyed him.

The nurse gives me a nod and offers a smile, "you seem to be physically well. Just let yourself relax. The doctors have your friend; they'll do their best to help her."

"Thank you."

The nurse nods again. He gives me and Daemon one last look before walking off.

I grab Daemon's hand once it's just the two of us. I look up and shudder, "we did it."

He looks down at me, violet eyes solemn. He brings a hand to my cheek and swipes at my cheek, "ȳdra daor limagon."

"I don't know what that means," I mumble.

"I said don't cry, pretty girl," he kneels in front of me, "worrying will not save your friend."

I stare at him, feeling my heart race and belly roll because of the look he had. He brushes my silver hair back behind my shoulders, only intensifying the flurry in my stomach. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly, my stomach growls. Oh.

Daemon turns his eyes to my belly as I clutch it.

"You want something to eat... prince?"

Daemon reaches a hand out, "lead the way."

I take his hand, grab Dark Sister, and hand it to him. He fastens his scabbard as we exit the ER and I go through my satchel, fishing for my wallet. Just before I get it, I remember that I blew most of my money on the Ubor.

"Fuck," I curse and turn to Daemon, "I don't have enough money."

Daemon rests his hand on his sword and simply stairs.

"I don't have coin," I clarify. I look around the road and figure our chances of riding a bus at this hour was nonexistent. I give him a look, "do you mind walking home with me?"

Daemon raises a brow, "as opposed to swimming home with you?"

I raise my brows and sigh, "Daemon-"

"Lead the way," he nods and points, "I am not one to tire easily."

I nod and slice through air to drive a point, "okay. No matter what happens," I reach out to him, "you have to hold my hand, okay?"

He looks at my hand then my face, his violet eyes sparkle with amusement. He chuckles but he links his fingers between mine (overkill if you ask me). I'm glad goosebumps don't form.

Daemon smiles softly, "you take me for a child, riña?"

"This child knows how to cross the street," I squeeze his hand harder than necessary and begin to walk off, "I'm not sure you do, kekepa." Grandfather.

Daemon laughs, full-on throwing his head back, "how hard is it to cross? You jus-"

His words go dry when an empty school bus passes us. He was so stunned by the yellow contraption, I had to tug his arm to continue walking.

Just then, a Megatron looking-ass truck drives down the street. I hiss and curse the 14 wheeler for emitting such horrible smoke, eyeing it as it drives away.

Meanwhile, I catch the prince's stunned reaction and almost feel bad for finding it funny. Almost.

We arrive at my apartment about 20 minutes later.

I press the elevator button and turn to Daemon, "don't put your arm between the door, okay?"

Daemon gives me a look.

The elevator opens and we step inside. Daemon gives me a look, "we have lifts you know."

I pull my head back, "you do?"

"At the wall," Daemon retorts as the elevator door closes.

"The wall?" I think for a moment, "ahh. You're right."

A beat.

I knit my brows, "wait, you've been to the wall?"

"Of course I've been to the wall."

The moment we get to my place, relief washes over me. I take my shoes off and scoop my hair in front, "fucking rip this dress off me."

Without a single thought between his brows, Daemon's reaches out to undo the ties at the back of my dress.

Just before he does this, I hear him walk in with his boots and nearly have a heart attack when he passes my threshold.

"OH, ABSOLUTELY NOT!" I turn and shove him back, "take your crusty boots off now!"

Daemon looks at me in bewilderment but walks back and doesn't protest as he removes his shoes. He places his shoes on the rack along with mine.

Not wasting time, he catches my arm and yanks me towards him. He spins me around and immediately undoes the back of my dress. I hastily begin to tug my dress down once I can.

He chuckles, "eager girl."

I rather literally jump out of my dress when I can. Pent-up rage overcomes me. I turn around and start kicking the dress away, releasing all my frustration and anger out on the thing. I curse 8th century Westeros and the Red Keep in particular and assault the object until I'm out of breath.

I proceed to jump onto my sofa and allow exhaustion to finally take over my being.

A second later, I catch Daemon's expression and realize, he probably thought he was going to get lucky when I asked him to basically strip me naked.

"Ahh," I get back on my feet, "sorry about," I point to the dress, "that."

Daemon says nothing as he steps closer. He reaches out for my hip and I swat his hand away. I shake my head, "this is my house."

He chuckles as I evade him on my way to the kitchen, which was not nearly as far as it should have been. The prince eyes the space, "yes. An impressive little room you've got." He follows after me, "I'd love to see the rest of it."

I look at him as I reach my fridge and open the door.

Daemon squints at the light that radiates on me. I cuss at the fact I only had cereal (no milk) and some vegetables that have gone bad. I grab the paper box and hand it to him. He blankly stares at it as I discard the vegetables.

Daemon's brows contort at he box, "it's cold."

I wash my hands, "yeah, refrigerators do that."

"Gra'-nola," he reads.

"Granola," I correct as I dry my hands on my shift.

I'm suddenly struck with the realization his grubby has have never seen antibacterial soap. I snatch the box from him and motion to the sink, "wash your hands."

Daemon turns to the sink and purses his lips.

For a second, I debate if he'd melt if he uses something antiseptic, but then figure I should still take my chances.

I prop the cereal on the counter and exemplify him how to wash his hands. Daemon, with slight reluctance, pumps some hand wash on his palm, opens the sink, and rinses.

I excitedly applaud him once he was done.

"A hand towel," he raises his dripping hands.

I look around even though I didn't have a hand towel. I shrug, "I usually just use my pants."

Daemon shakes his hands by the sink, "your pants?"

"Yeah. They're like clothes that you put on your-"

He grabs my shift and pulls me closer. He wipes his hands on it, "I know what pants are, princess."

I push him off and smirks as he dodges. I make a face, "well, I do so beg your pardon, your majesty."

The prince lets out a low laugh, "don't get too brazen, or I'll have you begging till you weep."

I quickly change the subject, "get that damned sword off your hip." I shoo him and rummage through my kitchen cabinets.

Daemon watches this and chuckles again. He tilts his head as he eyes my legs. He undoes his scabbard, sets it on my dining table, and pulls out a chair. He sits down just as I find a can of Sbam. Huzzah!

I grab a chopping board and open the can. A small smile spreads on the prince's lips as stares. But then, his expression drops when I shake, or try to shake, the processed meat out of the can.

I huff once I've succeeded, and I begin to cut the Sbam chunk, "you know this was in created during the war," I slice a piece, "it saved a lot of people from starvation."

"Which war?"

I freeze when he says this. I open my mouth then close it, unsure if recounting the details of world wars to him was a good idea, "you know what, never mind that."

Once I was done with the Sbam, I got a pan and heat it up. I get a plate and a loaf of bread, then place it on the table.

I click my tongue at the sight of his sword, "off the table!"

Daemon watches as I take Dark Sister and replace it with the plate and bread. I place the sword by the shoes and he takes the plastic wrapped bread. He feels the material and opens it, "what is this?"

"Bread," I retort, going back to my pan.

"No, I know that, but what's it wrapped with?"

I give him a quick look, "oh, plastic," I begin to cook the Sbam, "it's made of carbon... I think- I dunno- don't quote me on that."

Daemon opens the bag and takes a slice of bread. He pulls his had back, "it's sliced."

I beam and jump excitedly, "it is! It's sliced bread! Betty White is older than sliced bread! And so are you!"

Daemon ignores this as he sniffs the piece in his hand. He takes a bite then and makes a face, "why does it taste like that?"

"Like what?"

His brows knit and his eyes narrow, "like a pretender."

I burst into a laugh. I flip over the Sbam with a spatula, "imitation bread?"

"It wants so earnest to be bread," he pushes the loaf away and shakes his head, "but it clearly isn't."

I laugh even harder.

He snorts at my reaction. He smiles as leans back on his chair. A few moments later, he grows serious, "you ought to dismiss your royal baker."

Oh. My lips twitch and I chuckle under my breath, "ah, yes. My royal baker. Yes, I will dismiss my royal baker for making horrible sliced bread. Yes."

The Sbam was now cooked. I present it to him on a plate, "bon app-- ... I hope you like it."

Daemon leans forward to scrutinize the dish.

I press my lips into a line as I sit down next to him. I take a slice of imitation bread and fold in a slice of Sbam. I realize just how hungry I was after taking a bite. Through half-full mouth, I mutter, "it's good."

Daemon watches me and follows suit. He takes some bread and Sbam, then chomps.

I stop chewing. Wait, what if he gets an instant heart attack because his living fossil-self can't handle processed food?

He licks his lips and chews. I begin to grow more agitated as he makes a face.

"It's delicious," Daemon says, going in for another bite.

My agitation turns into shock, "really?!"

"Well, it's no roasted pork, but it'll suffice," he mutter between chews.

I let out a soft laugh and nod, "I'm glad it's enough for the prince."

"I'm honored the princess herself made it for me."

Aw, fuck. Who's gonna tell him?

There is a knock on my door. At the same time, my phone rings.

Daemon is alerted by the sound and I dash away to finally answer my phone.

"What is that?" the prince asks.

"It's my phone. Remember? You can call people with it."

Daemon narrows his eyes as I rummage my bag for my device. The knocking on the door gets louder.

I turn to the door, "just a minute."

I find my phone and feel my stomach drop at the caller ID. The banging on the door persists.

I answer the phone and head for the door, "hello?"

"Fucking hells!" the voice is worn and apparently worried, "where the fuck have you bee-"

"It's not you outside, is it?" I cut him off as I head for the door.

"What?! No! I'm in the fucking North, dammit! Your friends have been calling me nonstop, since fucking Sunday! -"

I open the door and my face falls. Standing before me is a man in a dark teal suit; his tie was loose, his stubble was thick, and he held what looked like a dozen bags in his hands.

"- You and Libby have been fucking missing for days! Where-"

"Mr. Hightower," I lower my phone as the man on the other end continues to chastise me.

Otto Hightower looks me up and down, then sighs, "out of the way."

Without another thought, I step back to let him in. He expertly slips out of his leather shoes then heads towards my sofa. He places all the bags on the coffee table. I follow after him.

I hear my name being shouted from my phone. I close the door and follow after Otto.

I listen in on the call again and I hiss when the voice pierces my ear drum, "Jon, calm down."

"CALM DOWN!? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!?"

I begin to panic when Daemon walks over.

"Who is that?" Otto asks me. He notices Daemon, then makes a face, "who are you?"

I look at Otto, then Daemon, and dash over to the prince, grabbing his hand. I watch in real time the recognition and disbelief that floods the Targaryen's features as he watches the other slowly remove his tie.

"Libby and I got stuck in the ren-fair!" I reply to my phone.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING CALL?!"

"MY PHONE DIED, JON!" I shout back a lie.

Otto's brow raises. He looks at me and mouths, "Jon?"

I ignore that and groan "LOOK! I'm fine! Libby's-- ... Libby's," I whisper softly, "in the ER-"

"THE ER-"

"I'M TAKING CARE OF HER!"

"WHY THE FUCK IS SHE IN THE ER?!"

"Libby's in the ER?" Otto mutters.

I raise a finger to answer my phone, "Jon, please. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

He screams my name and I have to rip my phone away from my ear again. I vaguely hear him rant about how I should explain why his sister is in the fucking ER.

"Jon, Jon, I love you but I have to go," I quip and immediately end the call. I turn on airplane mode and throw my phone on to the couch.

I release a breath and find myself pulling a smile as the man in the suit eyes me. He's about to speak, but Daemon beats him to it.

"What was that?" the prince asks, pulling me by the arm to face him.

I turn to him and make a face. It's Otto that answers for me, "her ex boyfriend."

I turn to Otto as he tilts his head and raises a brow, as if daring me to correct him.

I do, "my best friend's brother."

Daemon eyes Otto; the latter makes a face, "who used to your lover," he crosses his arms, "I'm offended you take his calls but not mine."

"And who are you?" Daemon hisses, stepping towards him.

Without missing a beat, Otto meets his gaze and scoffs, "who are you?"

Daemon's pulls his chin back and chuckles dryly. His expression screamed FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.

I jump in front of him, my back presses his chest. I give a nervous laugh, "Mr. High- Director- Mr. Director- sir. This is Daemon."

Otto watches as I grip Daemon's hands behind me.

"And Daemon," I barely look at him over my shoulder, "this is... my... employe-"

"Otto Hightower," he cuts me off, bringing his hand into his breast pocket, "Director and CFO of King's Landing Holdings."

I wince, fuck.

"King's Landing?!" Daemon laughs out loud.

Otto produces a business card.

"It's a company!" I turn around and wave my hands, "it's a company! An establishment!"

Daemon does not tear his eyes away from him.

"He's my employer!" I explain.

Otto offers a piece of paper between his fingers.

The prince looks at it and slightly pushes me away, "what's he doing here then?"

"That's hardly any of your business," Otto retorts, tucking his business card back into his pocket.

Daemon laughs and finally turns to me. He mutters something in High Valyrian along the lines of 'let me do something' and 'stabbing'. I frantically shake my hand and push him back.

He thankfully relents and I sit him back down on my dining table.

My relief is fleeting when I realize the only reason Daemon didn't refute was because Otto was trailing right after me. My stomach drops when I feel a hand on my back.

Otto is right behind me. He places a few of the paper bags he brought on the table. He opens them, "I bought you dinner."

I turn to him, intent to tell him he shouldn't have.

"Amongst other things," he adds.

Daemon barks, "we have dinner."

"How did you even know I was home?" I say at the same time.

Otto's eyes flick to him, to the plate of Sbam on the table. His face is blank as looks back to me. He decides to remove his coat jacket, "I suppose you'd-" eyes Daemon, "-also think a candle equal to a campfire."

"Mister Hightower," I helplessly mutter.

He hangs his jacket on the backrest. He turns to me, "and you were missing--"

My expression sours.

"-- what did you expect me to do? I obviously utilized my connections. I'm offended you'd ask me such a thing."

Daemon mutters something in High Valyrian again.

"Of course, I had come see you myself," he looks at me through his lashes as rolls up his sleeves. My eyes dart to his sleeve tattoos and arm veins. When I begin to scrutinize the hairs on his skin, I realize I've stared to long.

In a panicked frenzy, I begin to unpack one of the paper bags. He, himself, brings out a stack of food containers and places them on the table.

The smell alone makes my stomach grumble.

Otto steps away and comes back with plates and cutlery. He places one plate in front of me, and has a prolonged stare at Daemon before placing the other in front of Daemon. He says, "I would hate for prince Daemon to be reduced to eating Sbam for dinner."

My expression drops. Daemon does not move an inch.

Otto turns to me and pulls out the chair. I take a moment before sitting down, because, really, did I have any other choice?

Otto opens the containers one by one and my mouth waters as I see lobster, lamb, and lemon cakes. He serves me meat and veggies, "I would assume you're not hurt like your friend."

I watch as he places food on my plate. I gulp before responding, "I'm just... tired."

"Then, I would also assume you'll not be attending work tomorrow," he takes my hand, putting the utensils in them. He scrapes a chair to my side and sits down next to me, urging me to eat with a motion.

I look at Mr. Hightower, "oh no- I will! I will-"

"You won't," he raises a hand, "see to it you're well rested."

I turn to my plate, feeling a flurry in my stomach over his words.

"Are you not going to serve your prince?" Daemon cuts in, raising his brows.

The lamb I was about to eat drops back to my plate.

The two glare, as if willing the other to spontaneously combust.

Before anything else could happen, I stand and reach out to Daemon's plate. I squeak when both grab me by the wrist.

My throat tightens.

My heart races when Daemon stands, "release her."

Otto raises his brows and tilts his head, "sit back down."

I rip my wrists out of their grips. Thankfully, neither put up a fight.

They stare at each other for what felt like ages. My agitation rockets when I see my boss begin to fidget with his hands the way he did when he was annoyed and ready to do something drastic.

I give Daemon a panicked look and grab his wrist, "kostilus." Please.

Daemon clenches his fist.

I continue to beg him until he sits.

I squeak when he grabs my chair by the seat and pulls me towards him. He mutters, "kesan daor emagon ao va bona run." I will not have you near that thing.

I turn to Director Hightower; I could see his annoyance building.

Fuck.

"Miste-" "Enjoy your meal then," he speaks as he stands. He grabs his coat and points, "I've bought some first aid things. I'm sure your friend can help you put that away."

I move to stand but Daemon stops me. He looks up at Otto in disgust, "do mind the steel contraptions on your way out."

I snap at Daemon, eyeing him hotly. He places a hand over my legs, ensuring I do not evade him. I watch as Mr. Hightower heads for the door, and in a split second decision, I turn to the prince and kiss him on the lips.

He is evidently taken aback, but it only takes him another second to get into it. Once he's put his guard down, I rip away from him and chase after my boss just as he exits my apartment.

"MR. HIGHTOWER!"

Otto turns around. I huff as I meet him just outside my door, "I'm really sorry about him. He's... he's just like that."

"You're not responsible for the actions of others," he retorts, nonchalant.

"I know. But still-"

"You are responsible for the company you keep," he adds.

I brush my silver hair back, "and you're not responsible for my well-being."

He snorts and shakes his head, "I'm your superior."

I press my lips into a thin line, deciding not to get into this conversation right now, "that, you are, Director."

We stare at each other for a moment. I examine his well-ironed suit, noticing how he didn't bother to fix his tie or buttons any more.

"I'll-"

"Is he not-" Daemon kicks the door open.

My eyes widen, "DAEMON-"

"-fucking gone yet?!" he points Dark Sister in an offensive stance. I yelp when he swings his weapon and scratches the door.

Otto's fight or flight instincts kick in and he takes flight down the hall.

"DAEMON-" I scream. I duck down and grab him by the torso, "STOP IT!"

Daemon screams out in High Valyrian. He laughs and lowers his sword, "yeah, you better run."

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt. 69)

(Sneek Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The pack meet with moonbyul to discuss terms.

Tags: Violence, Angst with the happy ending on the horizon, fluff if you squint, Yoongi gets really really angry and kinda triggers the, allusions to past abuse, Blood, manipulative behavior, trans! tae, Transphobia,

W/c: 11.0k

A/n: woooooo we're finally here!! can you belive it???? this chapter may feel like an ending in a sense because it is an end of all the mafia parts. truly- after this chapter we won't see any more violence or blood or anything close to the last 6. it's all happy endings from here <3 Thank you for sticking with it!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Sneek Peek:

Yoongi waits for everyone to buckle their seat belt but you don’t, frozen watching him in the window, the rearview mirror when he gets into the front seat. Yoongi doesn’t even get around to starting the car, sliding the key home but the beep goes once, twice, and then a third time because you don't have your seatbelt buckled. The others wait in silence. 

“Yoongi-“

“Fuck!” The curse is loud and perfunctory. He kicks open his door again with a stream of spat explicative. Slamming it shut this time. The others don't say anything, completely silent in the face of his anger.

Yoongi doesn't get angry. You've never seen him like this before. 

He wrenches your door open and for a horrible moment, you think he's going to yank you out of it and tell you to get lost. 

Yoongi's murmuring things to himself, so low that you almost can't make out what he's saying as he pushes himself into the back seat. The backseat of the Lambo isn’t that large. Hardly big enough to fit two people let alone four. Jungkook lets out a belated “Hey!” but Hoseok just reaches around him and unlocks the door for him to get out. Jimin is already out of the passenger seat and heading in the direction of the driver's side as Yoongi scrambles with your seat belt, jerking it over your shoulder and slamming it home.

"-Fucking asshole- of all the stupid omegas in the world I had to be mated to the fucking- dumbest- little- fucking-" The belt digs into your shoulder extra tight and Jimin starts the car wordlessly. 

You're closed in on both sides by him and Hobi on the other. 

They switch and shuffle. Jimin pulls away from the train station, gentler this time but still faster and with more finesse than you'd do it. Yoongi is still looking at you, glaring, tears in his eyes with wet cheeks, his voice low and uncompromising. 

“Give me your phone.” 

“My what?”

“Your. Phone. You used it to call her didn’t you?” You nod after a second, slowly pulling it from your sweatshirt pocket and handing it over. 

Yoongi takes your phone and breaks it over his thigh.

It’s a bit impressive really- the show of strength. He brings it down once and the screen breaks, winking out like a shooting star. Another and it bends just a little, a third time- and it’s practically at a right angle. It breaks so easily in the face of adrenaline and anger and fear. 

You make a small noise, not a whimper but a descending sound. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at you, wild. Like he’ll break even further if you complain. Hoseok’s not sure he’s ever seen Yoongi this broken. Never.

"Just- There were pictures of Noodle and Tae on there.”

Fear and anger are an intoxicating mix to anyone- let alone someone who almost lost their person. He goes at your phone until its jagged edge bites into his hand drawing blood. Then he tosses both pieces of your phone onto the floor of the car like they're paperweights. 

One of the pieces hits your shoe with a small metal clink, and even hobi looks down in surprise at the sound. 

Yoongi laughs and then bends over. yanking the gun out of your boot. Small, shoved there. Hoseok didn’t notice. He's not sure why it surprises him- that you'd be armed. You're not an idiot, you know the risks, and you were armed the last time that you tried to run away.  

He holds it out to you, long fingers wrapped around the barrel pointed at his chest. The handle facing you, the barrel of the gun level with his heart.

“You want to do the honors sweetheart?”

Coming Saturday April 27th At 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[smileysuh]

- KIM MINGYU

works. 21 I words. 208.9k

solo works. 8 works featuring other members. 13

Love, Cupid - Mingyu

🙂 preview.  “I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), pussy worship, love drunk Mingyu, fingering, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, hand-holding during sex, Mingyu is somewhat subby/switchy, mainly missionary to accommodate for his wings, sensitive wings, hand job,  mention of birth control, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, etc… I pet names: (his) big guy.

🍋 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.4k

Creep - Mingyu

🙂 preview. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever - you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu's perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. 

tw/cw. dark content warning, serial killer Mingyu, mention of suicide, touch starved mingyu, switch mingyu, pussy eating, pussy worship, blow job, hand job, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, extreme voyeurism, mentions of non-consensual voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, manhandling, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (his) good boy.

🍋 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k

The Alpha's Right Hand - Mingyu

🙂 preview. Mingyu had thought he’d lost you - if even for a moment - and he’s not willing to lose you ever again. He doesn’t want you running into the woods anymore when you’re having emotions, he wants you running to him, and he kisses you as if to say ‘please, never leave.’ He had always thought Seungcheol would be his alpha, but you’d shown up and flipped his world upside down. Mingyu doesn’t care about appeasing his friend anymore- all he cares about is appeasing you- pleasuring you, giving you everything you could ever possibly want, everything you could ever need.

tw/cw. a/b/o au & power structures, mentions of a bad pack past, one mention of child death, blood/childbirth, exhibitionism/outside sex, clothed dry humping, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job, big dick!Mingyu, pussy stretching, unprotected sex, pullout method, groping, overstimulation, praise, dirty talk, needy!Mingyu, hair pulling, orgasm control, small noncon/impreg thoughts, etc… I pet names: (hers) alpha. (his) Big guy, puppy.

🍋 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.4k

Fix You - Mingyu

🙂 synopsis. “As a member of 53V3NT33N, I have two different states of mind coded into me, aggression and admiration. To love something, to admire it, is to feel aggressive when it’s questioned, to want to control it, if even for a little while- it’s the need to consume it, endlessly, as my fans consume and control me as an automaton. Even though I’m a member of a group, there’s a distance. Automatons can never truly motivate each other because our motivations are based on external human needs, it’s built into us- We can see when humans need us, and we do what we can to fix that need… I know you need me, the way I’ve needed you since I got here.”

tw/cw.unprotected sex with an AI robot, virgin!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, Mingyu's body is perfect, hand job, blow job, deep throating, pussy eating, fingering, flavored cum, praise, breast worship, switchy/submissive!Mingyu, multiple orgasms, slight overstim, AI slavery/working philosophical issues, risk of AI termination/job loss, etc...

🍋 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.5k I collab. link

Heir - Mingyu

🙂 preview. As a princess, you’d grown up knowing you’d marry a prince and help him sire a number of adorable little royals. Truth be told, one of the things that had drawn you to Mingyu had been the way he’d interacted with his young cousins, children that would run up to him- and despite his princely stature, Mingyu always had time to entertain them, with a glint of adoration in his eye that had convinced you he was the one to marry- moreso than any of his older brothers.

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, breeding/baby kink, fingering, size kink, big!mingyu, mentions of mingyu taking y/n's virginity, dumbification, praise, finger-licking, etc... I petnames. (hers) darling, pretty little princess, wife.

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.4k

Puppy Love - Mingyu

🙂 synopsis. Mingyu is stuck in the puppy love phase, he can’t get enough of you, and can’t seem to grow out of it either- luckily, as your Black Lab Hybrid, he never needs to.

cw/ tw.  hybrid classism mentioned, body worship, praise, “pretty girl”, oral, fingering, insatiable Gyu, switch!Gyu, gentle choking, hybrid ear sensitivity, two givers fighting over who gets to give, clothed sex, unprotected sex, etc…

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 6.3k

Excuse me- Mingyu

🙂 synopsis. After searching what feels like all of Korea looking for his soulmate - guided by the words marked into his skin that will help him identify you - Mingyu heads to New York to try his luck there. He’s so caught up in the grandeur of the city that he almost forgets his mission, and by the time he notices his mistake, you’re in a bus, being carried away from him faster than the poor man can follow.

cw/ tw. none

🍋 rating. no smut I wc. 1.9k

Winner - Mingyu

🙂 synopsis. Your bae deserves a reward after kicking ass at racing on a little kid sized go kart.

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, big dick mingyu, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, super soft love sex, sex when you’re in love, sex with trust, soft baby boy Mingyu,

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 1.7k

Cam Baby Series - Mingyu I ft. multiple idols

🙂 preview. “I hate to say this-” Jeonghan sighs, and you can feel him practically zooming in on your fingers as you tear open Mingyu’s jeans, “but you two are actually really hot together.” The confident man towering over you falters, and you watch the hint of a blush creep up his neck and bloom across his ears. He better not actually be in love with you.

cw/ tw. cam sex, pussy eating, blowjobs, unprotected sex, voyeur!Jeonghan, 3some, spit roasting, cum play, praise, multiple orgasms, cum shot, size kink, etc... I petnames. (hers) baby. (mingyu's) puppy.

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 5.9k I 1 part

Penance - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo & 95 line

🙂 preview. You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress. “When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.”

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, orgies, 3some, 4some, 6some, creampies/filling kink, cum play, dirty talk, praise, degradation, fucking in weird places (a tank & church & outside & bathrooms), multiple sex scenes, choking, rough handling, manhandling, blow jobs, deep throating, oral, squirting, anal, double penetration, triple penetration, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, overstimulation, possessiveness, sir kink, powerplay, free use subthemes, getting horny during confession, sins: lust/greed, fingering, sex as punishment/penance, jealousy, dubious consent/inclusion of a new person, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, finger sucking, spanking, spitting, etc... I pet names: (hers) baby, beautiful princess, kitten, whore/slut, good girl, dirty girl, etc. (cheol's) sir. (gyu's) puppy. (others) etc...

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 21.2k

Ice Cold, Cabin Fever - Mingyu I ft. Seungcheol

🙂 preview. "come on, let’s just go back to snakes and ladders and you can pretend we’re not snowed in with no firewood and a dude you hate locked in the bathroom."

cw/ tw. threesome, daddy issues, mean/tsundere cheol, wet dreams, spanking, marking, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex, pain kink, dacryphilia, breast play, praise, degradation, fingering, oral, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, size kink, cumplay, finger sucking, spit roasting, hair pulling, voyeurism, I petnames. (hers) princess, bitch, whore, baby (s.coups) cheol, douche, dick, daddy (mingyu) gyu.

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 25.9k

This Dream - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo

🙂 preview.“now I see the problem.” wonwoo’s voice makes you groan in annoyance, and you tangle your fingers in mingyu’s hair, dragging his lips to your own in an effort to block out whatever the incubus is about to say- “you’re a sex demon with a thing for love... that’s why you ran from me, isn’t it?” 

cw/ tw. angst, mention of death by drowning, dark/yandere content, dream sex & dubious consent, vouyerism, dirty talk, dream exhibitionism, 3some, praise, unprotected sex, etc... 

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k 

Clowns - Mingyu I ft. 95 line & Mingyu

🙂 preview. you’re a sad, blue, crazy, tulle’d clown - corset and all - riding one of the most beautiful men you know, on the hood of his best friend’s car, exposed to the cool night air, under the full moon on a Halloween night while four more men watch... what could be better than this? 

cw/ tw. dark content, group sex, 6some, orgy, degradation, praise, manhandling, size kink, dirty talk, oral (f/m receiving), dacryphilia, deep throating, protected sex, fingering, squirting, parking lot exhibitionism, voyeurism, marking, horror/clowns, choking, dumbification, etc...  I pet names. squeak (50), silly/sad/stupid/messy/little clown (19+), daddy (6), etc...

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 13.3k

Celebrated - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo

🙂 synopsis.  after a long week working overseas, mingyu calls you and wonwoo to make sure you still miss him. And, because he’s the ‘breadwinner’ of the day, supposedly- he’s going to get to call more of the shots ;)

cw/ tw. 3some, phone sex, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, power play, sir (1), multiple orgasms, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, etc…

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k

Hazed - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo

🙂 synopsis. tensions have been high for a while, but an edible becomes the catalyst to a trio’d ascension to cloud 9, being a little hazy has never felt so good

cw/ tw. size kink, alcohol/weed consumption, man handling, dirty talk, switch!Mingyu, dom!Wonwoo, oral (f/m receiving), slight choking, face grinding, fingering, overstim, etc…

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4k

Rules - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo

🙂 synopsis.  Morning sex with Mingyu is always really amazing- but it comes with rules. 

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, 69-ing, oral (f receiving), fingering, anal/butt plug play, dom Wonwoo, switch Mingyu, praise, degradation, lots of pet names (princess, angel, baby, slut, etc…), bdsm type rules, etc…

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 6.4k

Besties - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo

🙂 synopsis. Your best friend drags you to a frat party despite your budding relationship with a man named Mingyu, and your best friend even convinces you to let loose, after all, you might not be single for much longer… however when he tells you to let your freak flag fly and kiss randoms- neither of you can foresee the massive blunder you make when ‘some random’ ends up being the best friend of your new ‘boyfriend not boyfriend’.

cw/ tw. dirty dancing, suggestions of infidelity that are unwarranted, crack shenanigans/debauchery, teasing, pet names, propositioning, sexual tension, tsundere/strangers to enemies to lovers! Wonwoo, exhibitionism, dirty talk, threesome, simp Mingyu, Hard Dom Wonwoo, spitting, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, dumbification, etc…

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15.2k

A Break - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo

🙂 synopsis.You and Mingyu live a perfect life. He’s an idol by day, and a doting husband by night, who showers your new baby with adoration. Life is easy- but when Mingyu starts paying more attention, he realizes why things are so easy: because it’s not just the two of you raising your baby, there’s a third person involved, and your baby has no concept of what differentiates a dad from a baby sitter.

cw/ tw. 3somes, dirty talk, oral (m/f receiving), deep throating, some body worship, spit roasting, unprotected sex, mentions of voyeuristic themes and public sex, man handling, size kink, etc...

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15.6k

Class Project - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo

🙂 synopsis.You’re less than enthusiastic about being paired with notorious frat boys Mingyu and Wonwoo for a class project. They make it a point to change your opinion of them... by being the ultimate meanies. 

cw/ tw. Mean Dom Wonwoo, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (m/f receiving), hand jobs, fingering, spanking, choking, biting, thigh riding, marks, dirty talk, pet names, degradation, voyeurism, edging, making Mingyu read a class project while Wonwoo rails you, etc…

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.3k

Anteric - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo

🙂 preview. when you bump into the guy that ghosted you, your model best friend and roommate, Mingyu, steps up to be your fake boyfriend for the night... and when the asshole is hired at your workplace, your other roommate, twitch gamer Wonwoo, is roped into the charade too - “polyamory exists dude, get over it.”

cw/ tw. 3some, dom/gamer/alt Wonwoo, Switch Mingyu, choking, spanking, handcuffs, slight pain kink, toys, vibrator, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, some overstim, nipple play, finger sucking, sex without condoms, some degradation, shower sex, multiple rounds, marking, jealousy, size kink, etc... I pet names. kitten, lazy bones,etc...

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 16.6k

Night Out - Mingyu I ft. Wonwoo & Vernon

🙂 synopsis. Vernon goes out for a night with Mingyu and Wonwoo to experience the ‘fun’ they always have. You go out to find a hot guy to take you home, you score threefold. 

cw/ tw. foursome (Orgy?), oral (f/m receiving), drinking, unprotected sex, Vouyerism, Wonwoo low key LOVES to watch, spit roasting, spanking, biting, deep throating, different sex positions?, i dunno, it was semi tame, petnames, dom!Wonwoo, switchy sub leaning Mingyu. 

🍋 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4.3k

✘ masterlist

[cowboylor]

hotline

you call matty when you're bored.

warnings: (18+) smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex (kind of?), degradation, oral (f. receiving)

wc: 1k

note: i completely blame this on me seeing the 1975 last week and being consumed in a brainrot over [REDACTED]. anywho this wasn’t the larger work i’m working on just a a sweet, totally chaste blurb of our good ole pal matty.

"Hello?"

His voice is worried. You've never called this late before. Even in the past when you were out with friends and just couldn't wait to tell him just how jaw-droppingly fit you found him. Or when you've missed your routine phone call while he's on tour and call him back hours later with a rushed apology and an eager inquiry about his day.

Those were late; but never this late.

"Hi," You say.

It comes out pitchy and you screw your eyes shut at the way you sound. Like you're clearly out of breath and heaving against your mattress. Like you're struggling to hold your phone up to your ear as your hand wanders below your panty line. Like you're completely, utterly desperate for him because let’s face it—

You've got it bad.

Matty pauses. "Everything alright?"

"Oh yeah," You say quickly. Shifting against the bed, you move to sit up against the frame. "Everything's fine, just... Miss you is all."

"Miss me," He repeats your words in tut, his voice sounding relieved when hearing nothing is wrong. You hear him shift (wherever he is--in his hotel bed or maybe on the couch). "Why's that?"

You tuck your lip between your teeth as your fingertips pry at your folds.

"Can't I miss my boyfriend?"

He hums over the line. "Of course, of course."

"It's just been a while."

A while since a lot of things. A while since your last phone call. A while since you've seen him ever since he left for New York. A while since he's fucked you if you’re mentioning the obvious.

He goes quiet on the other line and your hand slows.

"Darling."

You wince, your fingers returning to your clit. "Yes?"

"Are you playing with yourself?"

You snap your hand away like you've been burned. Your mouth falls open and you can practically hear his amused grin through the phone.

"No." You hiss, face burning.

You glance down.

He chuckles at your insistence. "Are you sure?"

He can read you like a book.

"Positive."

In more ways than one.

"Not rubbing your clit?" He asks, his voice lowering.

A whine escapes you and you know you're in for it.

You dip a finger into your underwear again, swiping at your bundles of nerves experimentally. Stifling another whine, you lean your head back against the headboard.

"Darling," He breathes out. You perk up at the change in octave; listening closely to hear the buckle of his belt clank and his quiet exhale. "Are you lying to me?"

Rolling your eyes back as you toy with your clit, you sigh into the speaker: "Do you think I am?"

"No," Matty huffs a laugh. You can hear him fumble with the buttons of his pants. "My girl would never act like that."

Your mind grows fuzzy and all you can think of is his voice and how it sounds reverberating through your phone—how it would sound when he's hovered over you, how it would sound when he's buried between your thighs.

Because you’re not a stranger to that sound. Not unfamiliar with the way he holds your legs apart while lapping at your core. With the way he needs to keep your thighs in place or else you’d be squirming against his mouth both drawn in and out from all the sensations you’re feeling.

(“You’re so sensitive,” He’d say, groaning into your cunt. “Even before you come you’re twitching and whining—like you're in fucking heat or something.”)

“Like–” Your eyelids feel heavier as you draw out sharp, tight circles. “Like what?”

He hums. “Like a whore.”

Heat pools and you meet the warmth with the pad of your fingertip.

You swallow roughly, relishing in the sound of his breathy groan as you imagine him also touching himself. Also getting himself worked up to the point where his thighs shake and his fingers threaten to pull away.

“‘m not a whore," You defend through bitten lips.

Prying yourself open with one finger, your timid touches become erratic. Less controlled and more sloppy with every flick of your fingertip, rhythm becomes a thing of the past.

“No?” He chuckles, “Just like getting off to your boyfriend's voice while you’re fucking yourself?”

You’re already warm in the face; you don’t give Matty the pleasure of pretending to be embarrassed. You’re too close for that.

“Matty,” You breathe out, wanting to be done with the game.

“Yes, darling?”

If he wants to draw it out of you fine.

You wince as you draw sloppy figure-eights. “I want to finish.”

Which goes against what you usually want from Matty. Usually you’re shifting against him, urging him to slow down because you want to let it linger—almost dreading the idea of finishing and it being over.

(“I can’t,” You’d murmur, eyelids fluttering—clenching your stomach in an effort to hold off coming.

“You can.” His voice would turn stern and you’d feel another thump of heat radiate throughout your body. “Just let it happen, darling. Let me take you there.”)

Matty feigns mock surprise. “And here I was thinking we were having a heart-to-heart.”

“Don’t patronize,” You furrow your brows, halting your movements.

“I’m not some sex hotline, you know,” He tuts, his voice gravelly as he shifts around in the background. “To fulfill all your carnal urges.”

You blink. “I'll hang up.”

He doesn't miss a beat. “Well, hold on.”

You smile and you’ve got him.

"'m sorry," He says, sounding like he's closer to the phone. It makes shivers run down your body hearing him like this—tucked up in your neck while your fingers hover over your core. It's too much and not nearly enough at the same time. "Let me make it up to you."

Pretending to think about it, you click your tongue, "How?"

"Tell me how wet you are."

[jazzyoranges]

Would it be possible if you could do a Tara Carpenter x fem!reader please? Maybe someone flirts with reader and tara gets mad and pulls reader into a room aggressively which hurts the reader, and starts like making out with her, but tara bites the readers lip out of anger and hurts the reader so she starts crying and then tara feels bad and comforts her and telling the reader it wasn’t her fault and that she shouldn’t have taken her anger out on the reader? Idk if that makes sense but if you don’t feel comfortable doing that then you don’t have to! 🫶

Jealousy - drabble

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Words: 0.9k

Warnings: angst(?), Tara is mean but bbg doesn’t mean it

A/n: lowkey inspired by @rollingsins All hers Tara (as in Tara deals with bad jealousy issues). also i changed a little bit of the request, but blink and you’ll probably miss it

Tara is by your side, yet you hear your name being called behind you. Deciding it’s probably nothing, you decide to keep talking to your girlfriend about god knows what. Unfortunately, the voice seems to keep getting closer until-

“Y/N, hey!” You feel a tap on your shoulder, and you whip your head around to see a girl you took english with. Sadie, was it? Tara immediately glares at the girl, but she’s too enthralled with you to notice her stare

“I didn’t think you were coming to this party! You look really good” There’s a hint of something in her voice, but you can’t figure out what it is. You determine she’s probably just being friendly. The two of you engage in small-talk you really don’t want to be in, but it doesn’t hurt being nice

“So, are you free tomorrow? I need help studying” Sadie winks at you, and you suddenly start to feel uncomfortable in her presence

“She’s with me tomorrow, actually” Tara buts into the conversation, sensing your tiny discomfort

“So don’t you fucking try any shit, you got that?” Your girlfriend points a finger in Sadie’s direction, causing her to take a step back. Tara storms off and you can hear Sadie mutter about how she’s a bitch. You shoot a glare at the girl, and try to spot Tara in the sea of drunk people dancing

“Tara, baby, she was just being friendly” You follow behind your angry girlfriend stomping upstairs away from the party

“Oh yeah, like she wasn’t checking you out. Everyone down there probably now thinks they have a chance, but you’re mine.” Tara practically growls, turning around to face you. You take a step back, but Tara just pulls you into a random guest room in the house

You’ve played this game before. Tara gets jealous, she fucks the shit out of you. But this time feels… different. When Tara pushes you against the door, she isn’t as gentle. When she crashes her lips into yours, Tara starts devouring you like she’s never going to see you again. You really start to get concerned when she starts to mutter words under her breath in between rough kisses

“Mine… you’re all fucking mine. Nobody else’s, all mine.” Tara murmurs, almost like a chant. Honestly, you feel a little guilty at how hot and bothered she’s making you feel

“Tara, stop.” This definitely isn’t healthy. Even though you’re a little turned on, you recognize this isn’t a good habit to have

“Shut up, you’re mine.” Your girlfriend hooks her thumbs into the belt loops of your jeans, forcing you to be closer to her

“Tara.”

“Say it. Say you don’t belong to that bitch.” Your final straw is when she bites your lip hard enough to draw blood. Planting your hands on her shoulders, you have to pry your girlfriend off of you. This wasn’t the Tara you knew. This wasn’t the Tara that would hold you during your nightmares. The Tara in front of you was filed by jealousy and anger.

When the brunette takes a good look at you through the darkness of the room, you can see her face contort into something akin to regret and remorse. Stray tears you didn’t know you had dripped down your face, your lip stung with blood, yet somehow you were still looking at Tara like she was the only woman to ever exist

“…Y/N?”

“Yeah, baby?” You sigh, taking your hands off her shoulders

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to- I just-“

“I know you didn’t mean to, baby.”

“Can I touch you?” Nodding your head, Tara wipes off the blood on your lip with her sleeve. Next, she wipes the tears off your face. Tara holds your face in her hands, looking like she just killed a puppy

“Tara?”

“Y-Yeah?” her voice breaks

“I’m not mad at you. We’re not going to break up because of tonight.” Your reassurance was enough to make Tara cry, pulling you into a hug. Her tears wet your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns right now. A slew of apologies ranging from “I love you so much, I’m sorry.” to “I’m so sorry this won’t happen again.” escape her lips and into your neck

You knew Tara had a bad problem with jealousy. You happily supported her during her therapy sessions, and you welcomed your girlfriends progress with open arms. Her anger must’ve been building over the past few weeks, because she was never this bad when it came to jealousy

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” She finally says. “I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you, baby. You don’t deserve that.” Tara’s eyes are red, and her sniffles make your heart break at how small she looks

“It’s okay, Tara. I know you’re trying, baby. How about we go home now?”

“Please? I’ll make it up to you, I promise” You pull Tara out of the room, and make your way to Tara’s car. The rest of the night, you two spend your time in each others arms settled in your girlfriends room

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All the Good Girls Go To Hell 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, injury, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You come home for the summer but your break is not as relaxing as you expect.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Friday! (again)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It takes until noon to get yourself together. The world around you feels disconnected and hazy, beyond your reach. You just want to hide from the chaos your life has become, but you know you can't do that. Bucky says as much, telling you to take it all in small steps. The first; get your car.

You slump in the passenger seat of Bucky's range rover, arms folded over your fraught stomach. Never again. It's never worth it, even if it lets you forget. You just have to remember it all the next day, all while feeling shitty as hell.

He pulls up in front of Harry's house and you slowly sit forward to look around him. You gulp and fish out your keys, the jingle making you wince. You blow out a breath and undo your seat belt.

"Should I come with you, doll?" He offers, one hand on the wheel.

You look at him. His long hair is draw back into a ponytail at the back of his head, a few strands dangle loose to his chin. His square jaw is speckled with dark stubble and few patches of silver. His steely blue eyes shine as his plain white tee and blue jeans offer a perfect canvas for his easy allure. The way he looks at you makes it hard not to notice how handsome he is.

"No, no, I'll just go get my car and follow you back to your place. Should be easy."

You pull the door handle before you can lose your nerve. You're grateful for Bucky's help but you need to do this on your own. He can't coddle you and you can't expect everything from him. You don't want to be in this situation ever again; cast out and lost.

You get out and gently shut the door. You round the front of the tall rover and push your glasses up your nose. You cross the street, tucking your hands in your pockets as you keep your shoulders curled and head down. You cross the pavement and head up the tarmac, stopping short as you catch sight of your car.

Your mouth falls open as you gape at the mess strewn across it. Shaving cream streaks the hood and roof, toilet paper draped over it in tangled strips, and eggs smashed into the worn paint. As you get closer, you notice the only blank patch is keyed with the words 'dumb bitch'. You stare stunned at the desecration of your only possession.

You shake your head and don't look up at the house. You can guess it was probably Harry and his friends. This is the type of stuff the got up to in high school and these people made it clear that you're an outsider. 

You near the car and grab a few strips of toilet paper, pulling them off and wadding them up as you try to wipe off the yolk and half-melted cream. Some of it's caked on after sitting for at least half the night. You sigh and focus on just tearing the tissue off. You can hit a car wash but you don't know what you'll do about the scratches.

As you scrape off what you can, you hear a door and sense a shadow. Harry's laughter rattles in the afternoon sun and you ignore him as you toss clumps of cream and toilet paper onto the ground. You unlock the door and he catches it from the outside, holding it in place.

"Do you get the hint now?" He asks darkly.

"Leave me alone," you tug on the door and it doesn't budge.

"Naomi is better than you. You're just some stupid nerd who doesn't know her place. The only reason Peter was interested is because he wants to make MJ jealous--"

"I don't care--"

"You're too boring for her," he sneers, "so better go off back to your corner and cry, little girl."

"Frig off," you spit at him, "and let go!"

You try to jerk the door away and he just snickers again. You bear your teeth in frustration and roll your eyes. If he wants you gone, why won't he let you go?

"She helped. The eggs were her idea," he taunts. You don't care if she did or not, her loyalties are clear enough. You saw them last night.

"Hey," Bucky's voice rips through your standoff and you turn as he storms up the driveway. "Back up, jackass."

"Jesus Christ, not this geezer," Harry snarls.

"Yes, this geezer," Bucky barks, "go inside before I show you what an old man can do."

"Whatever, bro."

"Whatever," Bucky stomps past you and stops only inches from Harry, looming over him, "I'm up for whatever you choose, boy."

Harry huffs and curls his lip. He raises his hands and takes a step back, "you're not worth the trouble."

"Sure," Bucky keeps his shoulder in front of you, blocking you in, "go on and run back to your posse of dumbasses."

Harry waves him off and turns on his heel, slides flopping under him as he tramps like a toddler back to the house. You shudder and look at Bucky as he turns to you. He rests his hand on the top of the door.

"You alright, doll?" He softens his tone.

"Yeah, fine, he's just dumb."

"Mm," he looks past you, "assholes. Let's get this thing cleaned up and--" He pauses and shifts away, bending to examine the message etched into the paint, "hmmmmm," he growls, "good thing I know how to buff this stuff out." He stands straight, hands on his hips, his pose accentuating his chest and biceps, "you want me to drive this thing till we get it washed or--"

"No, no, it's okay," you murmur, "I just wanna get out off here."

"Sure thing," he tries to smile but his cheek ticks as his eyes drift angrily to the house, "don't let appearances fool you, there people are trash."

🌞

When you get back to Bucky's, he unfolds a lawn chair and points you to it. There's little argument to be had as his anger has you tongue-tied. You know it's not directed at you but you can feel it steaming off of him. You've never been good at handling that sort of emotion, especially from others.

It's probably for the better. Your head is pounding, even in the shadow of the awning, and you stomach is still wobbly with uncertainty. You rest your chin in your hand as you watch him spraying your car with the nozzle of the hose. As he does, the splash back dampens the front of his tee, the fabric clinging to his stomach as he sneers at his task.

He shut the hose off and grabs the sponge from the bucket, scrubbing at the harder to get patches until has has it mostly clean. He gives it another rinse with hose and rolls it up, dumping the bucket in the grass and dropping the sponge inside. He puts the pail down and sits on the steps, only a foot away from you. 

"Sure made a mess of myself," he looks down at his wet shirt, wiping his hands on it before tugging it upwards. He strips it off and shakes it out as you avert your wiley gaze. "I'll buff the side later and it should be fine. Probably have to find somewhere to fix the paint properly, though."

"Thanks, uh, you've really done... enough."

"Shitty," he mutters clutching the shirt in his hand. As he leans an elbow on his knee, your eyes stray to the trim of hair across his broad chest. You hide your wandering gaze and focus on your hands, "I'm sorry she dragged you into all this. Really... and I know I've probably not made it any easier."

"I guess I'm just confused. I don't know what to do with myself. I guess I should keep looking for a job but at this rate, I won't have one until I have to head back to campus. If I even get to go." You exhale shakily, "my parents split tuition but if my mom cuts me off... I don't know what to do."

He nods and gives a thoughtful hum. He sits back and props his elbow on the step behind him, his muscled stomach tugging at your gaze. No, stop.

"I never had kids. Obviously. Always knew I couldn't give them everything I would want to, you know? But if I did, I'd give them everything I could. I just don't get it. I really don't, you're a good girl and they just don't see what's right in front of them," he sucks his teeth, "well, how about..." he stops himself and lets his leg sway one way then the other, "I could offer you a job. You could do some work around the shop. Sweeping up sawdust and stuff but the pay is good."

You nod and chew your lip. It's a nice idea. More than you deserve.

"What... what about..."

"Steve? You let me handle him. Really, he's just a dumbass. Gets carried away. Besides, sounds like he has his hands full with your mom and his wife," he scoffs, "you'll be working with me, not him."

You wiggle your foot, "I don't know..."

"It's your choice but it'll keep you busy and it could help with money problems," he puts his hand flat, "all you have to do is say yes. Oh, and obviously, whatever you decide, you got a place to stay."

You glance up at the house and frown, "I don't... what about Naomi?"

"What about her? If she comes back, same thing for her. She has a room here. I made promises and I don't break those. However she feels about me, I wasn't the one who hit the self-destruct button."

You drop your head, holding it tight as it feels ready to splinter. It's not just your hangover, it's everything else. You squeak and rub your temples with your thumbs.

"You okay?" Bucky leans forward and touches your elbow.

You lift your head gently, "yeah. I just feel awful. That I ever thought you were... bad. After everything, you won't even turn her away."

"She's lost. She's careless but she's young. I only ever wanted to help her, I was just selfish about how," he shrugs and retracts his hand, "but anyway," he stands and touches his lower back, "I think you should go inside, chill out on the couch, and watch some Netflix. I'll get you something nice and greasy to eat for that hangover."

You whimper and give a pathetic smile, "I'm sorry about that," you stand with some effort, "I don't usually drink like that--"

He laughs, "don't apologise," he waves you up the steps ahead of him, "I'm going to start being honest with you so I do need to tell you that it was really cute."

You giggle and shake your head as you reach for the front door. He's fast and extends his arm past you, opening it around you, close, so close you can feel the heat roiling off of him.

"No, it wasn't," you insist.

"It really was," he snorts as he follows you inside, "you get this pout and it's just..." he's quiet as you slip your shoes off, a lull as he weighs his words, "gorgeous."

You chuckle nervously and rub your neck. He clears his throat and toes off his sneakers. He moves around you cautiously, as if fighting not to get any closer.

"I'll go grab my phone and we'll figure out what to order," he mutters, his tone uneven, "you just make yourself at home."

🌞

You feel a bit more stable once you have a good meal in your stomach. Good being a relative term. The greasy cheeseburger and onions rings are hardly nutritious but they are satisfying. 

You slurp on your diet coke as you lay with your head up against the armrest and lose yourself in the shallow drama of the reality show personalities. An argument about a dress really is compelling theatre. You put the cup down and hug the cushion to your chest, laughing as a woman storms out, tossing her wine in the process. Wow, and you thought your life was ridiculous.

You yawn and close your eyes. It's getting late. You should probably go to the guest room and try to sleep off the last of your alcoholic regret. 

The end of the couch dips and your eyes snap open. Bucky sits just below your feet, tilting his head at the screen. He arches his brow as his eyes search the television. His mouth slants as he looks at you.

"So, why are these women screaming at each other?" He asks.

"Oh, uh, you can change it," you go to sit up but he firmly puts his hand on your ankle.

"No, I'm curious. Genuinely."

"Really, it's just a stupid show--"

"I want to know," he smiles and glances back at the TV, "they are really angry."

"Well, the blonde one borrowed a dress from the brunette and never gave it back but the blonde claims she did and the other woman is lying. And the other blonde is saying she saw the dress in the brunette's closet," you explain and end with a chortle, "it really is nonsense."

He keeps his hand on your ankle, his thumb rubbing through the cotton of your sock. He nods and squints, "the brunette is lying."

"Hmm? How do you know?"

"You can tell," he points with his other hand, his other slipping down your foot. "She keeps looking left."

"Oh?" You look between him and the television, overly aware of his hand. He pushes his thumb into your sole and you groan at the delightful pressure.

"You ticklish?" He wonders as he drags his thumb along your arch, "huh?"

"A little," you confess, "what are you--"

"Just... being nice," he grips your foot as you try to pull away once more, "just lay back. Everyone loves a good foot massage, don't they?"

"I... I wouldn't know," you push yourself up on your elbows and watch him knead your foot, barely withholding a moan. He knows what he's doing. "Never had one before."

"Really? Well, you got a lot of tension right... here," he poke his thumb into you and your squeal. It sends a zing up your leg. "See? I told you, you need to relax. I'm just helping." He grabs your ankle higher up and yanks, just hard enough to have you flat on your back, "sit back and enjoy, doll. You deserve it."

[vilhelios]

— SWIM WITH ME / I THINK I CAN SEE THE BEACH;

( i need you here with me / but we're out in the open. ) ; romantic headcanons for abysswalker!rafayel ♡ more under the cut!

CW: spoilers for rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth + general abysswalker rafayel lore ; fluff ; angst ; hurt/comfort ; mentions of blood, injury, and self-harm (rafayel plucks off his scales) : might feel a little ooc because it is abysswalker and not main story rafayel ; quite the word dump (bc i rattle my cage for him)

— as the morning light of the desert creeps into the dim of a tent, two bodies lay tangled in the warmth of each other. RAFAYEL sleeps light and wakes early—hours before the sun peeks over the golden dunes—and although the habit irks him, it does offer him a wonderful sight as compensation: the sight of you, bathed in the soft, rose-gold light of morning, hair a mess, marks littering your skin from where the sheets pressed up against you.

overcome with a love that warms him like molten gold, the young god cannot help but litter your face in butterfly kisses. two to the apples of your cheeks, one on the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips, the middle of your temple. when you shift in your sleep, groan at his ministrations, rafayel can only chuckle, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. he thinks he can hear amund yell for his presence. he couldn't care less.

— RAFAYEL sees himself as the sword at the hilt of your belt, the dagger in your hands that you should use as you see fit, the steady hand guiding your own, drawing your bowstring. he is your ever faithful shadow, always at your side, a watchful gaze always on you. it is only natural for one to protect the keeper of their heart... which is why you and the medical kit from the nurse's tent have gotten well acquainted with each other.

"one of these days, you're going to listen to me." you sigh, gently peeling aside the torn leather of his garb. rafayel does not wince; you don't think you've ever seen him do so, not when he ripped that arrow from his shoulder, or when he stumbles back to your tent with a bloody gash on his chest, or when he's brandishing new bruises on his knuckles. the royal guards seem intent on tracking you down, crossing all of philos's 30,000 zetameters of sand to lock you up in your gilded cage again.

rafayel seems equally intent to ensure that doesn't happen, even if it means throwing himself into their line of fire.

"if i listen to you," the lemurian starts, violet gaze trained on the gentle workings of your fingers, "they'll take you from me again, back to the palace." his breath hitches the slightest—at the thought of you leaving him again, or at the too-harsh tug of the bandage, you're not sure.

— some nights, RAFAYEL is awoken by dreams—horrible, lifelike nightmares. it's sudden, a jolt that has him taking in rapid breaths, a tremor in his hands. "a nightmare", he tells you, when you stir awake and ask him what's wrong in a groggy voice that makes his heart ache, "just a nightmare, sweetheart. nothing to worry about." he waits until he hears your breathing slow once more, pressing kisses to your temple all the while, before slinking out of the tent and into the cold desert air. he'll return to your side before the sun rises, but for now, with still-stuttering breaths, he just needs some time to clear his head.

in his nightmares, a butterfly flaps its wings just the wrong way and rafayel is landed in a world where he is as cold-blooded as amund wished he was. he is back in the ruins of the isle of songs, your hand guiding his own (white-knuckled, dagger brandished) to the place where your heart thrums beneath. and unlike himself, rafayel takes the chance: takes back what is his, what was never yours to keep. the god of the sea was a foolish, lovesick man. he would not make the same mistake.

the dagger sinks into your flesh, the ease of it wrong. your blood flows onto his palms, gets into all the creases of his gloves, spills onto the barren earth and dyes the returning sea red. it is so, so warm against his skin, warms the fire in him that threatened to fizzle out. (he has always been a selfish man, he knows. it is only right that he is no better than bloodthristy philos.) the look dream-you gives him, before he awakes from this cruel world, sears itself into the back of his eyelids. he can see it still, when he looks at the dark of the night sky: reverent, loving. (how could you not, when he has freed you yet again?)

— often, you ask RAFAYEL to tell you tales of the ocean; more specifically, its creatures! what were those rays he spoke of, or the sharks, or those star-shaped things? do the lemurians actually eat them? your lover finds your boundless curiousity incredibly endearing, chuckling whenever your eyes seem to light up at the mention of some new deep-sea fish.

"this is a whale shark." rafayel says, and you watch as the scale in his hands transforms into a small purple apparition. it's as long as his pointer finger, heteroceral tail flicking as it swims in the flame currents, light purple spots patterning its black back. "they are gentle things, despite their size. they only ever eat plankton. i used to have one as a pet, long ago."

"how cute!" you laugh, waggling your finger in front of the shark and watching it follow. "did you have other pets?" and at that, he procures another silver scale, places it into your palms and covers it with his own. a barreleye manifests, and you grin when it's luminous purple eyes stare up at you.

(rafayel ignores the sting in his arm, pinpricks of blood soaking his garb from where he'd plucked some scales off. the wonder in your eyes is more than worth it.)

— helping the LEMURIANS with their daily chores within the camp comes like second nature to you. there is always so much to do: collect jars upon jars of water from the nearby oasis, prepare food, feed the camels, record the state of the camp's supplies... all the while, you feel RAFAYEL'S eyes on your form, your ever cautious vassal. with a little smile, you pretend you don't notice his lavender gaze, if only to spare him from the flushed ears.

it's surprisingly simple, making that lemurian cake: tapioca flour, camel's milk, a healthy dash of sugar, and citrus rind... when the sweet old woman you've spent the afternoon baking with feeds you a slice, you think you've simply ascended. back then, rafayel had fed you one that was cold and a little stale—probably as it was a part of his rations for long journeys. perhaps he'd like one that was far fresher, and baked with love?

... which is how rafayel found himself with a wicker basket full of cake shoved into his hands, and an awaiting you in front of him. "you've been training a while, haven't you?" you smile, taking one of the soft slices and bringing it up to his lips; "try it for me, please!"

and as obedient as ever, rafayel takes a bite, sweetness and citrus on his tongue. "it's good," he hums, kisses your fingertips, "tell me when you're making it next time, love. i'd love to help."

— the LEMURIANS, you remember, were masters of the arts: singing, painting, poetry... so it's no surprise, then, that they celebrate their craft almost every night: children crowd around a charming poet, hooked on every word of their newest bedtime story—his newest fable, that is (something about a fish and a bird, who wished to visit a bakery); the musicians have already begun their newest improvised song, a lively version of an old elegy, it seems; the bonfire in the centre burns high into the night sky like it was trying to reach the stars itself, and when the lemurians dance around it their shadows are long against the sands. you don't know how, but you're eventually dragged into the dance yourself. the glee is infectious, and you find yourself instinctively looking for your beloved.

RAFAYEL doesn't indulge in dancing often, as fun as it may be. he knows the steps, his feet still tapping to the rhythm of the tambourines even as he nonchalantly leans against the tent pole in the distance. it is second nature, now, but his eyes always find you, even in the crowd of people—you, laughing and twirling around without a care in the world. it makes his heart race, a smile creeping onto his own features. he watches you dance with his people, linking arms and being spun around; for a moment he wonders if he should join just to be your one and only dance partner.

... he doesn't notice when you've escaped his gaze, but before he knows it, you've snuck up on him and wrapped a shawl around his neck, dragging him towards the crowd; "dance with me, rafa!"

and how can he refuse a shared moment that transcends lifetimes—across shimmering oceans, and marble floor ballrooms, and golden sands? rafayel's stumbling forward into you until his arms take their rightful place around your form. his hands find the small of your back and yours hold onto his shoulders, shawl long abandoned on his neck. this is second nature, galaxies colliding, two souls becoming one.

— after all of the night's festivities are said and done—the musicians pack up their flutes, lyres, and tambourines; the children cover up their yawns with still-red palms from clapping to tonight's tunes; the remaining food is safely packed away for tomorrow—it's just you, RAFAYEL, and the dwindling embers of the fire he'd just stomped out. "i do believe even your highness is not exempt from curfew," he hums, takes your hand in his, and presses his lips to the knuckles.

and in the silence of your tent, coveted in the silver hues of moonlight, rafayel sits you down before him, your back leaning against his chest. his arms wrap around your frame, his chin resting on the crook of your neck. this is your ritual, on too-cold nights: rafayel lights a flickering flame in his palms, the black and violet embers cold as ever. you both stare into this dying fire—you both know what is to come.

sometimes, when the ugly concoction of guilt and sorrow prick at your very soul, your hand reaches up to entwine with his own, just as they did to guide his dagger to your heart. "i won't." rafayel says, and you know what he means. "i will never hurt you." he doesn't complete the sentence, the words dying on his tongue, but you know the rest (there is no other end to this story): i would rather die.

a/n : i need abysswalker carnally it's not even funny anymore 🤩 these were. not supposed to be this long (they are like little fics in themselves omg). but i love this rafa so much i think he deserves it. thank you for the love on the previous rafa content <3 it makes me so happy seeing people who also love this lil guy. the dancing with rafa hc is very much so inspired by "through heaven's eyes" from the prince of egypt! <3333

[partycatty]

johnny cage > take a load off

johnny had a bad day of work, so you take care of him .... ;)

warnings: the sloppiest toppy known to mankind, overstimulate that whore, also i don't fully understand male meat and how long their ultimate ability cooldown is

notes: @crimsonbubble coming in clutch again with the inspo! this was so FUCKING hard to write, i poked and prodded at this for days before i felt okay with it.

[ masterlist ]

• "baby, i just said i had a bad day at work, you don't need to do all this," johnny's fingers twirl in your hair as your cheek presses against his thigh, fiddling with his belt buckle.

• you tell him you want him to relax for once, being a director is so much more work than being a pretty boy on camera. he visibly twitches in his seat, shifting his hips forward ever so slightly. complying with your desire, his thighs part even further for you.

• "you know i can't turn down that sweet face," johnny reaches between his legs down to your face, lightly squishing your cheeks with one hand. he leans back on the couch, stretching his arms out behind the back and getting himself comfortable as you finally tug his slacks away from his hard-on, tapping his thigh so he pulls his hips upward and lets you slide his pants to his knees.

• getting access to his boxer briefs and the strained cock underneath, you waste no time in attempting to get a taste, licking a fat stripe up the fabric as your hot mouth makes him shiver in anticipation.

• you answer his sharp intake of breath by feeling up the length of his shaft, catching your fingers against his tip and milking it of precum as it begins to pool in the fabric of his boxers, darkening the spot nicely. you pump him slowly through his underwear as he bites down on his finger, restraining himself from spilling nasty words of desperation your way.

• tempted to draw them out, you squeeze just enough to make him twitch, feeling his cock throb in your grip as you grasp the base of his cock, observing how much it tents up.

• "play nice," he gently warns you, tilting his head back with a groan. "don't be a tease, doll."

• little does he know that any attempt to ask for the real thing only prolongs such. you begin to stroke his cock through the boxers and he writhes and wriggles, muffling whimpers with his palm slapped over his mouth. his hips involuntarily buck up when you kiss his tip, swirling your palm around his tip in a circular motion.

• you ask him what's wrong in that deadly sultry voice of yours, continuing this circling with a devious look. johnny parts his fingers, showing his parted lips as he gasps and whines.

• "pl..." he swallows thickly, his honey eyes wet with need. "please."

• your hand speeds up, pulling more whimpers and begs from his plush lips.

• "ohh - fuck, fuckfuckfuck please, i-" moans spill from his mouth, beyond desperate for your touch. "please, i'll be good, i'll be so good, please take it out, i can't-"

• his pleadings for pleasure finally are satiated when you free his dick from its constraints, letting out an impressed noise as his length bounces up and slaps against his stomach. you'd never seen his cock so pink and needy, a fresh pearl of precum beading at the slit. his face was flushed, brows knitted together and he looked as if he could cum there and then out of need.

• fueled by the desire to have him squirm and whimper, you hollow your cheeks out as your lips absorb his tip, swirling your tongue and tasting the eager precum as it drools out. his hand flies down to the back of your head, only to freeze midway and reach back up to cover his eyes. you wanted control, and he was giving it to you. if he looked down at the sight, though, he feared he'd finish early — which could only lead to more torture.

• hoping to catch him off guard, you fully sink down onto his cock, letting it embrace the fleshy walls of your mouth and throat as it glides in with ease. you had taken him many times before like it was a hobby, so it was no real sweat, that is until it became a little too much right off the bat.

• just as your nose brushes against his crotch, he lets out a cry of incoherent whines, bucking up as far as your throat allowed him, which wasn't much at this point. curses and your name drooled from his lips even as he tried to bite them shut, gripping the couch with all of his might lest he try to fuck your face through his orgasm. you look up at him in surprise as you lips remained around him, raising an eyebrow as his cum forces its way into your throat.

• "mmfgh— i'm sorry," he whines before letting out a long sigh. "sorry, sorry, i — it was too much." his face is red with embarrassment. never in all his time did he cum so quickly to anyone but you, you were like his horny kryptonite and it embarrassed the hell out of him.

• you tut, pumping lazily at his cock and your eyes flick between it and his flushed face. looking down, you realize that his cock is still semi-hard, and you decide that you're not quite done with johnny. he seems to understand that too, eyes widening in worry at just how far you'll push him tonight while also coming to the realization that he's super into this...

• you flick his chubbed dick with amusement, switching between that and strokes just to watch him jolt and gasp from his sensitive area being toyed with so cruelly. you manage to work him up again just right, and his cock hardens not quite back to maximum but enough to properly work with.

• johnny wants to tell you to stop, that it's all too much and he can't come again, but he knows better by now, and is honestly curious to see if you truly could pull another one out of him.

• "i already came—" he pleads, trailing off in hope you understand his warning that he may not be able to continue. you give him a funny look, like he said something truly stupid.

• "...okay?" you frown, tilting your head. "s-so?"

• "so i..." he swallows thickly, holding his own cheek as his gaze averts. "i'm not sure how much left i got in me."

• you hum, not in agreement though. in acknowledgement, ignoring his warning as your lips envelop his tip once more and he lets out a strained cry, arching his back from the couch. he's overly sensitive, you were sure to target his tip beforehand, now it was time to please the rest.

• your hands raise to his body, using a great deal of strength to pin one to his stomach and the other up his shirt to flick your finger around his hardened nipple. from your position it was hard to get a full feel, so you instead pinched it between your index and middle finger's lengths. at the same time, you sink further onto his cock, inspecting every crease in his face as they contort.

• "you're — oh, fuck — you're so mean to me," he whines, panting as he tries pathetically to escape from your touch. "i think i may die."

• "don't be a baby," you hum as your lips kiss the slit, making him whimper again as the vibrations of your voice send a white hot pleasure through his nervous system. johnny tries to laugh at your insult, but he's so nervous and needy he can't find his usual chuckle in his throat, only a breathy giggle interrupted by a longer groan as you return your mouth to his cock.

• this time, you're focused on the entirety of the length and johnny only finds enough strength to brush your hair from your face, fingers twitching each time you reach the base of his shaft.

• bobbing at a brutal pace now, the wet squelch of your throat threatens to sound downright gross. your lips are dripping, drooling from a mixture of saliva and the slick of cum left saturating in his skin. you toy with his balls lazily, letting out grumbly moans that drive johnny to see stars.

• his back is arching hopelessly, head thrown back as his pornographic moans echo through the high ceilings of your living space, crying out as if he needs some kind of higher being to grant him the mercy to finish again.

• his prayers are answered when his orgasm rides up on him quickly, enhanced by his sensitivity. his heavy cock twitches and throbs on your tongue, and you know exactly what's bound to happen; you pull away entirely, wrapping your hand around his dick and squeezing so hard he's cut off from spilling his seed across his stomach.

• at this blatant and cruel denial, johnny's lashes dampen with frustration and need, looking down at you with a bewildered expression as pleas spill from his lips.

• "please," he begs like he might explode. "please, please, don't do that, i need to cum so fu— baby, i'm not joking. i'm gonna die."

• "i thought you couldn't cum?" his own words fly back at him and all he can do is let out a cry of anger at the denial, pouting at your cocky expression.

• he speaks through his teeth, clenching hard on his jaw to avoid the tears flowing. "i can."

• "i dunno," you gently squeeze onto his cock again, and it genuinely looks like it might burst from how swollen it's gotten. "i don't think so..."

• grunting in frustration, he takes the opportunity to fuck himself on your hand, planting his arms on the couch and bucking up into you with a frenzied need pulled from somewhere deep and submissive inside of him. he probably couldn't take it, and sincere doubts clouded his mind, but the need for a release was so overwhelming he was starting to lose his other senses.

• he deserved some kind of release, you figured as you let him use your hand as he wanted. it's only about thirty seconds or so before he's whimpering again, eyes clenched shut as he focuses on cumming into your fist for the second time. matching his speed, you twist your fist as he fucks into it, and it's here that you notice he's actually crying.

• his nose is pink and his cheeks are rosy, highlighting the shine of two fine tearstreaks running down his cheeks and it unlocks something ugly and primal in your core. may the elder gods forgive your carnal desire to have one of the chosen ones cry at your touch.

• both of your hands fold behind your back abruptly as johnny now fucks into the air, desperate for friction once again. his subtle crying turns into sobs as he feels his painful erection go, once again, ignored.

• "you're evil," he sobs, raking his hands through his hair as his voice becomes borderline genuinely angry. "you're evil, you're so... you're so cruel, the worst—" he takes back everything when you lean forward and take half of him in your mouth, sucking him off hands free. johnny's eyes roll back as his sentence is cut short. his jaw is slack and a priest might call his expression possessed as your cheeks hollow out to clamp yourself on his cock.

• this time, he makes a complete mess of himself as you lick at his shaft, tugging his cock as his seed finally spills onto his thighs and stomach, spilling around your hand. there was so much, much more than usual, spurts of cum shooting out with each moan and weak thrust of his hips.

• "too much," he whimpers as your hand doesn't stop stroking. his thighs twitch and attempt to close on you but you're sitting right between them, so his efforts only clench onto your shoulders. you kitten lick at the underside of his dick as he starts to crack a smile, giggling and writhing as you continue to toy with him after his second round. "baby, i can't anymore. i really can't." his voice breaks each time your fingers catch on his tip, tears flowing freely now. whether it was due to his overwhelming love or the way you milk him relentlessly, he's too fucked out to decide.

• "one more," you purr, eyes in a trance as you observe his softened cock twitch in delight at your command.

• you're not even sure if he got fully hard, or hard at all, your brain feels foggy, eyes glazed, and arm numb as you pump at him ruthlessly, ears only trained on his sobs and curses, his useless begs of you to stop mean absolutely nothing when you glance up to see his chin touching his chest, drool slipping past his lower lip and tears staining his cheeks. he looks like the most beautiful painting you'd ever seen, the finest statue carved from the finest marble.

• it was too much work to do much else after a while, johnny could only gasp or jolt as his cock is tortured, pulling every ounce of pleasure he could ever conjure up with every pump. at some point unbeknownst to the both of you, your lips once again made a special appearance as the softened flesh is toyed with by your tongue.

• johnny's sobs turn to barely there whimpers as he feels the knot building up again, the heat and pressure present but the hardness is nowhere to be found. even still, he cums again, body trembling and twitching as his plush, pink lips move and say something entirely soundless.

• you feel no cum paint the insides of your mouth, and you realize he was actually serious. he was shooting blanks into you, entirely spent and used for the night. you're proud of yourself, fighting a beaming grin as you admire his stupefied expression.

• pecking his softened dick one last time, you pepper kisses from his v-line all the way up to his neck. soft, featherlight kisses warm his sweaty skin up in a more comforting way than the agony did as your face buried itself into the crook of his neck, breathing his musk mixed with cologne with a content moan.

• "you did so good," you kiss tender marks into the flesh. "so good, pretty boy."

• "mhm," is all he can hum out, chin still pressed against his chest.

• "you okay?"

• "mhm."

• words feel impossible, his tongue was too heavy and his jaw was too weak to move. you giggle at his dumb face, walking off to clean him off as he laid there like a rag doll to your touch.

• you find the good side of you return as you tidy up his dress shirt, dressing his pants back on and latching his belt in place while he's practically a zombie sprawled out on the couch.

• "you needed to take a load off," you remind him of his work stress as you hover in front of him, hands on your hips after successfully cleaning the mess on his toned skin. you kiss away his tears, wiping at them with your thumb.

• "i love you," is the first coherent thing he can muster up with a sniffle, but he genuinely does mean it. he'd say it right away even if he was fully conscious. through sleepy eyes, he raises his arms and does grabby hands toward you with a lopsided smile.

• "i love you too," you return the phrase as you crawl on top of him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you snuggle up to his neck. "such a good boy for me."

• "don't say that," he murmurs, eyes shutting with a content breath. "i'll get hard again."

• "will you?" your voice is teasing, doubting the statement completely after what you pulled from him three times in a row. johnny's eyes remained closed but a smile pulls at his face.

• "no," he replies, knowing damn well it was an impossible ask. plus, he'd rather lay with you now more than anything.