#small peak into my dark and twisted mind…

[leakedtank]

UGH I LOVE MY MUTALS @garmabawls @geoxstxrs

[gamermattsgf]

Pulling on pigtails // beard Matt

Warnings: smut tehee / beard kink (is this even a thing?? lol) / cunnilingus / ‘good girl’ + ‘little girl’ / thigh kink / hair pulling / soft dom x sub fem reader / seated scissors / praise kink / spit kink / cream pie / hair pulling if you squint

Summary: you and Matt didn’t like each other at all when you were younger. In fact, you hated each other. Or so you thought. Y’know that one saying? That if a boy pulls on a girl’s pigtails it means he secretly likes her? Well… in Matt’s case that was certainly true, it just took him a little bit of growing up to realise.

Author’s notes: childhood enemies to lovers oooo, new trope time. This was a spur of the moment idea that literally popped up into my head during one of my classes. Reminder to pretend the reader is on the pill PLS. And just a quick warning that this one is going to be switching from in between diff time periods if anyone gets confused. Also beard Matt? R u kidding?? *orgasms*.

“Sometime ‘round eighth grade, remember our bodies were changing, you looked at me different…” - Ant Pile, Dominic Fike

•First grade•

You’re playing in the sandpit, just minding your own business by piling hoards of grit into the little bucket you have resting at your side. You intend to make a sandcastle, one of the best sandcastles you’ve ever made.

You stick your tongue out in concentration, your summer dress fit for the sunshine as it adorns your little body. Your sunhat is nestled on top of your head to shield you from the harsh rays that beam down from the sky whilst you busy away with playing by yourself. Packing in the sand tightly and then turning it with expert precision, your small chubby arms lift the mould carefully before you smile widely at the vision of the perfect sculpture placed before you. Well, as perfect as a sculpture of something can be to a 6 year old…

You have your back turned to your surroundings as you marvel at your creation. A mistake. Because, after you place the bucket back to the floor, someone else’s hand grabs a firm hold of one of your pigtails, yanking it backwards. You squeak as you fall onto your behind, covering the dress printed with sweet little strawberries in a myriad of sand before you twist your head at the sound of a childishly mean laugh.

‘Ouch? What was that for?’ Your voice wobbles, your glassy eyes looking at a young Matt who stands and crosses his arms in gleeful cruelty behind you, his dungarees still a little big for him and the slivers of a Spider-Man t-shirt peaking out from under the covers of his denim. He ignores you as he boyishly smirks, his dark blond hair straight and his mouth opening to bully you even further.

‘Ha! You loser. What ya doin’ building sandcastles?’ He jeers as he steps into the sandpit, his new pair of unlaced converse already scuffed up because of the amount of games of tag he’s played with his friends this morning. Suddenly, and to your utter dismay, he doesn’t give you enough time to retort back your upset before he is raising one of his legs and kicking it outwards. It barrels straight into your perfect sandcastle.

‘Building sandcastles is for babies. Babies like you!’ He ridicules as he stomps his foot into the sandcastle that you had just poured your entire heart and soul into creating not even moments ago.

Your fragile eyes well up with tears that drip from your waterline after Matt finishes crushing your craft. ‘That wasn’t very nice…’ you peep with an unmistakable frown on your face and your voice already raggedy with sobs. Matt’s beady blue eyes look at you once more, before he screws his face up and observes the way you cry, still in the position from when he had first snuck up to you and pulled on your hair teasingly.

‘Aww what’s wrong… you gonna cry?’ He feigns a pout as your nose begins to run.

Your little self feels so embarrassed that you’re crying in front of a boy, no less crying in front of Matt. He’s so mean to you. He picks on you all the time. You get no peace from him, you just wish he’d leave you alone, you liked being alone.

Pulling the stuffed animal you take everywhere you go from the floor, you hug it delicately into your chest as Matt jeers a chanting ‘Crybaby! Crybaby! Crybaby!’ Continuously whilst leaping around and pointing at you. You look to the ground shamefully, before you can’t take much more of his abuse. You don’t want to attract any more attention, not even from the parents that all flock together just yards away, huddled around the neighbourhood barbecue. And you certainly don’t want Matt causing you even more grief by calling you a snitch.

So instead, a simple whine is peeped from your throat as Matt steps back out of the sandbox, but not before playing with you once again by knocking off the little flowery bucket hat that had been fixed onto your head. You swipe it back up and dust it off angrily as he giggles and skitters off to go and play another game of hide and go seek with all of the other kids on the neighbourhood block. He turns back around once more to rudely stick his tongue out at you before leaving you all by yourself, now to wallow in your own sadness as you slump next to the destroyed sandcastle.

You just can’t help yourself as your nerve snaps, and as Matt runs away in his baggy dungarees, you squeal a high pitched and defiant ‘Maaaattt!!!’ To emphasises your anger, before huffing and petulantly crossing your arms, your head still kind of emanating a dull ache from where he had pulled your hair earlier.

Like you said, you just wished that annoying boy would leave you alone.

•Now•

‘Matt…’ you moan as he drops your thighs from the fleshy grip of his hands. You fall to your bed.

Within the soft lighting, his beard looks even darker and more prominent as he gazes at you with hungry eyes. Your heart beats down at your clit at wanting his tongue on you as soon as possible.

You and Matt are slightly older now.

At the roaring age of 20, you had bumped into him in your local grocery store after not seeing him for years. You see, you and him had gone to different high schools when you were younger, and sure, you had seen him around your neighbourhood a couple of times before, but it had never been enough to form a proper conversation with him.

Both of you had clearly been shocked at how much your appearances had changed as adults. You found it quite funny really, that the boy from your old neighbourhood block who used to crumple up balls of paper and chuck them at your head childishly, now had himself a beard.

Matt had been too stunned to speak.

Now being the mature young man that he was, he really didn’t expect to see an age old crush of his standing before him and looking just as pretty, if not prettier than she had when in her youth.

In the grocery store, he remembered smiling fondly at you as you both stood in the bread section, before reaching out one of his hands to jokingly tug on one of the pigtails. ‘Still wear around your pigtails huh?’ He had mumbled, a wave of nostalgia hitting the both of you as you looked at each other curiously. You blushed, embarrassed that the day you had decided to plait your hair into pigtails was the day that you would bump into what you considered to be your childhood bully. Typical.

Although, Matt saw you as something completely different at the time - unbeknownst to you.

You had shrugged and smiled sheepishly, replying with a ‘you’ve got a beard now…’ as you pointed towards the dark hair holding up his cheekbones sharply. Matt had softly chuckled and gently dropped his eyes to check you out. ‘Yeah I guess I do’.

As you chatted a little more, both of you decided to stick with each other for the rest of the duration of your grocery trips to catch up. Matt had even walked you out of the store and into the small parking lot. After he had put his groceries away into his car, shutting the trunk and locking it back up again, he felt the need to talk to you further and so shyly asked you out to dinner- which obviously you agreed to.

It was nice to see how much Matt had changed and really grown up, it was refreshing almost. However, that dinner date didn’t end at all like how you expected it would… because to end the evening, Matt had spent the entire night apologetically fucking his cock up into you on your couch, both of your faces sweaty and blushed, soaking in the obvious attraction you had felt towards one another. His hands had tightly intertwined with yours as he pinned them above your head and his mouth had been so close to yours the whole entire time. You remember him releasing whimpering pants against your mouth in between sloppy kisses whilst he mumbled ‘m’sorry… m’so sorry for how I treated you when we were kids…’.

But after you were finished, the endeavour didn’t end there, you didn’t cut off all contact with each other and go back to never speaking again. No. Instead, Matt had boldly asked for your updated number, since both of you now had phones, a luxury that 6 year old you two could have only dreamt of. And he texted you, again and again, and he also came over to fuck you… again and again. He was certainly a lot more straightforward with it now, that’s for sure.

Matt just couldn’t get enough of you, he was fucking obsessed with you, and he took full advantage over the fact that his 20 year old self now had the confidence to pursue you, the confidence that 8th grade Matt lacked.

And so that was that.

Now you are both here, Matt making a routine visit around to your apartment with hungry eyes and a hungry appetite.

The older boy kneels onto your bed, the mattress groaning and squeaking underneath his weight which gets you to shift in anticipated desire as he crawls right over to your awaiting body.

Slipping in between your legs, your hands splay behind you and keep you steady as his lips feather onto yours again, his tongue making easy work of snaking into your mouth and licking against your own. He kneels in between your spread legs, smoothing his hands down your rib cage and sliding them to your hips, before moaning ‘lie down angel’ into your lips, gently helping you by digging his thumbs into your tender flesh.

You fall back, your hair fanning out around you, but your head not quite reaching a pillow, so Matt smacks his lips, leaning over you so he can snatch one and slide it under your head for your comfort.

‘That better for my baby?’ He mumbles with his hands coming to rest under your arms, dangerously close to your swelled tits that had hardened upon his presence. You nod and he smirks, leaning his head down as he simultaneously moves his thumbs onto the pebbles of your nipples, yourself whimpering whilst he rubs them and kisses down into your mouth again.

Matt spent an awful lot of time during your horny fucks trying to make up for his past actions and mean comments by showering you with compliments and babying you as much as possible and it worked to flatter you into wetness every single fucking time.

‘Aren’t you just so pretty…’ he absentmindedly praises against your lips, now slipping the rest of his hands onto your tits to gently squeeze them, resulting in your rosy blush turning to an aroused red.

You swallow, bashful and nervous as he gets you to lean up so that he can slip your thin cotton top from off of your torso.

Throwing it to the floor, he sits back on his haunches to admire your bare tits, dewy and flushed whilst you look away in embarrassment.

‘Stop staring…’ you mumble shyly, but he only frowns, reaching his hand forward to grip your chin and turn it back to his face. ‘But why? They’re mine are they not? You’re my little girl… not anyone else’s… beautiful things should be looked at’ he starts, and once again, you feel the gush and drip of your arousal seeping through your underwear.

His voice dims to a whisper… ‘and beautiful things should be touched… shouldn’t they angel?’ He asks a rhetorical question before his hands find your tits again.

You falter, moaning a little when his mouth comes next, fully attaching itself to your right one so that his tongue can roll over your sensitivity, he hums and your back arches when you grip onto his floppy hair, his palms now caressing your waist. ‘Fuck…’ you quietly breathe into the air, nearly having to bite your lip and suppress a groan when Matt cheekily mumbles ‘is my little girl trying to use big girl words now?’ into you tits.

His tongue drips saliva all over them, and when he pulls away the freshly coated skin shines within the light, before he goes to suck on your left one.

Matt likes to spend extra time on every inch of your body, every inch of your skin, before he really gets what he wants, which is a taste of the delicate cherry nestled in between your honeyed thighs.

Leaning his chin on your breastbone, he watches the way you have your head thrown back in ecstasy like a lion, before he leans back up to roll both his sweater and his shirt up and over his head, soon discarding his own clothes. Then, he slips his thumbs into your pyjama shorts, taking them off and almost drooling at the sight of your baby pink panties, soft with a little bow at the stitch of them.

Some things never change. Your incessant love for the colour pink ever since you‘ve been a little kid being one of them.

This makes Matt’s cock throb, and he drips pre-come into his boxers at the sight of his little girl with her tits out, all hot and bothered just for him as he leers over her.

Suddenly, you pipe up in a gentle voice, being careful with your inquire which makes Matt’s heart melt and his cock even harder.

‘Can… can I have your special kisses now, please?’

Matt nods his head, stroking his hands down the backs of your thighs as he dreamily muses ‘of course you can angel… such a good girl for asking so nicely, aren’t you?’.

His praise naturally rolls off of his tongue like melted chocolate, and his hands make you ache. Finally, he leans down, before nudging his nose against your throbbing nerve, mumbling a starved ‘these panties are so pretty little girl… I think I’m going to keep them so that I can wrap them around my cock whilst I think of you when I touch myself’.

With that being said, you let out a strangled breath, your back yet again arching and your toes curling as his thumbs slip into the waistband of them to pull them off.

After they roll off, Matt shoves them into his back jean pocket, wasting no time in diving back down and spreading your thighs open for him whilst he caresses them. He squeezes them when you hiss at the feeling of his tongue licking into you, his head nestled right in between your thighs so that he can look up at your face over-protectively.

Matt’s facial hair is long enough for you to feel his bearded face harshly graze along each side of your thigh whilst his jaw works mercilessly. The rough hairs rub against your core when his nose nudges against your folds to get better access and you arch your back into the air at the sensation of it.

‘Matt- that feels so good… please-’ you beg, not being able to help yourself as you grab his hair and keep him there, squeezing your thighs around his head so that you can guiltily feel his facial hair better as he licks into you.

‘Yeah? Am I treating my little girl well hm? Am I taking care of her like I said I would?’ He teases, bringing his face up to look right into your eyes from between your legs, obviously happy with the noises he has managed to force out of you thus far.

You nod your head, humming aggressively before you buck your hips up, wanting him to continue for a little while longer… and so he does, except this time, something changes within the swirling motions of his tongue.

Instead of his usual strokes and licks, he slows his wet muscle down, making you realise within the suggestive motions that he is spelling out an ‘M’ on your clit. After the ‘M’ he slowly kisses it once, before spelling out an ‘A’. Your stomach drops and churns with desire at the possessive yet erotic nature of the action.

Soon after a continuation of kisses, two ‘T’s are spelt out, and finally an ‘S’…

Matt’s…

Your clit belongs to Matt, and he makes that very clear with the flick of his tongue and the look he gives you as he gazes up at you whilst spitting on it to get it wetter with his own saliva.

‘You’re fucking mine’ he throatily speaks with a deep hoarseness to his voice, and your stomach rises and falls with laboured breaths.

‘Yes… yes I’m all yours!’ You whine into the air, looking down at Matt just as lustfully as he looks up at you, your past hatred of each other all washing away as you find comfort within the tangle of your limbs.

Then Matt hums. ‘You’ve been such a good girl for me, letting me have you like that…’ he strokes your thighs yet again in adoration, resting his bearded chin on your pubic bone whilst lustily flitting his eyes up to you.

You smile at how similar yet different he looks to you now, both of you enthralled completely with each other. Past pains and experiences are wiped clean from the new slate you selected for your lives as soon as you had bumped into each other that one time in the grocery store.

•Fourth grade•

You’re on a field trip with your fourth grade class to your local aquarium.

You mind your own business, sticking out like a sore thumb as you trail behind everyone else, walking at the back by yourself. But you don’t feel lonely, you feel content at finally having peace. As the rest of your class chatters in groups happily, squealing and marvelling at all of the colourful fish, you prefer to admire them in quiet silence, walking right up to the glass and staring at their delicate fins before each time, seeing that the rest of the class has moved on and running to catch up with them.

You had just exited the underwater tunnel through the shark tank, looking at the floor to see their sleek grey bodies gliding underneath you before entering the jellyfish room. There are tanks upon tanks of different colourful jellies, some poisonous and some harmless, but all of them equally as beautiful with their trailing tendrils of stingers. You gasp quietly, your eyes sparkling as you run up to a massive tank full of a glowing purple and green species that float and dance about in the deep blue water aimlessly.

You press your hands up to the glass in childlike wonder, your nose almost touching the thick material whilst you scan over them and try to count how many are in the tank.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes watch your back, he too, by himself as his group of friends had left him to go and look at a tank full of long orange jellyfish. He hides behind a small tank in the centre of the room, shyly peaking around the corner at you and trying to think of a way he can poke at you.

He bites his nails and hums, wanting an excuse to walk up and tease you since he hasn’t already done so today. Ultimately, he decides to creep up behind you, smirking quickly at the creative idea that shoots through his mind whilst looking at your dad’s old baseball cap sitting on your head.

His quiet walk soon turns into a quick bursting sprint, allowing him to race up to you and pluck your hat from off of your head before you have the time to register who it even is. You yelp and spin around in fear, your hand slapped on top of your now bare head as you look at a proud Matt in horror and fear. Your heart rate quickens. You were so scared of him.

‘HEY! Give me that back!!’ You bravely demand, your attention now distracted from the jellyfish and fixating upon the wicked boy who smirks and holds it up above his head. You go to reach for it, but realise in dismay that you aren’t tall enough. Matt had annoyingly had a boyish growth spurt over the winter break and was now a couple of inches taller than you.

You feel sick in worry as your heart rattles against your ribcage.

‘Ha! Nice try’ he cackles, extending his hand up even further when you wobble onto your tiptoes to try and reach for it. To steady your balance, you have to grapple your hand onto one of Matt’s shoulders to stretch upwards and he secretly blushes, not too sure as to why your touches seems to give him conflicted feelings of affection. You whine when he only leans up onto his tiptoes too, again, pushing your hat up further from your reach.

‘Matt this isn’t funny’ you struggle, smacking your lips and extending out your body as far as you can, before he starts to wave about his arm to dodge your clawed hand. He only giggles deviously in return.

Once, just once, you’d wish for him to not pester you when you’re minding your own business, you were enjoying your little day trip out, and this just ruined it all.

‘Yes it is’ he retorts back. But before he can take his jest any further, your fourth grade teacher Mrs Banks notices your little ruckus and decides to intervene, much to your immediate relief.

‘Matthew Sturniolo!’ She calls and Matt suddenly goes rigid, the hairs on the back of his neck raising as he turns to look at her sheepishly whilst her short high heels clack towards you two. You relax, knowing that Matt is probably most likely going to be told off. And you’re right when she berates him and forces him to hand you back your hat and apologise.

For the rest of the school trip you stay glued to Mrs Bank’s side, fearful that trailing at the back will only make you more of a target for Matt’s vicious onslaught of teasing once again. But Matt stays put with the rest of his friends, only giving you periodic glances and death stares after being chastised by your teacher.

You went home that day feeling dejected and Matt went home feeling confused and frustrated. Because why is it, that he enjoyed teasing you so much. So much so to the extent where he didn’t think he could go a day without it?

•Now•

‘Do you think you’re ready for my cock now angel…?’ He questions, before answering the question himself when he leans upwards to unbuckle his belt, the metal jingling as he threads it through his belt loopholes and onto the floor.

Then his pants come next, leaving him almost as exposed as you, before he bends back down and digs his hands underneath your body, scooping you up effortlessly and cushioning you into his lap. His hands freely trail, groping and squeezing your thighs so hard that when he removes them, they leave little red marks and crescent moon nail imprints into your flesh.

You kiss frantically once again, desperate to engulf your scents over each other’s skin whilst you place your thumbs on either sides of his cheeks. His tongue is hot and sticky, your connection so messy that sometimes you accidentally get spit over the skin around your mouths. As you stroke your fingers over his jaw and cheekbones, you feel his bristly facial hair and clench your soaked thighs at its roughness, remembering the way it sharply rubbed against the insides of your spread legs just moments ago.

‘Please- please can I have your thigh…?’ You politely ask into his lips, your beg coming out breathless and whimpered. Matt sighs, ‘but baby… I wanna have your gut…’. You pull away and pout in sadness, and Matt’s heart sinks at the look on your face, again, the guilt of his past coming to haunt him. Just then, he thinks of an idea.

‘Why don’t we compromise then…’ your face lights up and you nod.

‘What do you want me to do…?’ You trail off and clench again when Matt pinches one of your thighs. Matt smirks, and then crunches his stomach so that he can lower his back onto your mattress, yourself still sitting on his lap. ‘Take these off angel…’ he mumbles, referring to his boxers that conceal his dripping cock. You obey him without question, the angel comment driving you to the edge as you hook your hands into his pants and slide them down. You get up from off of his lap momentarily to remove them from his haired thighs and toss them onto the floor before returning your full attention to the way his cock stands and almost visibly pulses.

‘What now?’ You breathe and watch Matt’s grin as his head props itself up onto your stack of pillows. ‘Back on my lap n’turn around… let me see that ass’ he instructs lightly, his voice soothing and encouraging as you squint your eyes and turn your back to him in confusion. Swinging one of your legs over to his other hip, you sit on his pelvic bones, the sight of his sticky red tip dripping from just below you.

‘Spit on it.’ He demands once again, this time in a more commanding tone. Again, you do exactly as he says and let a thick string of saliva pour from out of your mouth. It splatters right onto his head and he hisses as it slowly rolls its way down the left side of his thickness. ‘Good girl…’ he struggles, his voice forced through his gritted teeth.

‘Now put one of your legs in between mine and sit on my cock’, you obey him quickly, your core aching to feel his shaft forcing your walls apart as you hoist you left leg in between his so that you can now sit on top of him at an angle. Gravitating upwards, you grip onto him and push his tip in between your folds. Slowly sliding down you let out a gulping pant before fully sitting your ass back down over his bulging hipbone. Matt tips his head back and feathers his eyes shut before willing himself to slide the thigh nestled in between your two legs upwards.

He brings it up just far enough for you to grind your clit over it when you start to move.

‘There’s your thigh angel’.

He smirks whilst looking at your back, your ass so tantalisingly sat on him that he could burst at any moment. He feels the heat from your clit emanating towards his thigh readily and it makes his mouth water.

Your chest heaves as you look down at his haired thigh wedging open your legs, the hard muscle of it brushing against your clit ever so slightly. After a couple of moments of silence and heaving breaths, Matt decides to reach out his hands to smooth them against the curves of your hips, his palms splayed on the sides of your asscheeks. ‘Is my little girl gonna move then, hm?’ He hums tauntingly, before helping you a little by rocking you forward and flexing his thigh towards you so that you can grind it onto your clit.

Your breath hitches and one of your hands comes flying up to firmly grasp ahold of his bent kneecap, the other one gripping onto the bedsheets at your side.

He starts to move you gently, his cock slipping in and out of your cunt slickly whilst your weeping clit is continuously stimulated on his thigh. You bite your lip, tossing your head back and arching your spine into the rest of his thigh whilst he keeps his eyes trained on the way your ass shakes gently with every swivel of your bouncing hips.

‘Thaaaat’s it… that’s my good girl’ he coos up to you with his raspy voice, admiring you from the back whilst you get off to him in the scissored seating arrangement.

‘Matt… this feels so good- please don’t… don’t stop…’ you whine through a moan, twisting your neck back slightly so that you can watch the way Matt’s mouth opens through pants, his cheeks pink with bashfulness as he guides your hips with his veiny hands. He hits all of your sweet spots at once this way.

‘Don’t worry angel face… m’not stopping until I make you cum the amount of times I made you cry…’.

•Eighth grade•

Matt and you are 13 now. Both going into eighth grade. Matt had been away at a summer camp all break and within that expanse of time you had developed a bit, both inwardly and more importantly… outwardly.

When you both return to school he isn’t quite expecting the sudden change in your appearance and he wonders how someone could morph so much in such a small amount of time… Going into your teenage years is certainly a perilous time for both of you because for one, your bodies are changing and your hormones are only just starting to activate properly, and two, Matt is finally getting to understand that possibly… affectionate feelings of his turn into acts of bullying when he likes someone.

That someone being you.

Matt’s 13-year-old self stands there, with gangly, growing limbs as he quietly ogles at you from afar, feeling awkward and self conscious in his own teenage boy body. What are these fucking feelings? Why are they so confusing? And why can’t they just leave him alone?

He watches you walk down the corridor towards him, his heart nervously thumping in his chest. He thinks you’re going to just walk past him, until he sees that you’re walking straight for him instead. He freezes, and almost pisses himself in fear with his fingers twitching and his eyes widened.

Quick Matt, think of something mean to say to her before it’s too late.

‘Excuse me’ you say bravely, trying to force down your nerves in front of a Matt, who clearly came back from summer camp with a gorgeous tan, his also usually dark brown hair bleached slightly lighter thanks to the sun. You thought it had been odd when his blonde hair back in first grade had slowly started to darken until he had turned into a brunette, but now you were used to it.

‘What?’ Matt mumbles, a little spaced out.

You raise your eyebrows at him. ‘Um… you’re standing in front of my locker I think’ you say, scared as to why he could be standing in front of your locker. Matt tried his hardest to shove down any nerves in front of you before scoffing and stepping to the side. He rolls his eyes.

‘Oh great, more than a hundred lockers in school and I get stuck next to yours’. Ah, so that’s why he is standing here… his locker is right beside yours. Great. You wince. You anticipate a mean comment from him every time you interact with him, but it doesn’t get any easier taking it. Guess that summer camp spirit he would have been surrounded with didn’t change his tune as much as you had hoped it would have.

‘Believe me, I’m not happy about it either’ you spit back, and shove past his lean figure to get to your locker. You start to put in your combination.

Matt blows a huff of air from out of his lips, crossing his arms and fidgeting about awkwardly behind you.

‘Knowing- knowing my luck… I’ll probably get stuck in the same class as you too’ he stutters, inwardly scolding himself for literally losing the ability to summon his normally quick witted attitude. Instead he stumbles over his words like an idiot. You only shake your head and sigh, shoving a note pad into the metal compartment before slamming it shut and re-locking it. ‘Whatever Matt’ you scoff and strut away, leaving Matt almost gripping the wall and heaving a sigh of relief when you’re gone.

But then later that day, it really is just your luck. Because both you and Matt end up walking into the exact same math class together, the two of you collectively sighing, but for vastly different reasons.

•Now•

‘Fuck you always feel so good’ Matt whines deliriously. ‘You’re perfect… just perfect for me’. The air around the both of you is hot, your skin rough and sticky with sweat whilst the sound of the bed squeaking underneath your bounces harmonises with your moans. You feel like crying in ecstasy, you love it when Matt’s cock makes you feel so full, because it helps to sate your appetite and you look forward to him coming around everytime he texts that he’s going to drop by.

You are so fond of how mature he is, how old he looks. It makes you squeeze your thighs together. And now he grows his beard out just for you because you say you like it so much, until it gets a little too long and he has to shave it again. But whenever it’s at that perfect stage, he always spends multiple nights around at your apartment, just so that you can utilise it. Matt doesn’t mind, he fucking loves it. Anything to make you happy.

‘I’m… I’m your good girl’ you breathe back to him, his thigh now almost soaking with sticky precum and spit whilst you grind you clit onto him and ride his cock simultaneously. ‘You’re my good girl’ he responds back reassuringly, the possessiveness in his tone only making you squeeze around him more. He doesn’t bother to bite his hand to hide his whimpers of pleasure because he knows you deserve to hear them, deserve to see the way you make him feel after all of these long winded years of unsolved feelings and pain.

You swivel on him a little longer, your tits bouncing rhythmically before pressure knots your stomach tightly together. Your mouth hangs slack as your shoulders heave more than normal. ‘Baby… baby I think I- I’m gonna cum’ you utter a high pitched breath to him, and he nods, rubbing his thumbs over your ass cheeks comfortingly as he helps speed you up a little faster. It drives him fucking feral when you call him baby, because he’s so fucking selfish and possessive over you.

‘Go on angel… cum all over me like a good girl’ he states once again, which is enough for the tight tension within your gut to snap. Waves upon waves of euphoria rush all down your thighs, your high lasting for a good while. Within this time, Matt’s breath similarly hitches, and it’s not long before he’s creaming his load into you too, ropes of cum dripping down your walls and around his now extremely slimy member whilst he thrusts you into oblivion and exemplifies your orgasm.

After they are over, you messily collapse backwards, your chest heaving thickly as you laugh. Your sweaty skins lies flushed against Matt’s whilst you rest on top of him. He smiles gently at your little giggle before scooping his arms up to tuck them underneath your tits. Using his upper body strength, he gently slides you up his torso a little farther so that he can cuddle you into him closely. He kisses your head gently, before moving on to kiss the shell of your ear as well. In doing this, his cock is slowly removed from your spent hole, allowing you to both relax in tired exhaustion.

Matt closes his eyes whilst nuzzling his nose into your hair. You delicately place your hands onto his forearms that wrap tightly around your chest. You stare at the ceiling before mumbling ‘who would’ve thought…’ down to Matt, who simply grumbles in questioning from below you. ‘That the guy who I thought used to hate me ended up in my bed a couple of years later’. You snigger and Matt smacks his lips, opening one of his eyes to turn and peek at your side profile from below you.

‘I never hated you… not really…’.

Author’s notes p.2: I just love Dominic Fike bro, any excuse to put his songs in one of my stories. No because I actually love this plot line, aren’t they just cuties?? I hope u guys were okay with visualising the position I had them in bc I gotta tell you, I was squinting my eyes trying to write it so that it made sense lmaoo. @luvmila444 u are so so welcome for this, sorry for the wait bbg :(. Also the blogs that are in bold on my taglist- I’m so sorry but for some reason tumblr isn’t recognising your names so I don’t think I’ve been able to tag u properly :/. But anyways I hope u all enjoyed this, and as always, ask/request anything, I love answering shit hehe.

Taglist: @lovingmattysposts @sturniolosreads @luv4kozume @luvmila444 @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @asturniolos @thesturniolos @matthemunch @sturnioloenthusiast @vecnasnose0 @chr1sgirl4life @kvtie444 @ellie-luvsfics @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @luverboychris @isabellehoran @carolsturns1 @meanttomeet @rootbeerworshiper @lovergirl4387 @1800chokedathoe @sophie21153-blog

[foli-vora]

radio static

pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this gif is a fucking mess but i refuse to fight with photoshop any longer otherwise i will literally throw my computer out of the fucking window. anyway. ep 1 got me all kinds of fucked up. enjoy some porn with very minimal plot.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: very brief mention of something happening but no details and no spoilers. swearing, domestic softness, couples banter, SMUT 18+ ONLY: oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, brief handjob, nipple biting, creampie

It’s a hazy roll of pleasure, the bliss swimming through your bloodstream and stretching out along your limbs in waves upon waves of static heat.

He’s taking you nowhere fast, instead choosing to take his time, bouncing between leisurely working at your clit with firm, wide strokes of his tongue and dipping lower to force the muscle into your cunt and taste you deeper.

The threat of the climb lingers in the pit of your stomach, curdling low in your core and twisting further with every slick hot swipe and circle over your swollen clit. He’s doing it on purpose, dragging out your pleasure and intent on making you beg for it.

Soon—the words are already building in your throat.

A small part of you, the very small part of your mind that stays aware of what’s going on beyond Joel’s mouth, picks up on the sudden halt to the soft music that had been falling from the speaker next to your head, but it’s not enough to pry your attention away completely, not until the words destruction and mass incident suddenly break through the fog of lazy ecstasy hanging over your mind.

Would that explain the increase of emergency vehicles you’d seen on the roads lately? Is something happening? The reporter didn’t seem to be too panicked, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. It was their job to keep the calm forced into their voices. Mass incident? Destruction? What could it all mean? Were you all in danger?

“Can you turn that up?” You ask quietly, now distracted from the lips that break away from your cunt and press along the heated skin of your thigh. “The news—”

“Jesus,” Joel mutters against you before pulling away and looking up at you, “I’m out here with my head between your thighs, and you’re listenin’ to the fuckin’ news? You tryin’ to tell me somethin’, honey?”

“No, it just sounds important is all. Just for a minute, baby—please?”

He huffs quietly against you. 

Chuckling softly, you jerk away from the blunt edges of teeth that gently dig into your flesh with a startled cry and swat at him. His tell tale smile curls against your skin before he lifts himself up with a low groan, bracing his arms on either side of your torso and reaching over to turn the dial on his alarm radio.

You ache at the loss of his mouth, your clit throbbing from the sudden lack of attention. The desperate clench of your core is almost enough to shove him back down there and forget the whole fucking thing.

He couldn’t seem to care less about what they were saying, returning to licking and nipping at your skin, planting kiss after kiss along your collarbone and trying very hard to pry your attention away from the story falling from the speaker.

He succeeds for the most part, your eyes fluttering when a hot mouth encloses over a nipple and sucks at the stiffened peak firmly, his large calloused hand wrapping around the other and squeezing the supple flesh greedily.

The news… focus. What was that about injuries? God, who cares—

“Joel,” you sigh softly, winding your fingers through his ruffled hair and tugging at the dark tresses, “I’m trying to listen—”

“And I was tryin’ t’have a nice meal, but someone had other plans—the goddamn news,” he rumbles in rough amusement, grinning against your tit before tracing his way to the other side. “You just let me know when you’re done and I’ll get right back to borin’ you.”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you groan, unable to keep the growing smile from tugging at your lips and back arching from the teeth that pluck at your nipple, your features briefly creasing from the shock of delicious pain. “Oh fu—again—”

He does. He nips and bites until you’re squirming under him, your hands clawing at his shoulders. His next bite is sharper than the last and enough to tear a whine from your throat from the harsh force of it. The sharp sting shoots straight to your core, the muscles of your cunt tightening as heat continues to curdle in the pit of your stomach. 

A slick swipe of tongue soothes the leftover ache, the muscle winding round and round the abused bud and all thoughts of listening to the stupid news leave your mind.

Your fingers tighten in his hair and pull, tearing him away from your skin and diving forward to meld your mouth against his. It’s messy the instant his lips part, the kiss full of tongue and teeth with the taste of your cunt still lingering and now melting into your tastebuds.

“Careful,” he murmurs into your mouth, grinding the thick, hardened feel of his covered cock against your core, “don’t want to miss the weather report.”

“Dick,” you moan softly, feeling the soft cotton of his sweats dampen as they drag against your folds, “you know damn well you weren’t boring me.”

His chuckle is low, merely a rumble in his chest, but it sticks in his throat when you slip a hand beneath his waistband and wrap your fingers firmly around his hard cock, the thick length of it swelling in your hold. His hips jolt, briefly thrusting into your grip, and you’re the one chuckling now, your lips curled up against the brush of his facial hair.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?”

You tighten your hold, brushing the pad of your thumb over the weeping tip, smearing precum over his smooth skin before starting a steady pace up and down his length.

“Fuck—” his face crumbles, eyes slamming shut as the little dent between his brows deepens. “Move your hand out of the way, pretty girl, m-move—”

His fingers shake as they bat your hand out of the way, the long digits quickly wrapping around his cock and giving it one firm pump before lining up with your entrance and pushing forward. You hide your face in his shoulder, muffling your moan against his hot skin as his balls press tight against your ass.

“So fuckin’ warm,” he rasps into your throat, bracing himself on his elbows and encasing you into the mattress. “So—fuck, honey—”

He gives another thrust, pulling halfway out before rocking back forward, soon finding a steady rhythm that has you clutching at his back. The sounds falling your lips are caught on skin, the remaining sound of the muted cocktail of whines and groans dampened by the music now playing again.

“Joel, baby—” you breathe, running a hand along his throat and brushing a thumb over his lips as he works your body higher, his pubic bone rubbing and pushing against your aching clit with every upwards thrust, “—I love you.”

He physically shudders at your words, the cage of his arms hot and familiar. He nods, mouth hungry and messy as it tries to claim yours and you’re desperate to match his energy. The bed starts to give a creak with every steady plunge of his hips, and his hand flies up to clutch at the headboard, his biceps tensing with the effort he puts into silencing the bed. 

“I—s-shit—I love you,” he pants, the hot breath of his sharp exhales washing over your mouth. “I’m not—I can’t—fuck, play with yourself, honey—p-please. Make yourself cum, show me—”

His thighs roll up beneath yours and soon he’s rising away from you to kneel, keeping a hand locked around the top of the headboard and using it as leverage to thrust up harder into your cunt. It’s takes every bit of energy to not fucking wail, one hand flying up to brace yourself and the other falling to where your clit throbs.

He watches, frown heavy and focused, as you press the pads of your fingertips to the swollen nerve, the muscles in your thighs twitching and tensing with the delicious attention. 

It takes only a few circles of your deft fingers to send you over the long built up edge Joel had lazily built in your core, your face turning to hide in your outstretched arm to quieten your sounds of pure fucking bliss. He soon follows after you, urged on by the flutter and tightening of your hot walls around him.

The muscles along his jaw tighten with the effort he uses to keep quiet, his face creased and lost in his own waves of ecstasy as he fills you. Your cunt tightens around him one final time, the warmth of his cum soon seeping out from where his cock disappears into you.

He drops onto his back next to you, automatically raising his arm to welcome you into his side and you press into his body heat, pressing a wet kiss to his chest and trying to calm your breathing.

“Shit, were we too loud?”

You chuckle quietly, rest your chin over the hand splayed over his chest. “She sleeps like her daddy—she wouldn’t have heard a thing.”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“That you guys are heavy sleepers, and it’s a surprise your alarm clock actually wakes you most of the time,” you grin, the curl of it widening when he rolls his eyes.

The steady blink of his clock catches your eye and you soften, stretching to press a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling them twitch at your feather light touch. He sighs calmly under your affection, his dark eyes openly searching yours and warming when you catch him.

“Oh, would you look at that,” you murmur softly, “happy birthday, handsome.”

-

i was gonna start all diff tags but i really cbf right now. i’ve just used my everything pp one - if you’re not interested soz x

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16​, @iceclaw101​, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard​, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @timpletance​, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx​, @dnxgma​, @astronomeoww​, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin​, @mando-amando​, @mx-ferelden​, @trinkets01​, @jxvipike​, @thesmutslut​, @thereisaplaceintheheart​, @scentedthingtidalwave​, @mwltwo​, @loveslide​, @artsymaddie​, @untitledarea​, @sukunababe​, @emiemiemiii​, @your-slutty-gf​, @wisecolornight​

[some-bunniii]

Even the Devil Mourns

・❥ You awake one night to find your husband, Lucifer Morningstar, missing from your side. You go out to search, only to see him distraught in a pool of tears.

x: reader is g/n, no use of y/n. more luci angst popped into my head yall, sorry not sorry

~ 3.2k words

Warnings: Angst!! Hellish themes! Descriptions of death & Satanic rituals ft. human sacrifices!

You awoke suddenly, sweat beading on your forehead and heart pounding in your chest. The silken, satin sheets slid across your naked back as you stirred. The cool breeze across your exposed skin sent goosebumps up your spine.

What time was it? What was that sound that had pulled you from your beauty sleep?

Your face was still buried into the cool pillow beneath you. Its plush, velvety touch beckoning you back into slumber. You snuggled deeper into the pillow’s embrace, your pulse slowing as you began to drift off. 

And then, you heard it again. Echoing from the cracked doorway across the bedroom, emanating from somewhere down the hallway. A stifled sound, like someone holding in a large intake of breath. You shifted your face off of the pillow slightly, straining your ears. 

Sleep was slowly ebbing from your mind, as you stirred underneath the sheets once more. The strange noise piqued your interest as you pulled the covers away from your face, the room beginning to feel unusually cold.

It was night, you guessed, since your eyelids were still bathed in darkness. Usually, the morning light would peak from the drapes that covered the large glass panes that bordered your bedroom. The rays of light would bask your bed sheets in a red glow, and you would have nestled your face closer against the soft, supple skin of your beloved. His arm lifting to snake around your waist, pulling you closer. Hot breath tickling against your lashes as he placed a drowsy kiss on your temple.

Your beloved.

Lucifer.

Where was he? You couldn’t feel the warmth that seemed to seep from his very being, enveloping you like a gentle embrace without even touching the man. You couldn't feel Lucifer beside you at all, not even the weight of his figure on the mattress. 

The fallen angel always had some part of his body against yours. Whether that was his head snuggled against your chest, or his legs wrapped around yours. There was always some sort of contact with Lucifer, no matter the time of day. 

His fingers always seemed to graze against yours as he handed you another one of his candy apple creations. The feeling of his hand resting on the small of your back protectively, as you took a drunken, wobbly step backward as the two of you enjoyed another romantic evening filled with laughter and soft whispers.

But, now. There was none of that. For the first time since you began sharing a bed, Lucifer wasn’t here to greed your tired form. Which made you uneasy, and you lifted yourself slowly from the mattress, renewed energy feeding your tired muscles as you rose to a sitting position.

Twisting your legs, you pivoted until your feet floated over the edge of the bed, before lowering them to the ground. Your skin met the cold, firm wooden floor beneath as you inhaled a deep breath. Sitting there for a few moments, you allowed yourself a little more time to wake, before shifting your weight to your legs and rising.

Your hands reached for the hanger beside your bedside table, a dark red that called out to you with warmth. The thick, plush garment enveloped your fingers as you pulled it from the hook. Wrapping the robe around your semi-nude figure, you quickly shuffled your feet into the fuzzy yellow duck slippers neatly tucked beneath the hanger.

Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room, the only source of light teasing you from the doorway. The door was opened only an inch or two, but the familiar orange glow that flickered from the hallway still reached your bedroom even from the lounge. 

Reaching an arm down, you let your fingers gently graze against the marble surface of your bedside table, until your pink landed on the small item of value. Its smooth, metal surface slid against your finger as it nestled around your digit.

Your wedding ring, something you never parted without. Even in a nightly search like this one, where you weren’t sure what exactly you were going to find outside of the safe confines of your chamber. Lucifer had a ring just like yours, but in the darkness, you couldn’t see whether he had taken it with him when he departed.

Snaking your arms together, you held them closely to your chest as you crossed the distance, using your foot to quietly peel the door farther open. It creaked quietly, and you grimaced at the noise. Turning slightly, you shimmied through the gap, the soles of your slippers meeting the carpet in the hallway. 

You turned your head towards the orange glow, that flickered around the corner. The pitiful noises beckoned you as you tiptoed across the corridor, past the large paintings hung across the walls. Scenes of rushing, deep blue waters cascading over glittering rocks as it fell into a pool of sunlit waves. 

On the edge of the large waterfall, was a mother grizzly bear and her cubs, their small frames hanging from their mother’s legs in playful banter. The large bear’s caramel-brown coat stuck out from the sharp, gray edges of the rocks standing tall behind her. 

Her snout was lifted towards the cascading water, her mouth parted to show sharp, white teeth as the shadows of long, pink fish leaped from the edge of the falls, their bodies barely grazing her jaws as she snapped at their forms. 

You weren’t particularly aware of where that painting had come from, but it was a very beautiful scene of life on Earth, a very rare type of piece to find down in Hell.

There was one, that you favored over them all, of you and Lucifer. It depicted a midnight-red sky, the large pentagram glowing above the two figures on a large balcony. Vines snaked around the pillars on each side of the terrace, blue and purple flowers blooming across their green, prickly skin. The familiar face on the left, a pearlescent glow against the red backdrop, wore a playful look on his features. One hand holding a wine glass, the other snug against the figure on the right, you. 

You stood beside Lucifer, a large smile plastered across your face as the two of you leaned comfortably against the tall marble balcony railing. It seemed like the two of you were at some kind of party, perhaps one of those annual meetups all the Sins and friends have away from the prying eyes of Hell. Lucifer’s attire was a more casual fit for a king, his favorite red-and-white striped waistcoat, over that clean, white dress shirt. You were also adorned in an eye-catching outfit that displayed your power and statue of royalty, without making you the center of attention.

The two of you looked so happy, as you leaned into each other with lips curved into goofy grins. For being the highest-ranking figures in Hell, the two of you looked so natural and carefree in this moment. A moment you cherished every time you glanced at the portrait hanging comfortably along the wall during your walks between rooms.

Unfortunately, the light illuminating from the end of the hall wasn’t strong enough for you to get a good glimpse at it, as you neared the corner. You planted your back against the wall, peeking your head slightly out of the edge. You couldn’t see the fireplace from here, but the sound of wood crackling as it split from the flames echoed through the room.

You could hear the strange noises much clearer now, a shaky breath followed by quiet, soothing murmurs. Sniffling, before another one of those stifled sobs. 

Your breath quickened, muscles tensing as you listened for another moment. The voice intermixed with the sounds was awfully familiar, and you couldn’t understand what would make the owner so distraught.

You calmed your beating heart, before pivoting to stand in the entryway of the lounge, your gaze landing on the figure curled on a piece of furniture. Their side faced you, and you partially see their features, illuminated by the orange glow of the flames.

Across the room, was Lucifer. He sat on top of a dark red ottoman, only a few feet from the fireplace as he stared into it, lost in thought. He wore his white dress shirt loosely against his figure, the buttons partially undone in the front, exposing his collarbone. Lucifer’s arms were wrapped around his legs, and his knees were hugged to his chest. His head limply lay against one of his kneecaps, his head out-turned towards you. 

It wasn’t until you approached him, and your footsteps creaked against the floor, did the sullen man perk up from his ball of comfort. Tears glistened against his pale features, and his quivering lip curved into a shocked frown. The man’s disheveled hair bounced softly as he lifted his head, those platinum-blonde curls practically glowing like candlelight.

“Oh, Honey!” Lucifer gasped, his head whipping to face the opposite direction of you. His hand rubbed across his face hastily as he straightened himself atop the sofa. He fixed his loose collar, clearing his throat as he fixed his posture. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? You should just go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s hard to sleep when you see your husband like this at one in the morning,” you responded, taking a few steps closer. Your tone was firm, prompting him to speak more on the subject. 

Lucifer stayed silently, the only noise between the two of you were soft pops and crackles from the burning wood. Fear gnawed at you watching him ignore your words. Your husband always tried to hide his emotions at first, masking them behind a smile while he let his mind drift off to such dark thoughts. Except, with you, he always came undone and spilled the beans like a teenage girl at a sleepover.

But, your presence was not breaking him just yet, as he averted his gaze. In the faint light, you swore his fingers were shaking just a tad against the fabric of his shirt. Should you prod him further? There was no way you were going to leave him to drown in whatever sorrows he was battling right now.

“It happened again,” Lucifer finally breathed out after a moment. His fingers harshly squeezed the sleeves of his dress shirt, his chest shuddering as he inhaled another shaky breath. His eyes were still trained on the flames licking against the metal barrier, as he refused to meet your gaze.

You stood there, your arms crossed against your chest as you shivered. The heat of the fireplace felt so welcoming to your tired bones, but the sight of Lucifer sullen upon the ottoman kept your feet frozen in place.

“What happened again?” You whispered, taking a step forward, careful not to cross any boundary that could set your husband off further. This was a side of him you rarely saw. Yes, he was an emotional being, but the distress Lucifer was exuding was making you more nervous after every second he remained silent.

“I was summoned, to one of those… rituals.” Lucifer spat out that last word with disgust, a growl underlying his tone.

You tensed. Oh, one of those.

Since Lucifer fell, and became the King of Hell, his soul was chained to the realm. Unable to cross to Heaven or Earth, even with another’s magic. The fallen angel was stuck, cursed to watch the cruelty and hate that sprung from his past actions.

Except, through the slaughter of a newly-born lamb, could he enter into the mortal plane. Only to answer the call of whoever had landed the killing blow. Something about being punished to only view your creation through ‘the blood of the innocent’ or some stupid Heavenly shit like that. You never asked him what transpired during those summonings, and he never spoke of it.

There was one kind of summoning, that you knew of, that was different from the rest. Cults that worshipped demons and monsters, perpetuated suffering in exchange for a supposed blessing from the fiery pits below. Lucifer always seemed… off, after those times.

“I always feel it, before it happens,” your husband started, his hand raking across his scalp as he pulled the tangled blonde mess behind his forehead. “Like a tugging at my shirt, but from deep inside, like my soul. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I ran to the bathroom. Just as I was pulled through the portal to Earth.”

Those images flashed through Lucifer’s mind as he spoke. Large, crumbling pillars dot the perimeter. Torches circled a thick, wooden stake planted into the ground. Satanic symbols were woven into posts and burned into the ground around the grassy, hidden clearing.

A bloodied figure lay limp against its surface, rope wrapping around their thin frame as it kept them in place. Flames licked at their feet, the stake beginning to catch fire as they writhed in pain from the intense heat.

Hooded. figures stood in the shadows, chanting some awful, ancient tune. Asking for blessings and powers Lucifer couldn’t even grant them.

“It was a girl, I don’t know how old. But, she was young, not even full grown,” Lucifer started, his voice shaky as the words slipped painfully from his tongue, “When I got there, she was already burning. Screaming in agony, pleading for mercy.”

You grimaced, trying not to picture the scene. The metallic tang of blood that no doubt had permeated the air. The stench of burning flesh, as it sizzled off its owner. 

Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill from your mouth before you held it in. Leaving you to wonder how many times Lucifer had witnessed such a thing to have better composure to the scene than you.

“Do you know who she cried out to during her last moments?” Lucifer turned to you, his features glowing as his eyes glistened with tears. A bitter smile bloomed on his lips, a dark chuckle escaping his throat. “God! She begged Him to save her! To strike those hooded men down and end her suffering.” 

You said nothing, instead taking a few steps closer to your husband's quivering form, only a few feet from him now as Lucifer spoke with a pained tone.

“Do you know what ended her suffering? The flames that ate away her skin.” He snarled, his eyes turning blood-red as he pivoted towards you. You reeled back, your heartbeat quickening at his bared teeth.

“There was nothing I could—nothing I can do,” He cried to you, his tone wobbly, desperate. As if he was trying to convince you that was the truth, that he didn’t let such terrible actions go unpunished purposely. “I’m always too late when they call for me. Too much damage already.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to him. You would have never had that kind of idea in your head, you knew Lucifer wasn’t that twisted of a man. 

“And imagine, when those bastards finally kick the bucket, they’ll come here,” Lucifer spat hoarsely, venom dripping from his words, “another citizen that I’m expected to protect and rule over. I’m expected to care about, as King. What a cruel joke Heaven has played on me.”

Lucifer sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. His horns jutted out of his head as he fumed silently at himself. Those tears threatened to spill from his pretty eyes once more as he lifted a hand with an anguished growl, and Lucifer raked his claws down his face. 

You gasped, watching blood spill from the small gashes across his cheek, glowing sickly against the blazing light from the fireplace.

“Don’t do that!” You begged, lacing your fingers with his, pulling his hand to your chest as you kneeled before him. The golden liquid spread across your fingertips from his damp claws, and your face screwed into anguish, “Don’t hurt yourself, none of this is your fault. Absolutely none..”

Your finger rubbed against a small, smooth surface on Lucifer’s hand. Glancing down, your eyes followed the glint of his wedding ring as it shined in the basking light. Your heart fluttered, and you sighed.

Slowly, you lifted your other hand to his face. Lucifer leaned back slightly, hesitant at your touch. He broke a moment later, squeezing his eyes shut as he brushed his cheek against your open hand. Your nails grazed lightly against his skin, the damp feeling only driving your own tears.

“Do you know what it feels like, to watch innocent people be burned alive to please some sick, twisted version of me?” Lucifer whispered into your palm, tears pooling against your skin as he blinked them away.

You pursued your lips, the agony on his face clenching your heart tightly.

“Those defenseless men and women, sentenced to death simply for theatrics.” Lucifer whimpered, and you slid your hand from his fingers to rest against his other cheek. 

“All those children—”

Lucifer choked on the last word, a sob escaping his throat as he struggled to contain the shakes racking across his body. 

In a swift motion, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling the fallen angel flush against you. This time, there was no fuss from him as he collapsed into your hold. 

You held him, as he sobbed. Painful, heartbreaking cries of grief. As Lucifer mourned the lives that were destroyed in his name, for an image that didn’t exist. 

You shook against him, ceasing the noises that threatened to escape your aching throat. You only bit your lip harshly, tasting blood drip flood your tastebuds. You ignored the pain blooming in your mouth, staying silent as Lucifer began to calm in your grasp.

All because he wanted mankind to be able to express themselves outside of Heaven’s strict rules and suffocating influence.

“I gave them a chance to do so much more,” he whispered against your skin. His head lay limply against your shoulder as he sobbed quietly. “And, they fucked it up.”

“Please don’t cry,” you whispered hoarsely into his hair, inhaling the deep scent of apples and cinnamon as you hugged him tightly. “I’m here for you, as always. You don’t need to hide your grief from me.”

“I know, I'm sorry.” He replied quietly, his fingers rubbing soothing circles against your upper back. The weight against you grew heavier, as he fell completely limp against your hold, his hand coming down to rest against your waist. 

“I’m just so tired.” He muttered into the crook of your neck, and you pulled him closer.

“Sleep, I’m right here. Just rest your eyes, for me.” You begged your lover.

Lucifer nodded into your skin, before you felt him curl farther into you. You nestled closer into his hair, your back against the ottoman now, as you let the heat of the fire dry your soaked cheeks.

Oh, how cruel Heaven truly is, to give such a fate to such a loving soul. 

And now, you’d make sure he would never feel so alone in his pain again. A silent promise to your husband, as you drifted into bliss-less sleep.

YOU GUYS. this idea had me by the chokehold suddenly after work, and i wrote it in one sitting, my ass hurts yall 😂

also, don’t worry, that alastor fic is still coming! i’m about halfway done, so stay tuned for that next :)

what do you think? let me know your thoughts! <3

tag list 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma-archive @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @thy-tortured-poet @th3-st4r-gur1 @astro-raven-power @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @enigmatic-blues

[nsharks]

weyy idk if ur taking reqs rn but if u are… ik youve already wrote this prompt like twice but can we have more argument angst w ghost 😭😭

simon struggles with anger (you struggle to help him) —tags: brief gore mention, cursing, angst, argument, established "situationship" —part two here

His fingers find the crest of your waist in the dark, holding you against the side of him as shallow breaths pound in his chest. Your lips are puffy and red. You wipe your hand against your used mouth and curl up into the warmth radiated from the colossal form beside you.

"Fuckin' hell," he murmurs, a low rasp. "I swear... Where'd a pretty thing like you learn all that, huh?"

But, with a flush to your cheeks, you barely have time to part your lips before he grumbles into your hair:

"Don't answer that."

It's a quiet order. One that rumbles low under his heavy breathing. Because Simon is full of orders. Demands. In bed, it thrills you, incites a thrum in your veins, an urge to follow and please him. He will take, and demand— until your legs are sore and your skin is chafed. But sometimes this persona bleeds into life outside of his bed. You try to be patient. You try to understand how difficult it must be to adjust to being just a person, here with you, and not a SAS lieutenant.

Especially for him.

But where Simon is rough and demanding, he is also quiet and thoughtful.

He moves his hand to the underbelly of your jaw. Softly now, he mutters, "Need water?"

"Yes, please," you answer, hoarseness in your voice.

And soon the warmth beside you ghosts out of his bedroom to fulfill your request, leaving you with a few moments to feel the tiredness in your limbs. He'd kept you up longer than you anticipated. He usually did.

But a sharp ding from your phone widens your eyes.

A message.

Your phone— casually placed on his desk in the corner of his room.

You hadn't meant to leave it there, not when his desk was particularly off-limits to you. Another order of his: don't touch my stuff. Even though Simon wanted you over every night, he didn't want you meddling in the crevices of his privacy. You did your best to respect that, but in the heat of removing your clothes, the phone in your pocket had ended up on the nearest surface.

You tug on just your shirt. Bare feet against cold floor. But when you reach for your phone, you carelessly brush a hand against the notebook beside it, nudging it off the desk.

It sits on the floor with the spine propped up, pages parted.

It's terrible, the curiosity that itches from the sight.

You reach for it with your tongue poking your cheek. You shouldn't look. A whisper of warning echoes in your mind. His privacy, his trust— you valued those things. But perhaps it's the fact that Simon is still such an enigma to you, or perhaps the fact that you immediately notice penned sketches on the paper, but you pick it up and can't stop yourself from taking a peak at the opened page.

The inked images stun you.

Only for a second can you bear them.

A brief second filled with... horrid things. Gruesome things. Things you knew, deep down, he'd seen, but you never wanted to entertain the detailed reality of. The sight spurs something in your stomach: nausea, maybe. An unease that twists and churns and urges you to clamp the notebook shut with a gasp.

You shouldn't have looked.

And you're about to set it back down—

But a presence makes itself known behind you.

"What are you doin'?"

His voice is quietly tense. Enough to snap you out of the images brandished in your mind. If the moonlit room is a river, then his words are a stone— splintering the surface.

"Oh, I—" you stutter, looking at the notebook in your hand. "I was just—"

But you can't finish. No— there's a hand ripping it from you.

"Just what?"

In the dark, you turn to face him. He sets down the glass of water on his desk; flicks on the small lamp. The light reveals to you the pits of inky black in his eyes, notebook gripped tightly in his hand.

"I was just trying to grab my phone, Simon," you explain in a murmur.

"Right," a click of his tongue. Animosity presses against his teeth. You see it, you feel it. And you wish you could clamp your eyes shut and return to the moment, not so long ago, when he'd been holding you with warmth.

He holds the notebook up. "Does this... look like your phone?"

"No, it just fell—"

"Liar," he interjects, cold and low. "You were going through my stuff."

"I wasn't," you insist, shaking your head. "I mean... I may have taken a peek but only because it opened—"

"You..." a sharp inhale. "Took a peek, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"How many times do I have to—" he closes his eyes for a moment, but they reopen with a hollow flame. "You never fuckin' listen, I swear. Do you have a thick skull?”

And maybe it's the way he is staring at you, or the lick of venom in his insult, but you mumble: "Well, maybe you shouldn't have me stay here if you can't handle people touching any of your things."

"No," he grits. "Maybe you need to be more obedient."

He holds your stare.

A presence that nearly smothers you.

But you squint your eyes through the tension. "Obedient? Really? I mean— do you hear yourself? I am human and I accidentally dropped your book—"

"Don't," he breathes through his nose, a flare under the mask. "Don't give me that. Goin' thought my shit when I told you not to. Now you wanna stand here with bloody excuses. You are so..."

"So what?" you snap softly. A hand grips the end of your shirt to properly cover yourself because right now, you're not sure if you want those eyes looking at you.

But he doesn't finish, just pinches the bridge of his nose and stares off at the wall behind you. Muscles beneath the fabric of his mask twitch and ripple and shudder with a curl of rage.

"I told you," he repeats, more to himself than to you. "I told you so many goddamn times. Fuckin' hell, you make me... I want to just— Jesus Christ. Why can't you listen to something so simple?"

"You know, Simon," you retort under your breath. "You have so much to say when you're pissed, don't you?" You huff out a breath. "Somehow you have no problem finding the right words to tell me I've done something wrong. But when it comes time to tell me you care, that's so hard, right? When was the last time you even said it? You can't find the words for those feelings?"

"Shut it," he orders— no, barks. The curl of anger flickers and seethes and looks back at you, staring you down as if you are an enemy who has gotten in his way. His free hand clenches. You regret everything you've said. "Shut up, I swear to God. You went through my shit. You have no fuckin' right to talk about how I feel."

And then he is pacing around, a short trajectory of thunderous footsteps. His chest heaves. Ragged breaths claw up his throat until his voice raises to a level you haven't heard before:

"You want me to talk about how I fuckin’ feel? I feel nothing."

The snarl of his words is loud but easily drowned out by the sound of the notebook hitting the wall. It's a sudden sound that jolts you.

And maybe, maybe now you see it— how much of a lie he has shouted. I feel nothing. But there is so much feeling, so much unadulterated anger and pain thrown against the wall that it causes tears to quiver at the rims of your eyes. And your stomach churns, not with nausea this time but with something else, a feeling that grips your shoulders and tucks you a few steps further away from him.

Because at this moment Simons scares you.

And with all his orders, all his demands, he has never truly scared you before.

And if the fear wasn't there, you might've realized why he felt this way. You might've realized the images in his notebook were pieces of himself he was so terrified for you to see, and it angered him more than anything that, despite his efforts, he couldn't hide them from you forever.

He only snaps out of it when he sees you.

Moments pass, and then Simon is looking back at you with wild eyes. Eyes that flicker over you— your hunched body, your hands pressed against the wall behind you because you've backed up so far, the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he mutters, quieter now. He drags a hand over his eyes. "Babe, I—"

But when he tries to take a step closer, you flinch further.

"Please," you whisper. A few tears escape. "I want to... I want to go home."

I want to get away from you.

"It's late," he argues weakly, still struggling to control his breath. His anger fizzles rapidly, leaving behind a shell of regret and pain and worry as he watches you reach for your pants.

You're tugging them up your legs with fingers that fumble.

"Y/N," Simon swallows, pressing his hands over his veiled forehead. "Don't. I will— Fuck, I'll go."

And you don't have time to protest. With hands that tremble, Simon begins pacing around the room again, this time not in anger. No— something that has him mumbling quietly under his breath over and over: "I'll go, I'll go."

He grabs his keys and keeps his eyes on the floor. "You stay here, yeah? Don't... don't go out so late."

A bob of his throat.

This order arrives in a voice that sounds frail and hollow.

"Okay," you whisper, nodding.

And he leaves. Tugging on his coat and within seconds, you hear the sound of his front door shut. Simon, the man who was just blistered with anger over his privacy, leaves you here to sleep in his own home without him. And you're too shaken, too exhausted, to wonder where he could possibly go for the rest of the night.

------

Simon was always saying he would quit smoking.

Bad for my lungs, pet, I know it. He would mumble against your lips in a kiss that tasted sour. It didn't bother you, but you noticed how the taste turned thicker during those days he'd shut himself away in his room.

Got to help me, pet. He had said one time into your neck, tucking a pack in your hand. Hide 'em from me, yeah?

(The only request for help he's ever uttered.)

But it didn't really matter where you hid them—

—Simon could always buy more.

And when he returns the next morning, the smell is pungent.

You're already awake. A small bag stuffed with your things, but you are quick to hide it when you hear the front door creak open.

A shuffling of boots.

While his footsteps had been thunderous before, a solemn calm now replaces the storm.

Wordlessly, he searches for you. He finds you frozen in place near the bathroom where you'd just been collecting your things— a toothbrush, a tube of makeup. But your bag is placed on the counter where he can't see.

"Hey," he offers a soft, hoarse greeting. "Didn't expect you to be here."

And then he holds up a bagged pastry and a to-go canister of tea. "Got you breakfast, jus' in case."

It shouldn't be so strange. The sight. His large hands gripping food from some nearby cafe. His eyes: red, worn. He looks like he didn't sleep. The air outside is brittle and already wintery: had he just walked around all night in the cold? And even now, with the hollow pit in your stomach left from your crying, a touch of concern finds you when you notice how pale his exposed skin is. A slight pink creeping from under the mask.

"I don't want a pastry and tea."

Your voice. Is it—?

Defeated.

Because your care and concern can only go so far with a man who slips so easily into anger, but with even greater ease, isolates himself from care.

“Right,” he clears his throat. “I’ll jus’ leave it in the kitchen, then. You could have it later.”

Avoidance.

Is he really just going to pretend—?

“You scared me last night.”

The admission slips out in a whisper. But it's enough. It's all he needs to hear for his eyes to dig shut, a visible flinch rippling through his broad shoulders. His avoidance cracks.

A gruff, "I know."

"You were so angry, Simon. I—"

Dark eyes flutter back open. Gently now, "I would never hurt you."

"But you did. You do." A swallow that tastes salty. "You shut me out. I mean— your notebook. It was... You—"

"Think I'm fucked then, huh?"

Hollow words. The shell of a man speaking to you, with only a little boy inside. And you flutter your eyes because the backs of your lids remember the gore you'd seen. But your stomach has already swallowed and digested the sight, whittled it down to empathy.

"No, I don't," you whisper with a firm shake of your head. "I just think you need help. You deserve it, Simon. And I—" Hushed like a secret that rattles with defeat: "I don't know if I can give you that help."

There's just not much else to say.

The look he gives, pitiful and strained, tugs at your reserve. You have to walk away— you turn around to grab your bag. He sees it now. A sharp inhale sounds from his chest as you begin your journey to the front door with your belongings.

He follows. Sets the food on the table.

You don't really know what you want or what you need, but at this moment all you can think of is space.

"Don't," a quiet, rough plea.

A ghost hovers behind you as your hand wraps around the doorknob. A phantom cloaked in guilt and perhaps, the realization that what he'd expected you to do for so long, was finally coming to fruition.

"It's just space," you tell him in a murmur. "Simon, I just need space."

"Space from me?"

"From this."

"M' sorry," he breathes. "Please... I— it won't happen again. Fuck, I swear it. I'm so..."

And he struggles with the words because, fucking hell, you were right. Words of care, words of apology, always seem to evade him. But military jargon and sharp commands come with ease.

"I'm so sorry," Simon finally says, choppy. "I didn't want you seein' all that. But... bloody hell, I overreacted, didn't I?"

Salt lines your vision as he continues, urgently now, because your hand refuses to let up off the knob.

"Jesus Christ. I didn't mean to. You can't just— Pet, please. I'm sorry, alright? So fuckin' sorry, I mean it."

But his apologies don't do much to soothe the defeat in your chest. You can't look at him so you open the door instead.

A touch to your shoulder, perhaps firmer than he intends—

And you pause only because you think finally he might say what you were hoping he would. Something about care. Maybe even, a tinge of hope for— love.

(But no— he'd given you a clear warning from the beginning that he couldn't give that.)

So instead, he just shakes his head and drops his hand back to his side. The words die on his tongue, turned the same color of ash as his lashes, and he lets you leave.

[asumofwords]

Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course. 

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long. 

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?” 

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.” 

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise? 

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight. 

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat. 

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out. 

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind. 

And by your luck, you did see him again. 

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him. 

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked. 

“What do you want?” 

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours. 

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them. 

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor. 

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it. 

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table. 

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm. 

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back. 

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place. 

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor. 

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses. 

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred. 

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.” 

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.” 

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him. 

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class. 

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted. 

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips. 

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph. 

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets. 

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure. 

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought. 

-

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win). 

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book. 

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought. 

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM. 

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there. 

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst. 

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there. 

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold. 

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly. 

Shame built inside of you. 

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots. 

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him. 

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk. 

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him. 

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second. 

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core. 

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance. 

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance. 

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you. 

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t. 

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits. 

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them. 

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down. 

Oh shit. 

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound. 

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more. 

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.” 

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure. 

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close. 

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him. 

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands. 

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious. 

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf. 

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch. 

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part twelve❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Reality is hitting you as you, Bucky, Steve and his men all venture off to a secret safe house only Steve knows about. The events from the last couple of days are starting to hit you with a sickening force, leaving you weak and crippled.

♡ Warnings: language, angst, fluff, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, sickness, paranoia, death threats, murderous thoughts, stalking, sam and bucky being absolutely my favs

series masterlist

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Bodyguard!Au Mob!Au

It was almost taunting the way your fingertips thumped, the last skim of your fingers across the book spines in your library. You tried to think of this being bittersweet, but could only find the bitterness of the situation. You were being ripped from your home, because of your Father. You were being forced to flee your house because of his sick and twisted mind, somewhere in his head he thought he was doing right by going after you. You couldn't even stomach the thought for too long, the mere mention of your Father's hatred towards enough to send you into a spiral.

The outside world passed by through your unfocused gaze. The buildings lessening and the trees getting denser. You weren't for sure where you were headed, but as long as Bucky was the one guiding you there— you didn't care.

"Hey." Bucky's voice brought you back to reality.

The dark and suffocating thoughts floating away as his smooth voice broke through the haze. You took more time than usual, taking in his expression briefly before responding.

"Hi James." You whispered, scooting closer to his side, tightening your hold on his hand.

His face dropped, his eyes softening at your vulnerable state. He wrapped his arm around your frame, tucking you closer to his side. The warmth from his body heated your own, your heartbeat slowing almost immediately from the feeling.

"You doing alright?" He asked, his eyes not breaking from your face, trying to catch every twitch and shift in your expression.

You forced a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes and nodded regardless of your inner struggles.

"I'm hanging in there. How much longer?" You reassured him, sneaking a peak out the window, only to find the thick forest.

"Not too much longer. We're headed to a safe house— one that only Steve knows about." He told you.

You furrowed your brows in curiosity.

"You've never been there?" You asked him, and he shook his head.

"No, but the less people that know— the better. Your Father won't be able to find you there." He told you.

You nodded and turned back towards the window, rubbing your thumb over the metal ridges on his hand.

"You'll stay with me right?" You whispered, your doubts getting the best of you.

He gently grabbed your chin, turning you towards him. His eyes shined with intense passion, a strong sense of genuineness within them.

"The whole time. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He promised and your anxieties vanished.

Your chest warmed comfortably, the safety he provided from his presence alone enough to calm you. You appreciated it greatly.

"Okay."

His eyes softened at your small voice, the urge to wrap you up in his arms overwhelming.

“C’mere.” He voiced, pulling you even closer.

You hugged around his body, burying your face into his chest. His body blocked you from the outside world, muting the chaos for a moment. It was peaceful and you felt powerful against him— like no one could hurt you.

The rumble of the car and Bucky’s heartbeat lulled you to sleep. There wasn’t a place you felt more comfortable in, than his arms. You couldn’t help but doze off with his arms caging you protectively.

~

“We’re here doll.” Bucky whispered, earning a sleepy groan from you.

You snuggled your face deeper into his body and had him chuckling, gently pulling you away from him, his metal hand smoothing down your now messy hair.

“You can sleep when we get inside, okay?” He told you, earning another incoherent groan.

You perked up, forgetting the situation completely in your dreamless sleep. You forgot for just a moment that your Father was practically hunting you. The whole mess crashes into you yet again, you weren’t tired anymore with the sudden sick feeling in your stomach. In fact, you tensed up— a wave of nausea approaching.

Without responding, you followed Bucky out of the car— hanging onto his arm. You weren’t sure if it was from nerves or the sudden dizzy spell that came over you.

You hoped it wasn’t a panic attack that your body was brewing.

Although you were new to these attacks, having gone most of your life without them— you couldn’t help but be terrified of them. The lack of control you had when one was happening, you were afraid of what would happen if you had a really severe one.

Your grip tightened on his arm and he glanced down at you, taking note of your unfocused wide eyes, face paling with a tinge of green.

He was immediately on edge, hurrying his steps up the cabin estate. It was a secluded wooden house in the middle of nowhere— it looked intimidating from the outside. The fear of being stranded present, but it was a safe house. He had to remind himself.

She was safe here. He told himself.

Steve entered the house first, you and Bucky following after— Steve’s men scoped the area, staying on alert for any danger.

“You guys will be safe here. The kitchen is stocked with food, as well as more food down in the basement.” He informed you two, although the way you were staring blankly ahead— Steve knew he was basically talking to Bucky.

Bucky furrowed his brows at the news that the kitchen was stocked— the basement too?

Steve seemed to read his mind.

“Have known about this place for awhile, just never knew I’d actually be using it. Asked my men to stock the place before we headed out here.” Steve said.

Bucky felt a wave of great appreciation flow through him, Steve was really doing the most and he was lucky to have him as a friend.

“Thanks man, we appreciate it.” He spoke for the both of you— to which you didn’t mind considering your lack of words.

“Just try and lay low— Pierce and Rumlow are going to be finding out that his daughter and her bodyguard are missing very soon— as well as the whole perimeter squad.” Steve told him, making fear bloom in his chest.

Bucky swallowed, knowing this was just the beginning.

“Where are you all going to be staying? You don’t seem to be eager in moving in.” Bucky wondered, noticing the lack of moving in that was happening.

Steve waved him off like it was no big deal.

“Truthfully, we all aren’t built for sleep.” He tried to joke. “We have a small shed just behind the house, that’s where we will be keeping our stuff. Where we will take cover if we need to— but otherwise we got a house to guard.”

Bucky nodded in appreciation again and a part of him wondered if Steve was trying to redeem himself after judging you all too quickly. Despite it being a shitty thing, he didn’t think Steve realized just how forgetting you were. You’d see Steve as a good man any day, even with his rough start.

“And you…” Steve said lastly, glancing down to you before back up to him, “You got a girl to protect.”

Steve reminded him that not only was he here with you willingly, he was also doing his job to protect you. Things were different now though, he was protecting you from the bottom of his heart— not for the man that hired him.

Bucky wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. He ended up having to protect you from the person that hired him to you.

Steve left without another word and it left Bucky alone with you. He found you rather quiet, clinging onto him with white knuckles as you continued to space out.

“Hey… (Y/n)…” Bucky got your attention, your eyes focusing on his.

He noticed you still had this sickly green to your usual healthy glow, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Doll, you okay? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.” He pointed out, making sure he worded it correctly.

You nodded slowly and wiped a hand across your clammy forehead, agreeing with him that you weren’t feeling too hot. You weren’t sure if this was anxiety or if you were coming down with something— either way you felt like shit.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling too good. Think I just need to lie down.” You mumbled, leaning into him as you felt yourself sway on the balls of your feet.

Bucky felt your weight press into him. He felt his heart twinge at the way your voice sounded so weak and unsure. He knew you had been through way more than anyone could handle in the last couple of days— but he couldn’t help but be angry for you. You deserved better and he would think that until the day came where you got the perfect life he knew you deserved.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” He told you softly.

You nodded weakly and closed your eyes as another dizzy spell passed through you, making you out all your weight on him. He didn’t hesitate scoop you up into his arms, in the moment worsening the dizzy spell— but after you settled into his arms, the feeling washed away slightly and you melted into his embrace.

“I got you, just close your eyes.” He whispered and you didn’t waste a second and followed his commands.

You were almost lulled to sleep by his strong heartbeat thumping against your cheek, the way his warmth eased the chills you felt.

He had made it to the bedroom, placing you down onto the queen sized bed gently, making sure to pull the blankets back before placing you in.

You didn’t even open your eyes and sent him a weak smile, grabbing onto his wrist before he could move away. Bucky smiled at your tiny hand gripping onto him.

“I’m going to get you some medicine doll, get you a glass of water. Okay?” He told you, his voice ever so soft when speaking to you.

You nodded and let go of his hand, letting it sit on your chest. Your head pulled to the side and your smile started to fade as your exhausted, stressed brain turned off.

Bucky let himself gaze down at you for another moment, getting lost in you. His mind swirled around you constantly and if he wasn’t thinking about you— he wasn’t thinking at all.

He left quietly after he noticed you were out. You needed the rest— considering you’d be up tossing and turning later. His heart hurt for you, all you had to go through recently.

Exiting the room, and shut the door and glanced the the left— noticing Sam standing there.

“Brought some goodies.” He announced and it was then Bucky glanced down at his arms.

He was holding a little bowl of soup and had a glass of water and pills in his other hand. Bucky wipes the annoyed expression off his face and for the first time— appreciated Sam being here. Although he wouldn’t admit that.

“Thanks.” He said quietly, taking the goodies out of his hands.

Sam kept a smirk on his face, but it wasn’t his usual teasing one. It was soft and kind.

“You guys are adorable.” Sam said.

Bucky looked at him with an angry squinted expression, so many words on the tip of his tongue but he held himself back.

Sam wanted to laugh at Bucky’s wild expression but waved him off and held back his giggles.

“I overheard you talking to her. No judgement here— I think it’s sweet you actually are nice to someone.” Sam jabbed, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

Of course Sam had to give a compliment while still messing with him— all in one go.

“Okay well, try not to be a creep next time.” Bucky muttered lowly.

“Hey! I was dropping some much needed supplies off— so you’re welcome.” Sam added. turning and walking away, down the stairs to the living space.

Bucky sent one last glare his way until he was out of view. Somewhere deep down in his grumpy soul— he appreciated Sam.

Ew... he hated even thinking the thought.

Shaking his head clear, he headed back inside to you. He was surprised to find you sitting up and leaning back against eh headboard— last he saw you, you were out cold. While he was happy to see your eyes, he hated the way they were so dull. Your whole being looking mentally exhausted— and he wished he could take it all away.

"Hey, you can sleep if you want. I'll stay here with you." He reminded you, thinking that maybe you woke up and panicked that he wasn't there.

You nodded and scooted over, patting the spot next to you.

"Lay with me?" You asked, your voice hoarse and tired.

He softened his gaze, and placed the supplies down and quickly got in bed with you. Slipping off his shoes and jacket before cuddling up next to you.

"Thank you James. I don't know what I'd do without you." You whispered, laying against his chest while he looped his arms around you— holding you close.

"You don't even have to think about that possibility, because I'm never gonna leave you (Y/n)." He whispered back, smoothing your hair down and rubbing your back soothingly.

"I know you won't... but my Fath— Pierce may split us apart." You voiced your fear.

It happened to be Bucky's too, with th way his arms tightened around you protectively. He just couldn't bear that thought for too long or he'd start to panic. He knew it was smart to digest the thought because it was very much possible— which was terrifying.

"He can try." Was the only thing Bucky could come up with.

But it seemed to bring massive comfort to you, as you hugged him tighter, burying your face into his chest and lulling off to sleep without another word. He breathed in your scent, relishing the way your body was fitting perfectly against his. In different circumstances, he'd be at ease— but the anxiety always ate away at him with the threat over your head.

He only assumed the fury that would ignite the second Pierce noticed you were gone. It made him shiver.

~

Pierce stood in your bedroom, holding up a dainty frame— a picture and you and your Mother inside. His lip snarled and twitched at the sight, the way his heart started to pound— his vision turning red.

Pierce yelled out, throwing the picture frame across the room— the delicate piece shattering against the grooved wall. The pieces scattered amongst the room, the high pitched trickle of wood and glass fading away. The only sound left in the room was his heavy breathing.

The door clicked open and shut, and without turning around— Pierce could tell who it was just by the footsteps.

“Seems we have a runaway on our hands.” Rumlow acknowledged.

Pierce scoffed, struggling his posture and fixing his suit and tie, adjusting his cuffs back to normal after his outburst.

“Ungrateful little bitch thinks she can hide from me— run from me.” He muttered under his breath.

“Seems we’ve got some traitors too. Didn’t know Rogers had it in him to go against you like that.” He pointed out, only making Pierce shake his head in betrayal and anger.

“Should’ve known Rogers would stick by Barnes— two were close before working for me. I knew that and still took a chance.” He voiced his frustration.

Rumlow nodded his head, remembering Bucky all too well— so many memories he loved to look back on. Although he couldn’t say the same about Bucky.

“Overall— I wouldn’t worry sir,” Rumlow started, holding onto Pierce’s shoulder with confidence, “I’m always down for a hunt.”

Pierce and Rumlow smirked at each other before breaking into an evil laugh, both of their sick and twisted minds coming together to bring you hell.

Pierce wondered how long you could stay hidden, and he couldn’t wait for the day he found you. Ending things once and for all.

His dear beloved daughter.

< TAGLIST IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED >

[pxrxcxa]

You're being mean 

✶ One shot

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+.

Post summary | After a disappointing hookup, Y/n develops a crush on Eddie when she can't stop thinking about what he'd be like in bed instead, wondering if he's as rough around the edges as everyone says he is.

What to expect | Eddie being a dominant, selfish ass. 18 + so minors DNI.

Post Warnings | Pure Smut 18 +, rough M oral sex, orgasm denial, F masturbation, choking, consensual forcing & degradation.

Word count | 3.1 K Word Count.

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Take care, P. x 🌻

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Authors Note | A bit out of my comfort zone, I don't think that Eddie is actually anything like this but I wanted to write something angry lmao. I hope you enjoyed it, P.x 🌻

I swung my feet in the air as I lounged across Nancy’s frilly pink bed spread, listening to her drone on about Steve Harrington, nodding and umming in the right places as her voiced faded into background noise, flipping mindlessly through a trashy magazine filled with perfect models that crushed my self-esteem. 

“So who’s yours y/n?” My eyes flashed to hers as a blush crept up my face, embarrassed as I realised I lost track of where she was up to.

“Huh?” I smiled sheepishly as she let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Your crush? Who is it, I told you mine? Pay up, it’s only fair.” I chewed on my lip as I stared into the shining brown eyes of my best friend as she sat on her bedroom floor, regret flooding through me as I hesitated to tell her. We were in our junior year at high school, and while Nancy had drooled over the King of Hawkins High along with the rest of the lower class, I had set my sights on someone even less attainable than Steve. 

I’d already gone down the route of boring basketball players. Personally, I felt that I could have lived without the four inches and twenty seconds, my last hook up leaving me woefully unsatisfied. As I paid more attention to Eddie’s random and chaotic outbursts out school, the more I wondered if he was that animated in all aspects of his life. 

There was just the small issue of Eddie seeming to not even notice my existence though, and my petrifying fear of approaching him, my tongue turning into butter anytime I got close to him.  

My heart thudded against my ribs painfully as she waited for my answer, I twisted her sheets around my fingers as Mrs Wheeler popped her head in through the door, offering us snacks. I rolled over to stare up at the ceiling as the door shut softly, closing my eyes as I whispered. 

“Eddie Munson.” I murmured; a breath flew out of Nancys’ mouth as she sprung up onto the mattress next to me.

“Who?” She screeched, eyes widening in shock as I peered at her face. 

“Eddie.” I said louder, watching her carefully for her reaction, she bit her lip as she stared at me like I was crazy. 

“Really?” A small smile spread across her face as she realised I was serious.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.” Eddies dark eyes popped into my mind, each time they met mine sending a shiver of fear and longing through me. 

“Huh.” She sucked her cheeks in and leaned back against her bed frame, watching me carefully.

“What?” I asked defensively, wrapping my arms across my chest. 

“Nothing.” She shrugged, a mischievous look dancing behind her eyes.

“No, what?” I demanded, snatching the schoolbook from her grasp as she picked it up to avoid my gaze.

“He’s just so… rough.” My face betrayed me as Nancy squealed, slapping my knee. 

“Oh…my…god. IS THAT WHAT YOU’RE INTO?” I buried myself into the mound of pillows, peaking through the cracks as I watched her blink in shock, her mouth hanging open wide.

“Well… Mike is in his club, maybe you could get him to introduce you!” She shouted excitedly, leaning forward to shake my shoulders. 

I laughed as her contagious energy made me grin. “Nance… no. He wouldn’t be interested in me.” My smile slipped from my face as I fiddled with my hands in my lap. 

“Why not?” She snapped, I faltered on the brink of admitting my insecurities to her, shame running through me over my jealousy towards her natural beauty, she wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain.  

“He glares at me every time he catches me staring.” I muttered, telling her half of the truth. “I don’t think he likes me very much; he always looks angry whenever I see him.” My mind snapped to the thought of him stalking past me in the hallways at school, staring straight through me as I shrunk under his glare. 

“I think that’s just him, y/n.” She soothed, looking at me with pity. 

“Hmm.” I half-heartedly agreed, wanting to move past the topic. 

“You can take Mike and the others to their thing tonight!” I sighed as she clapped her hands together excitedly, knowing it was useless to try to argue with Nancy once she set her mind to something.

I fiddled with the hem line of my jumper as I followed Mike and Dustin down the dark, empty school hallway, my nerves hitching up with each heavy footstep that echoed off the grey lockers on either side of me. I followed in tightly behind Nancy’s brother as they casually strolled through the drama room door, shouting over each other as they gushed about fake monsters. 

Eddie sat at the head of the table, low burning candles throwing sharp shadows across his attractive features as he twisted his ring across his bony fingers.

He didn’t look up as Mike cleared his throat beside me. “Uh Eddie, this is-“ 

“I know who she is.” He snapped, leaning back in his chair as his eyes flashed up to stare at him, Mike shrunk under his gaze, his voice trailing off into a whisper.

“Uh, yeah. She’s interested in DnD…” I dug my nails into my palm as his words sounded fake even to my ears.

“That’s not what she’s interested in.” His deep voice cut across the thick air, I blushed as his eyes shot daggers up at me through his long eyelashes. I shook as he scowled at me, his dark, deep-set eyes staring unblinkingly. Mike and Dustin shot me a confused look as I stuttered over my words. 

“Well spit it out.” Eddie glowered at me, raising his eyebrows mockingly at me. My lip trembled as he glared, laughing as I stood frozen at the end of the table, tugging at my shirt nervously. 

I spun on my heels as tears brimmed in my eyes, the detestation in his voice piercing through me as mortification washed over me. I knew coming with the kids tonight had been a bad idea, but I’d let Nancy talk me into it, letting her dress me up and paint my face with her makeup. I shouldered my way through the wooden door and stalked down the hallway back to my car, letting the cold night air of the autumn evening dry my fallen tears as I leant against the hood of my car. 

An hour passed. And then another as darkness well and truly settled around me, before I heard the thundering footsteps running down the hall. Mike and Dustin flew through the doors, quickly followed by the rest of their club. They stopped on the sidewalk as their mouths popped open in surprise at the sight of me. 

“Oh, we thought you’d left. Uh…” Mike clapped his hand around the back of his neck as his eyes turned towards the entrance of the car park, a pair of headlights cutting through the darkness. “I called my dad to come get us.” 

He stumbled as Eddie pushed past him, a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he pulled his jacket on over his defined shoulders, he rolled his eyes as he noticed me huddled in my sweater, pulling his lighter from his pocket and jogging lightly over to his van as his knotted curls flowed out behind him. I groaned as I pulled my hands from across my chest, annoyed at myself for wasting my time, and looking like a fool for it. 

Mike and Dustin waved goodbye and shot me apologetic smiles as they slid into Mr Wheelers car, as anguish and embarrassment turned in my stomach. Eddie had humiliated me tonight, with a sudden surge of anger that launched myself off the cold metal of my car, and across the empty car park, I decided that I couldn’t sink any lower so I might as well get a few shots in since he clearly couldn’t care less about me or my juvenile crush.  

I shouted out after him as he reached up to pull himself into van, Eddie narrowed his eyes dangerously as he turned to watch me storming over to him. 

“Hey.” I shouted, my loose hair whipping wildly around my face as I spurred across the asphalt.  

“What.” He snapped, pulling his smoke from his mouth and breathing a heavy cloud into my face, I coughed and waved the haze away as it stung my eyes. 

“What’s your problem?” I demanded, planting my feet squarely in front of him so he couldn’t escape. Eddie’s eyes ran up and down my shivering form, my anger dimming as cold air brushed my skin. 

“You think I don’t know what you want? You really think I don’t notice you staring after me like a lost puppy? Your silly little crush is so obvious, I’m embarrassed for you.” He twisted his thick brows as he grinned, staring into my eyes as I grasped for a reply. 

“I uh-“ my body tingled as he watched me flounder. 

“Uh Uh Uh” He mocked me, rolling his eyes when I flinched. “You’re such a child y/n, go home.” His jacket ruffled as he spun back to tear open his driver’s side door. 

“Hey! I am not a child.” I stepped forward with my fists balled at my side, not sure what I was planning, just my irritation at his words urging me on. 

He twisted back so suddenly that his closeness caught me completely off guard, his body inches from mine as the smell of cigarettes and cologne made me recoil. I stopped breathing as I watched his tongue slide over his pink lips, the corners of them turning up into a smirk. 

“Oh please y/n. You can’t even look me in the eyes.” My cheeks flamed as I avoided his gaze, the truth in his words calling me out painfully. His frizzy curls bounced as he shook his head, the suffocating smell of tobacco spilling over me as he pulled his van door open. 

My hand flashed out to curl around the leather across his elbow, his arm tensing as he felt my touch. His flaring eyes met mine for a split second before he reached out to grab my waist, spinning me around to slam into the side of his van. He knocked my foot to the side with his, so my legs spread wider, pushing himself into the gap between them. 

“You think you’re grown enough to handle me y/n?” I wasn’t sure if it was the doubtful, teasing look in his eyes, or my anger at his rudeness, but a foreign confidence took over my body as I dug my nails into his arms hard enough to draw blood. 

He smiled as I stared up at him angrily, his five o’clock shadow bristling across his jaw. He strained as a half-smile pulled up the corner of his mouth, slowly bringing his lips closer to mine as my knees shook, he stopped as he got close enough for me to practically taste him, the lean contours of his towering body pushing in deeper against me.

“This does not mean I like you. I just like to have fun.” 

He cocked his head to the side as I considered his words, I had a moment to gulp before he shoved me harshly along the panels of his van, stumbling slightly as his rough hand guided me to the back doors, my breathing sped up as he pulled me against his chest, the coarse fabric of his leather jacket pressing in against me as he tore the door open behind me, knocking me to the floor as he climbed in after me. 

My heavy breath echoed around us as he slammed the door shut, dousing us in darkness, I fumbled back on my elbows as his shining eyes moved closer to me, crawling backwards up to the front seats, the exposed metal beneath me digging into my palms. 

“If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you.” His grin deceived his serious tone as his eyes devoured me sprawled below him, shaking with excitement as I waited for his next move. 

Fear shot through me as he lowered himself to his knees, his hungry eyes never leaving mine as he forcibly wrenched my legs apart, my heart hammered loudly in my chest, doubt flickering through my mind as my body betrayed me. I squirmed under Eddie’s touch, he calloused hands leaving behind a trail of fire along my bare skin. 

“We’re really going to fuck here. What if someone sees us?” I caught my lip between my teeth as Eddie reached up to tear his shirt hastily over his head, fondling his boner through his dark jeans. 

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” I froze as his words stabbed through me, shame pulsing through my mind as I searched his face to see he was serious. Eddie grinned as he lowered himself to hover over me, his hair tickling my chin as it fell in waves around us. 

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t enjoy it y/n. I can tell how much of a whore you are.” Heat buzzed through my body as I ran my eyes over his bare chest, soaking up parts of him that I had only imagined. 

“Take your clothes off right now.” He growled as I lifted my hands up to trace the muscles in his arms. He leant back to give me some space as I quickly wriggled out of my sweater and short skirt, my shivering skin glowing in the moonlight seeping through the windshield. His expression darkened as I laid back, he reached his hand out to explore my body, tearing my bra down my chest roughly to expose my breasts. His eyes shot up to my face as I gasped.

“I’m going to ruin you.” 

“Then why are you still talking?” 

He buried his head into my chest as his sharp teeth bit into my soft skin, his large hands wrapping around my sides, constricting around me until I struggled to breathe. I gasped as he pulled on my nipples, nibbling until they became hard, his hand snaked between my legs to rub roughly at my clit, my back arched up into his hand.  

“Suck on my fingers.” His arm moved up across my jaw as he forced me to open my mouth, shoving his hand down my throat as far as they would go until I was gagging, Eddie looked at me from where he hovered just above my panties, to smirk at me. 

“Look at you, all hot and bothered, you’re so fucking wet over me.” I moaned against his palm as his other hand pressed a long finger into me, curling up inside me mercilessly as I writhed madly from the pleasure. He pulled his drenched fingers from my mouth to wrap around my neck, squeezing until blind spots burst across my vision, his dark silhouette leaning up over me as he pumped his arm between my legs, snarling into my ear as I choked out gasps. My legs shook as the hot burning feeling twisted in my lower abdomen, he laughed as he felt me clench beneath him. 

“Not yet.”   

He sat up, pulling me with him as he forced me on my knees, his dexterous hands undoing his belt swiftly, my breath tumbled from my lips as his cock fell from his pants, barely having time to breath as he twisted his hand in my hair, guiding my mouth towards him. His fingers moved to my chin to force my lips apart, his free hand moving to brush my wayward hair away from my face as I wrapped my hand around him, I ran his tip long my parted lips, his precum making it slip back and forth easier. As soon as the first inch slipped past my mouth, he gripped the back of my head with both hands and shot forward, spit dribbling from my mouth as he forced himself deeper into my throat, I gagged as a tear escaped the corner of my eyes, Eddie’s moans filling the van as he pulled back and thrusted into my mouth, faster and faster until he shuddered and his hot cum poured over my tongue, dripping down my throat as he stroked my neck. 

His face was flushed as he pulled back to look down at me, wiping the corner of my mouth roughly, leaning me back down against the floor. 

“Swallow. All of it.” I closed my eyes as his words sent a shiver through me, silently obeying him. His cock was still hard as he stroked it, his eyes glued to my face as I licked my lips. 

 “Touch yourself.” I settled in against the rough metal beneath me, tracing the outlines of my chest, down along my soft stomach until I felt the lacy fabric of my panties. I held eye contact with him as I slipped my hand beneath them, rolling my hips as I rubbed my sensitive spot with slow circles. My eyes fluttered closed as my hand faltered, pleasure shooting through me.

“Open your eyes.” He snapped gruffly, his chest heaving as he stroked his cock faster, his eyes gleaming as he watched my body shake. My hand stopped as I gasped, my legs twitching. Eddie sighed heavily as he reached forward to knock my hand away angrily.

“Fucks sake, do it right y/n.” I moaned and reached down to grasp his arm to steady myself as he rubbed faster than me, trapping my clit between his finger tips as he rolled it back and forth, setting a pace that made me scream out in pleasure, quickly hurtling me towards an orgasm. Without missing a beat, he switched his index finger for his thumb on my clit so he could slide it inside of me, curling it back and forth as I shook.

“There we go.” He jerked his dick fast as my back arched further off the floor, shaking violently as heavenly light burst through me. My hair stuck to my mouth as I moaned, Eddie’s hand fucking me through my waves of pleasure.

He scoffed at me as I slumped against the floor, holding his hand out almost lazily towards me as I looked up at him through heavy lashes.

“Here, lick it off like the dirty slut you are.”

“I’ll admit, you’re a lot more fun than I’d thought you be. Try not to let that go to your head.” He grinned at me over his shoulder, as he sat off the edge of his van with doors propped open, letting cold air swirl around us as he pulled his shirt over his head and shook his hair out of his collar.

“Why didn’t you want to fuck me?” I whispered as frustration flamed in my eyes again, crossing my legs and bringing them to my chin as I watched his back tense. The feeling of being used settled in my stomach uncomfortably as the lust left my body, leaving a dirty feeling behind.

“I didn’t have a condom. And if you wanted that lovey dovey shit y/n, you shouldn’t have come to me.” He jumped down from the back of the van, nodding his head towards me.

“You gotta go. I got shit to do” 

“We should probably leave anyway, before we start a scandal.” I gathered the fabric of my clothes against my chest, crawling across the floor so I could stand up to get dressed.

“Don’t act so innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.” He lit up a cigarette as he turned away from me, my hand hovering in the air as I silently asked for help to get down.

“You’re mean Eddie Munson.” I stumbled as I jumped down lightly onto the road. He turned to smirk at me, blowing a cloud of smoke in my face.

“Never said I wasn’t sweetheart.” 

Part 2

Also Readers - if anyone is looking for a slow burn Eddie x y/n, check out my Opposite Ends series.

Copyright © 2022 by P.McCann.

All Rights Reserved.

[moralesmilesanhour]

if you believe in me - 04.1

summary: Miles shows you what he's been working on. wc: ~2000 a/n: splitting this chapter up into two parts because it was getting long songs for vibes <3: Sweet - Teezo Touchdown That's What You Get - Paramore Lost My Mind (In Yours) - Senseless Optimism prev next

You yawned as the sky brightened and the sun began to finally peak through the curtains. The digital clock sitting in front of you on the small desk read ‘5:58’ in neon-green letters. 

You'd been sitting there for the past fifteen minutes. Miles hadn't answered any of his texts after you got home last night, leaving you to lie awake in bed worrying about what on earth was in that bag.

Might as well wake him up now, you thought.

You rose from Miles’ swivel chair and stretched before making your way over to his bed. The boy was sprawled out over the mattress with his blanket twisted in every direction, suggesting a fitful night of tossing and turning.

As you stood over him, you noticed a dark purple bruise that had bloomed on his forearm. His elbow on the same side had been patched up with a large square band-aid, the center of it brown with dried blood.

Whatever he had been doing last night, it certainly didn't look related to robotics.

At first, you tried gently shaking him. Miles stirred a bit, but remained asleep. Calling out his name yielded the same result. Finally, you grabbed one end of his blanket with a huff and pulled as hard as you could. Miles–still fully asleep–held onto it with equal force, roping you into a tug-of-war at six in the morning. 

“Miles, let go…!” You grunted, as if he could hear you. 

With one final yank, his grip on the blanket loosened, and you nearly fell backwards into his desk with it in your hands.

He rubbed his arms with the sudden chill, eventually cracking one eye open.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned.

“Not today, Kilo,” you folded the blanket beneath your arm. “I think your mom said breakfast was ready downstairs.”

Both eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. Miles shot up, his head snapping towards you. He blinked rapidly to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. 

You grinned triumphantly. “G’morning, big hea–”

“Yo, did you break into my house?!?”

“No, dummy, I just said your mom spoke to me. She let me in so that I could wake your ass up and she could get to work early.”

“And you said yes?” He narrowed his eyes at you, adjusting the sleeve of his tank top.

You had conveniently left out that you'd called Rio to ask first. That was besides the point. 

“Of course,” you shrugged and sat on the edge of the mattress. “You left me on ‘read’ after last night, so now we can talk!”

“At ass o'clock in the morning?”

“M-hm. And you're gonna tell me the whole truth,” you gently tapped his nose with your index finger. “Right?”

Miles slowly wiped his face with his palm with a deep sigh. “You don't quit, do you?”

“I haven't stopped bothering you since I met you. What do you think?”

He rolled his eyes. Point taken.

“Fine. It ain't no robotics club, but we were building something.”

“Building what?”

You leaned in, face tense with concern. His expression softened.

“Relax, it's not a weapon, or nothing,” Miles reassured.

Well, not yet.

He kicked his long legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. He opened the drawer beneath his desk, removing what looked like a comic book and showing it to you.

A large robot stood in the middle of the cover. Its design resembled a ‘Transformers’ action figure, but all of the text was in Japanese.

“It's something kinda like this. Cool, right?”

You examined the comic book closely and hummed in consideration. The robot had sharp eyes like what you'd seen in Miles’ sketchbook. Was that what it was for? But then, why would they be so adamant on hiding it?

You looked up at Miles. A bashful smile graced his features, like it was embarrassing for him to even be showing you his comic book collection right now. But a piece of the puzzle was missing, and he wasn't giving it to you.

“Hm,” you got up and began to put your sneakers back on, “Alright. If that's what you say it is.”

His smile faded. 

“What, you don't believe me?” He asked, setting the comic book back onto his desk.

You picked up your book bag and slung it over your shoulder without sparing him a glance. Just as you were about to leave, you felt him grab your wrist.

“What?” you sighed.

“Turn around.”

“You're awake already, I don't need to–ack!”

Suddenly, Miles wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“I promise I'm not lying to you. I'll show it to you after school, even.”

After a beat of silence, you gave in.

“I'll hold you to it,” you said, gently pushing him off of you. “Now go brush your teeth, that morning breath is deadly.”

Miles stuck his tongue out at you as he strolled past, and made his way downstairs. 

-

Miles ran a finger over his bandaged knuckles. Despite his mood being brighter than usual, no one in Ms. Jones’ class dared to speak to him. The band-aid on his elbow and across the bridge of his nose gave the impression that the other day was simply a fluke, and that he’d gotten into a fight. 

Miles would’ve enjoyed being avoided, if it meant some peace and quiet. But he heard whispers coming from every direction.

“Who’d he get into it with?”

“I heard he got jumped.”

“Looks like it.”

“Didn’t think he fought like that.”

“Are you kidding? Look at him!”

He rolled his shoulders, muscles still aching from having to leap off of a balcony to escape an explosion he caused. Several balconies.

“Aye, Y/N! That’s your man, what happened?”

He perked up at the mention of your name, listening for your response.

You tapped your pencil to your chin, wondering the exact same thing. But that was your business.

“Somebody said sumn about his uncle,” you shrugged. “He don’t play about that shit.”

You didn’t see Miles shrug as well in the back of the classroom. Sounds like something he’d sock a nigga in the jaw for. 

This seemed to satisfy the boy sitting in the next row from you, so you went back to working through the worksheet in front of you. The steps Miles had run through last night evaded you, drowned out by music blasting from an old car radio and the clanging of metal. 

The sounds followed you even after the final bell rang to your room, where you were currently re-braiding a section of Tianna’s hair.

“Ouch!” she complained when you accidentally yanked her hair with your comb. “You’re mad heavy-handed, can you relax?”

You snapped back to reality. “My bad, got distracted.”

“You finna give a damn bald spot. What’s distracting you?”

She groaned audibly when you didn’t answer.

“That boy stressin’ you again? I heard he got into a fight.”

“Ti, it’s fine,” you reassured, scooping a bit of gel with the end of the comb and smoothing it over the back of your hand. “He’s not going around beating people up, if that’s what you’re thinking. And anyways, he’s picking me up soon to hang out.”

Tianna raised an amused eyebrow. “You better braid faster, then.”

-

Miles cracked his neck as he stood on the roof. Your house was technically only a couple blocks away, but he needed the wind rushing through his ears again. He’d spent hours sitting down, leg bouncing beneath his desk with no music to distract him (Professor Callahan had confiscated his airpods, and Miles didn’t know how to explain that they kept him from getting jittery).

Pulling his hood down, he stepped toward the ledge of the building and activated a small device on his belt before letting himself fall.

Shink!

The grappling hook shot out, catching on the next ledge and allowing Miles to swing before landing on it with a flourish. He did the same with the next building, his sneakers suctioning themselves to one of its walls. He rotated in a full three-sixty tic tac to get to another.

Shink! Swing. Shink! Swing.

Miles was grinning to himself and hopping from one foot to the other by the time he reached your window. The door would’ve been much easier, but he figured that you’d like an unconventional entrance. Points for showmanship, right?

You sat on your bed unsuspectingly, staring at your phone. Miles was five minutes late. Should I text him first?

Tianna words echoed in your head, and you decided against it.

Tap tap tap!

Your head snapped up towards the window, the sight before you making your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

A figure in a dark hoodie waved excitedly at you. When you started to back away towards your bedroom door, however, the figure held out a hand in frantic surrender. They pulled back the hoodie, revealing those familiar mismatched eyes and hesitant smile.

A sigh of relief escaped you as you padded over to the window to unlock it.

“You scared me, fuck is wrong with you?” You said through clenched teeth as Miles lifted it open the rest of the way.

He took one look at your pouty attempt to look angry and laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with me.”

“The window, though? You coulda rang the doorbell, I thought you was about to rob me!”

Miles looked around your bedroom, overwhelmingly pink and covered with soft fairy lights. Bright yellow ‘Nancy Drew’ books sat stacked on your nightstand, collecting dust.

He snorted,“What would I steal? Your Monster High Diary?”

You gave him a good shove. “You’re an asshole. And it’s Ever After High, show some respect.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, Monster High is about–”

Miles held a hand up. “Tell me later. You ready to see my ‘robotics project’?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I still can’t believe you thought I would believe that.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry,” he said, removing his outer jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Put your shoes on, and I’ll make it up to you.”

-

The cool darkness of Miles’ room welcomed you as you stepped inside.

“I been working on somethin’,” he whispered, as if telling a secret at a sleepover. “There.”

He pointed towards his desk, which had been cleared of his laptop and books and now resembled an operation table more than a workspace. The desk lamp illuminated an array of tiny metal pieces–arranged in size order–next to what looked like a small helmet. Right next to it was a blueprint that had been rolled up halfway and set to the side. 

You stood there in awe. Awe, and something else brewing beneath the surface, making your chest tighten. 

You knew Miles to be neat, but not like this. To have arranged every single piece in perfect little rows, for pencil lines to be that precise - it required more than just book smarts and a little organization. It required obsession. But with what?

“It’s…cool,” you nodded. “How long did it take you to build?”

Miles hummed thoughtfully before answering, “About a year, give or take.” Then his eyes lit up like you’d never seen them, like a child in the toy section of a Target.

“Do you wanna see the gloves–”

“No!” you interrupted a bit too loudly. 

You winced internally at the way Miles’ face fell. Some of the light left his eyes before he schooled his expression into neutrality.

“I mean…not right now,” you amended, taking his hand. “You said we were gonna hang out, right?”

He nodded. “Right, right. That’s fine. Where you wanna go?”

Miles’ voice returned to its muted quality, and you felt a wave of guilt. What if he was just really into robots? 

An idea popped into your head. “Can I see those comics again?”

A grin slowly snuck its way back onto his face.

“Which volume?”

Thanks for reading! :) Taglist (comment 2 be added!): @shuna-boin @aloraangelix @vhstown

[honeykyeom]

bad habits

pairing: frat president!seungcheol x gn reader

word count: ~700 words

*reuploaded from my now deactivated blog @sluttymingyu

warnings/authors note: oral (male receiving), teasing reader and teasing seungcheol, college party setting (sorry 😔)

18+ content below!

you and seungcheol had been talking for awhile, almost 2 months; you could say you knew his style and type. as the fraternity president, he’s usually looking for a quick fuck and dips, so to say you’ve kept his interest for as long as you did when he could have anyone who threw themselves at his chiseled body was impressive enough. the sexual text messages and provocative photos you two sent each other had reached its breaking point though, with your patience running thin. no

as you enter the throng of people, you see him on the couch in the middle of the living room, whispering in the ear of a girl, her high-pitched giggle immediately sendings waves of annoyance throughout your body. you roll your eyes, following your friend to the kitchen and making sure to walk past seungcheol, hips swaying from side to side and ass on display, to catch his attention. 

when you start to mix your drink at the kitchen counter, you feel a hand snake around your waist, pulling you close. you smirk to yourself, the touch not unfamiliar as you know your plan worked.

“not going to say hi to me, baby?” seungcheol purrs in your ear, making the hairs stand up on the back of your neck and shivers tingle down your spine. you’d never let him know that though, as you twist in his hold, coming face to face with his smug smirk, a nonchalant expression on your own features. 

“you looked busy.” your red solo cup reaches your lips, keeping eye contact with seungcheol as his eyes follow your movements. a tension builds, almost palpable when a cocked brow grows on seungcheol’s face as he assesses your own demeanor. 

“never too busy for you,” he teases as you roll your eyes. seungcheol tugs on your belt loops, pulling you impossibly close to his body, his large hands rubbing against your ass. he watches intently as your tongue reaches out to moisten your lips, the thoughts in his mind running a mile a minute.

the night is definitely getting more interesting than you anticipated. 

the bass from the living room speakers booms against your knees, the vibrations adding friction to the arousal in between your legs as you guide seungcheol’s cock into the back of your throat. your mouth fit around him comfortably, his girth making it difficult to swallow him whole. his hand coaxes the back of your head, gently pushing you further along his length and making you choke, the sensation making his cock throb. his moans fill the small bathroom and his hand grips your hair when he sees you look back up at him, tears filling your eyes. “that’s right, fucking take all of me, baby..”

when you look up at seungcheol, the harsh yellow of the overhead lighting couldn’t overtake the pure gratification you feel seeing his eyes closed, head tilted back and his mouth fit into a tight ‘o’ shape. light beads of sweat grace his skin, emphasizing his toned chest that peaked from his unbuttoned shirt and you grip his jeans as he starts to lose control, pumping his cock into your mouth at a rough pace. he looks down at you, his previously perfectly tousled hair now drenched, falling in front of his dark eyes, completely filled with lust and arousal. “just like that, fuck. you’re going to make me cum with that mouth of yours. ”

your pride reaches an all time high at his words, gaining the courage to hollow your cheeks and suck him into your mouth as he continues to thrust inside of your mouth. he doesn’t last long, ropes of thick, white substance shooting straight into your throat. his guttural moan could barely be heard over the muffled music, his thrusts slowing as he comes down from his high and making sure he milks every last drop into your mouth. 

when you swallow his cum, he softly grabs your chin, giving you sweet praises with his touch alone and making you look him in the eyes. they’re dark, completely blown out from arousal and filled with fire as he says, his voice low and radiating heat, “fuck, you’ve ruined me for everyone else, sweetheart.”

[idesofrevolution]

Never Enough

I wanted so badly to be like him. I’d stare at him from afar every day I commuted home from work. He was tall, he was stacked, he was dark, he was fuckin perfect. Each time I saw those arms, twice the size of my head, I had to stifle til the little moan I knew would escape my lips. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know anything about him except he must have lived nearby, since he was jogging nearly every day down the main strip. No shirt, beadlets of sweat glistening on that ebony skin, trailing down a set of washboard abs into a soaked pair of black shorts.

He was everything I knew I could never be. Surely a couple roid rages helped him along the way, but there’s something to be said about genetics. He had the genes I wouldn’t ever have. So I would sit there like creepy voyeurist every day and drool over this sweaty lug of a man I’d never met but so heavily admired.

I couldn’t tell you what the catalyst was for my google search that day. Maybe it was the fact I was bored out of my mind at work, or maybe that angst just kept compiling subconsciously until I finally did something about it. Either way, I found myself seeing what could be done about the way I looked, about who I was. A few pages down the line, well past 20 or so, I saw one result which piqued my curiosity.

“MelaSculpt” was the product. The little snippet of description on the search page described a fitness supplement for black men. I didn’t really think as I clicked the page that I would find anything of use to myself. After all, a black man I am not- but male is male right? And health supplements aren’t discriminative to my knowledge. The page for some company named VitaCorp opened quickly, and the page did take me back a bit. A studly mocha skinned man smirked back at me, flexing his vascular biceps while shoving a small orange pill into the foreground.

“MelaSculpt is the newest addition to VitaCorp’s growing list of nutritional supplements, which is aimed at improving the wellness and physique of men of color. Specially balanced for peak performance and quick results, this supplement will help YOU get the body of your dreams.” I scrolled past the ingredients list and disclaimers, much more interested in seeing the before and after photos of previous clients. The results were staggering. One man was easily 300 pounds overweight in his before picture, and after one treatment he was cut, lean, and healthy. Another was the opposite: gangly and paper thin before, ripped and bulked after. I kept swiping the pictures, before realizing the gallery was almost 200 photos. Before I could stop myself I had already purchased the bottle.

The rest of the day went by as normal, the draining, soul sucking grind of a day working had made me forget entirely that I had bought the supplements. So imagine my surprise upon arriving home when I saw a nondescript black package in my mailbox with a bright orange VitaCorp logo on it. It wasn’t possible! I looked, the company was out of Australia, I wasn’t even close. Unless they had a fulfillment center here in town, this couldn’t be it. Though, sure enough, as I ripped the plastic open, the matte black bottle rolled out into the palm of my hand.

I booked it inside, immediately rushing to my bathroom to examine the contents further. The futuristic font glistened the MelaSculpt name, teasing me as I ripped the plastic ring off the cap and twisted it open. The inside was full of cotton, and after pulling out what seemed like an inordinate amount of it, I saw two large orange pills in the bottom of the bottle. For a moment I was beyond pissed. What kind of rip off scheme did I buy into this time? I grabbed the package, shaking it upside down, hoping for a set of written instructions or a receipt. Luckily, a small card labeled “USER GUIDE” toppled onto the cold tile floor. I picked it up and began to read.

“Thank you for your purchase! We sincerely hope your experience with MelaSculpt enhances your life in every way you might hope. To begin your journey, take a test amount of a 1/4 pill to ascertain tolerance. Do not exceed 2 pills per person in totality.

WARNING: MelaSculpt is designed for use in men of color only. Side effects may include…”

I tossed the card aside, eager to get started. The orange pill glistened in my palm, presegmented into four doses. I broke off the first portion and swallowed it, washing it down with water from the tap. I stood a front the mirror, preparing myself to say goodbye to this corporeal prison and hello to a hunky Adonis like the jogger. It didn’t take long.

It had been merely second before I doubled over. I could hear the bubbling and groaning of my stomach, feeling it gurgle and pulsate. Immediately, I was convinced I was poisoned. Some random website I had found on Google supplied me Arsenic or Ricin… and I was dumb enough to take it. The first burp escaped my mouth, and I could feel instant relief. I stumbled into the bedroom, leaning on the dresser before actually looking down at my midriff. Beneath my shirt, which once was ill fitting and awkward, my stomach seemed to strain against the fabric. I ripped the shirt from my torso, buttons flying off it.

Beneath that cheap polyester were six little bumps vaguely protruding from my former gut. Another belch, and my swollen love handles seemed to collapse in on themselves. I was shocked, no, thrilled to see my waistline shift and bulk as two cumgutters started to balloon out. That was all fine and good, until my head began to spin. Yet another belch. I grasped onto the dresser, trying desperately to balance myself. But just as the world began to warp and blur, I thought I saw the slightest pinpricks of dark skin begin to cascade down my fingertips before it all went black.

I woke up on the ground. My head throbbed with a migraine straight from hell, rubbing my pulsating temples. Light streamed through the blinds, it was the next day for certain. As my throbbing eyes finally began to adjust, the world around me became clearer. Immediately, I saw them. Toes. My toes. BLACK toes. I wriggled my big toe, just to make sure they were in fact mine, before looking down at my hands. They were a dark ebony, tattoos sprinkled on my wrists and up my thick forearms. I scrambled to my feet and looked in the mirror.

What met my gaze were two meaty pecs, cobblestone abs, arms the size of a cantaloupe… a snaking bulge creeping further and further down my shorts. I hadn’t even looked at my face, I was too scared to look. No, scared wasn’t the right word, it was the mounting anticipation of just who I now was. I looked up, and my breath was taken away. My hair was a wild jumble of black curly locks radiating out into an afro. My chiseled jawline had a light stubble, the only two places on my entire body where I had hair. Every single inch of this sculpted, godlike body was smooth, chiseled, and powerful.

Taking a breath, the light scent of sweat emanated from my pits and feet. Just one whiff gave me a head rush as if I’d taken a hit of poppers. I panicked in the moment, refusing to believe this was who I now was. I pulled and prodded my face as if I were wearing a mask, but alas, this was my face. This was real. And a devilish smirk crept onto my face.

————

That was seven months ago. Truthfully, I’d adjusted pretty naturally into being Jabari. After a day or two of no showing at work, when the boss called the apartment I just explained I was the new tenant. I have no idea what happened to the guy before me. I was Jabari Jefferson, I’d just moved to town from Baltimore and was looking for a gig in personal training. The landlord just kinda accepted I was the new tenant, as long as the rent was paid she didn’t really care.

I started to get more comfortable going out in my new body, appreciating the winks and stares of those who passed. That kind of admiration changes a guy, you start to kind of believe it. I found my own new style, I found a gym to work at down the street from the house. I hit up the bars and happily took home any sexy adult I could find. They couldn’t get enough of that subtle, salty funk which seemed to linger around me; that testosterone laden musk which, admittedly got me and my 9 inch cock off after nearly every session on the basketball court. I made a name for myself around the neighborhood for being “that guy.” The one everyone wanted to be, the guy I always dreamed I’d become. That however, leads us to todays events.

The sun was beaming down on me, as I contently shot some hoops before I hit up my date at a bar down the street. The energy I felt every single day. It was so strong and powerful. That virility, that libido, that strength… it was addictive. I plopped down onto the bench, prying my size 13 LeBron 19’s from my damp, socked foot. Taking a not so guilty whiff of that sharp, satisfying scent of a damn good game, just as I did after every hoop sesh. I tossed the sneakers into the bag and pulled out my slides, only for something to roll right out of the bag as I did.

I looked down at my wet feet on the pavement to see the black bottle of MelaSculpt had fallen out of my bag. Truthfully, I’d forgotten where I put it months ago: out of sight, out of mind. But as I looked down at it, that little nagging voice in the back of my head began to pick at me. Those feelings I felt that day, that euphoric rush. The power of my flexing muscles, the taste of my sweat, the touch of my skin… it all came back to me at once.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That sensation, that lust for power and strength more than ever before is as enticing as it sounds even now. I opened my eyes, and delicately grabbed the bottle. The pill and 3/4 rattled around the bottom of the black container, teasing me even further. I looked down at my glistening muscles, slick with sweat, and imagined just how much more I wanted. It wasn’t enough to be sexy and strong, I had to be the strongest. I had to be the one.

In that moment of irrevocable weakness, I twisted the cap off and swallowed the remainder of the pill I’d used the first time. I didn’t remember the instructions, I didn’t remember the warnings, I remembered that feeling. It was the only thing in my mind as a triple dose made its way down my throat. Just as the first time, I doubled over on the bench, my stomach rumbling audibly to even passersby. I groaned and let out a cacophonous belch, one that even surprised myself. My chest ballooned out almost comically as a cartoon. Veins bulged prominently out of my thinning skin as my necklace burst from the base of my throat, too fragile for the force of my widening neck.

I scampered and stumbled blindly into the locker room, fortunately empty at the time. I let out another cavernous burp, which echoed throughout the room. My thighs bubbled outward in grotesque disproportion to the rest of my musculature. I crawled on the floor toward a shower stall, making it in before just as the time before the world began to spin. I got one final glimpse of my biceps contort and spasm before it all went dark.

I awoke in that shower stall in agony. Every muscle felt stiff and stone like in the cramped stall. I couldn’t even fit my entire body in the stall, my feet stuck out from beneath the door. The smell, it was strong. I enjoyed that savory, delectable scent of masculine musk before, but this was different. The only word I could describe it with is pungent. Like high quality Gorgonzola, and it was pouring out of every crevice of my body. I pushed the stall door open, which nearly came off from the force of my strength.

Getting to my feet, I crept slowly toward the sink, feeling every contraction of every muscle, thinly veiled behind my hairless skin. I got to the mirror. I had tripled in size. Muscles bulged from every direction, built far past the natural threshold I even knew existed. My dreads had all but fallen off, leaving a buzzed hair which exposed veins protruding from even my own scalp. I could feel my heart pumping every single beat, and the blood flowing across my entire body. The power was incomprehensible, it was incredible. It was… far too much for me. I scrambled back to my bag, tossing my favorite sneakers across the room, never to fit my rank size 17 feet ever again.

The bottle seemed tiny in my massive hand, I strained to see the instructions printed on the card I’d left inside. The only thing I could make out was the final words at the bottom of the paper: “Effects permanent. Use with caution.” My heart skipped a beat, I looked at myself in the mirror, a roid-inflated version of the Jabari I had built, nurtured, valued, loved… this wasn’t me. It felt wrong. I looked down at my phone desperately trying to look up the VitaCorp webpage to no avail. I screamed and punched the wall, my fist going straight through the tile and plaster.

My breathing labored, heavy, and hard, I looked down at the bottle again, chucking it into the bin. I looked at myself in the mirror, accepting there in that moment that Jabari was gone. This walking muscle was who I now was. I now had to concoct an entirely new persona yet again. But the only thing I could think of, was how much I wanted what I had lost.

[geryone]

Tagged by @briarhips (thank you ❤️) to make a post of 9 book recs!!! ❤️

1. The Book of X by Sarah Rose Etter

Etter is quickly becoming a new favorite writer! Cassie is born with her abdomen twisted in a knot and her family owns a meat quarry. So weird & so good.

2. The Dumb House by John Burnside

One of my personal favorites. A man tries recreating an experiment to discover the origin of language. The narrator experiments on his own children. The story itself is so upsetting but the worst part is living in the mind of the narrator who feels NOTHING.

3. At Night All Blood is Black by David Diop

A small book that packs a huge punch. The story of a soldier’s descent into madness in the trenches while fighting in WWI.

4. Our Wives Under The Sea by Julia Armfield

Lesbians, deep sea horror, & the experience of grieving someone who is physically still with you

5. Strange Beasts of China by Yan Ge

This audiobook was INSANE!! Have listened to it many times. Scifi book about different types of “beasts” that exist in the world. Told in different short stories. Think about this book often!!

6. My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell:

I don’t recommend this lightly. This one is hard to read & deeply uncomfortable. About the relationship between a 15 year old girl and her 45 year old teacher. Partly told from the perspective of 15 year old Vanessa & also from Vanessa when she’s 30. A reflection on trauma & the inability to let yourself believe you are a victim.

7. The Death of Jane Lawrence by Caitlin Starling:

Essentially Crimson Peak. Gothic horror & such a fun audiobook to listen to in the fall.

8. Rien Ne Va Plus by Margarita Karapanou:

This book is about a relationship ending & all the cruelty and pain that are involved. Told from the perspective of both people. Adored this!!

9. Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis:

This book was formative read for me as a teenager. A retelling of Psyche & Eros told from the perspective of an older sister. I related so hard to Orual the first time I read this :(

Tagging: @jockpoetry @coffee-writes @iloveyoumorethangod @emiliosandozsequence @bloedkoraal @mermaidteeth @saintmelangell @woundthatswallows @oliverisms @othellho @typewriter-worries @unmarrow + anyone else who wants to :) !! Always looking for more recs

[delirious-donna]

What Did You Call Me? [Gaara]

Oct. 26 - Gaara x female reader

A moment of passion turns into something dark and twisted when you let slip a new pet name. Rather than be repulsed, it strikes a match against a primal part of Gaara's soul.

warnings: daddy kink, riding, mating press, orgasm denial, overstimulation, marking, praise, Gaara snapping like an elastic band

Masterlist

The night had started much like so many before had, coaxing your overtired husband away from the study and into your awaiting bed.

Helping him undress to petulant moans that he was perfectly capable of getting ready for bed on his own, yet you knew he didn’t really mean it. Of course, he was capable of going through the motions of stripping out of his clothes and stepping into the loose black pants that he favoured, but he adored being cared for.

You weren’t babying him, only demonstrating how deeply you loved him. That he would never go forgotten, you were there to ensure he did not stay at his desk well into the night and although he feigned his grumbles, you could always see the appreciation in his drowsy eyes.

Tonight, they were jewel bright and sharp, they followed you around the room whilst you went through your own nightly routine. Gaara always looked the most relaxed in these moments, the minutes before you were both tucked up in bed. An arm resting behind his head, sheets barely covering up to his hips and that faint pink that would tip his ears each time you bent over to put something away.

“Gaara, I need you.”

You whispered into the darkness, a palm inching across the expanse of his chest as you rolled over to face him. Drowsy eyes blinked, a soft smile painting his lips and he hummed an unknown melody as your lips sought him out in eagerness.

He tasted spicy, bursts of cardamom upon your tongue and you swallowed his groan of surprise at how hard you pressed against him. Slipping inside his mouth to flick your tongue against his, travelling the expanse of his teeth before sucking on his lower lip.

“Where do you need me, my sunshine?”

The words were offered between kisses, small bursts of moments to allow for the much-needed air to fill your lungs. You felt overpowered by how rapidly this fiery need consumed you, it had not been on your mind prior to settling into Gaara’s protective side, but something about his familiar scent and warmth had sent you reeling.

With a leg draped over his own, you rolled further over to straddle his lap fully and dragged your slit across the stirring of his erection.

“Does this answer your question, my love?”

Gaara grunted a short sharp exhale as his hands flew to your waist and stroked your sides. Your fingers sought out his red locks, working them through his hair until you were tugging. Shifting the angle of his face, letting yourself fall back to the kisses that were stealing away your remaining sanity.

His fingers teased at the underside of your breasts, letting the roughened pads slowly slide up until he could lower your nightdress and bare them to his hungry gaze. A thumb swiped over the stiffened peak, making you jolt and roll your hips further down on his awakening cock.

Gaara was swept into your ardent passion, little bolts of lightning running up his spine at how wonderful you always made him feel. How needed, desired and wanted he was to you. He could spend an age loving you, worshipping your body like you were some higher deity, but he sensed your urgency tonight.

Feeling between your bodies, skimming his fingers across the damp cotton of your panties, he lowered his pants enough to let his cock spring free. His hand made to wrap around the base but you beat him to it, your much smaller fingers tightening around his shaft until he was biting his lip to halt the moans that were close to bubbling free.

“You’re so eager tonight, what has gotten into you?”

“Nothing yet, but I’m hoping you’ll let me sink on this beautiful cock if I ask nicely enough?” you quipped back, lighting up at the chuckle of laughter that greeted you.

His thumb pressed beneath the edge of your panties, gathering the strands of slick already painting your folds before pushing towards your clit. Soft circular movements, letting you whimper with need whilst your fingers clutched into his shoulders and lips popped open in a silent moan.

“Be my guest, sunshine,” he said with a rasp.

You were shifting, moving around to help with pressing your soaked panties to the side and guiding him to where you needed him most. Savouring the feel of slicking his cock along your wetness until he locked into place and your hips ground down.

Gaara’s grip moved to your waist, down to your hips and helped you fuck yourself on the tip of his cock. Working your pussy open with the steady roll of your hips and guttural groans of delight. His gaze was even more hooded than usual, transfixed with the hand that brushed through your hair whilst the other palmed your breast.

In no time at all you were moving faster, the frenetic bounce of your hips to meet the ones below driving you onwards. Wet smacks of skin on skin grew louder with each and every descent and suddenly you could feel that familiar tingle shoot across your chest.

“Oh…” You whined, face scrunched up and Gaara bit his lip at how flushed and sexy you looked in the throes of your building ecstasy.

“Are you going to cum for me?”

Your head rolled back, fervent nods offered in reply and he assumed you won’t verbally respond as little gasps flood the air, but he is surprised when you do speak. When you offer him a name he has never heard from you before nor had he ever expected to hear in this context.

“Mmhmm. Yes, Daddy.”

The eyes that had been droopy, lazy with lust and fatigue snap wide. Strong fingers bite into the plush of your hips and force you to stop moving. You cry and whimper, your orgasm being denied and it’s like you don’t even realise what you said.

A petulant pout sits upon your lips, but Gaara is more focused on the rev within his chest. His heart feels like it might tear straight through his rib cage, a tightness that is close to painful grips his heavy balls and he sits up in a hurry.

“What did you call me?” he inquired quietly. The calm tone beneath his words has your eyes flying to his own and you recall what you had said with mortification descending upon you. Oh god, how could you have let that slip out? Sure, it was a turn-on for you but one that was embarrassing and you had never shared it with anyone, not even your husband, not til now.

“Oh shit, I - I didn’t mean to—”

Gaara cut you off by grabbing at your jaw, his thumb pressed into your cheek until your lips parted in surprise. He tilted your face from side to side, admiring you with such a wickedly sharp look that you wanted to groan but are too fearful to do so.

“Didn’t ask for excuses, now, tell me. What did you call me?” he repeated and your spine straightened at the dominance he exerts over you.

“D-Daddy.”

Your voice is meek, eyes sinking away from him and there is a click of teeth seconds before you're rolled to your back. Pressed deep into the mattress, your legs forced against your chest with Gaara securing his hands at the bend of your knees.

You had almost forgotten your lost orgasm, the release that had been so close but fluttered away when your hips had been forced to still, but with one dutiful stroke, your usually docile husband had you clawing at him.

Never had he felt so feral, so driven to consume you with every primal fibre of his being. Gaara had snapped at that one word and having never considered it as something to desire before, now, he only wanted to hear it again.

Your breasts bounced from every forceful meeting of your hips, knees pressed tightly to your body and you struggled to take air into your lungs. Every inhale was knocked straight back out with the sinful roll of his hips, and when his thumb crashed hard against your throbbing clit, you lost your mind.

Everything was in freefall, gripping him with your velvet walls as your back arched high and your throat strained taut. His weight was close to overbearing as he leaned forward to bite and suck on your lips, his mouth trailing down your neck and leaving a path of bruises - his mark of ownership - on your skin.

“That’s it sunshine, cum on Daddy’s cock. Such a good girl for me.”

You whimpered at the lust in his voice, at the deep tone that answered an instinctual call within your gut. Gaara straightened to his knees once more, driving his twitching cock deep into your walls and from this position you could watch as it disappeared into your pussy. The base was ringed in thick cream and you wriggled from the feeling of overstimulation, his cockhead rubbing incessantly against your sweet spot.

“Please… oh please. Daddy s’too much.”

He chuckled and it made you gasp, your gentle husband was gone and in his place was the man you would come to know as only Daddy.

Daddy didn’t visit often, but when he did, you couldn’t walk right for days…

[juniperjellyfish]

Happy last day of pride everyone! Here’s an unedited sneak peak at Extinction Part Two

(REMEMBER, THIS IS UNEDITED)

“Kai, hurry up!” I pound the door and hear the rush of water go silent.

“Relax, Cole,” his muffled voice comes over the shuffling of clothes. He opens the door and lets me in.

I bite my tongue and hold back a gasp of shock as he stands there in gray sweats, towel in hand… and no shirt.

“You good?” He backs up and wrings out his shoulder length hair, dripping it into the bathtub.

I watch as he bends over and brushes his hair off with the towel. Averting my eyes, I grab my toothbrush and mutter a weak, “Yes.”

I put toothpaste on it, wet it, and start brushing my teeth as Kai continues talking.

“Ya know, with how many times we’ve rebuilt this place, you think we would’ve put in another bathroom.” He stands and flips his hair over his back like a model, sending a hot flutter through my chest.

I nod in agreement and force myself to look away.

“Wanna go a few rounds in Lava Zombie 2?” He leans into me casually and the heat from his skin makes my heart stop.

I spit out the toothpaste and wipe off my mouth with a tissue, “Oh, I- I- I should get some sleep. I have patrols with Zane in the morning.”

“That’s okay buddy.” He gives me that oh-so charming smile of his, “I get if you don’t want to lose your winning streak.” Kai cracks his knuckles and laughs with a hint of pettiness on his tongue.

“Ha ha, HairGel. You know you’ll never beat me.”

He tilts his head and smirks, looking me up and down. The way he bites his lip makes it seem as if I’m the size of an ant and he towers over me. “You’re probably right. Also,-“ he slicks his hair back and leans in closer to the mirror, “-you mind if I crash in your room tonight? Lloyd kinda took over my bed and that kid kicks like no other.”

“You know I snore right?” Where did that come from? Of course I want him to stay in my room!

He flexes his arms and smiles into his reflection. “Yeah, but I don’t feel like being a third wheel to Nya and Jay or Zane and Pix, plus Lloyd’s room smells overwhelmingly like candy.”

“Okay!” I purse my lips from my burst of excitement, “You can stay with me no-problem.”

“Thanks!” He puts his arm up on my shoulder and I stare at the floor, “I’ll just take your hammock.”

I clear my throat, “O-okay, do you need any blankets?” Of course he doesn’t! He never uses them! He’s the master of fire! He’s always hot!

Literally and figuratively.

Shut up.

“Ha!” He waved his hand at me, “The Master of Fire doesn’t need blankets!”

“Alright then, I’ll see you in a second.” I step out of the bathroom and glance back, admiring Kai’s dark golden skin, the small drops of water that roll down his back, the way his muscles flex when he moves, and…

Snap out of it, Cole!

I shake my head and walk silently into my room, images of him swim through my brain, making my cheeks burn.

I slide the door shut behind me and walk over to the window sill, basking in the warm pink and orange light that bleeds into the clouds like watercolors on paper.

Stepping back, my heart pounds in my ears while I slide open a black dresser drawer and pull out a woven hammock.

The thumping of the blood in my head drowns out the thoughts of Kai, at least until my door opens and artificial, yellow lights spill in, casting his perfect shadow across the floor.

“That was fast.” I laugh quietly, trying to hide the edge on my voice.

Kai walks over to me and takes one end of the hammock from me, “All I needed to do was brush my hair.”

We hang the hammock on the hooks in the walls and he hops in, swinging back and forth about waist high on me.

He puts his hands behind his head and speaks softly, “Thanks again, man.”

“Yeah,” I sit on the edge of my bed, “No problem.” Laying down, I close my eyes and pull a blanket over myself. My heart twists in my chest with an addicting pain.

This stupid crush is only getting worse.

If I made a move on him now, would he accept it?

Probably not, I doubt he even knows I don’t like girls like he does.

There’s always a chance that he would accept an advance, though… right?

The thought of me taking Kai’s hand and pulling him onto the bed with me explodes in my brain with a flash of color. The way I’d pull him under me and watch the steam rise off his body…

Nope!

My eyes snap open.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Stop it Cole, you’re being creepy. You can’t do this. Nope. Nope. Nope.

I roll over and face the wall away from Kai, burying my head in my hair.

Maybe some day.

“Hey, Cole…”

I turn back the other way, “Yeah?”

“I have a question to ask you.”

[thenightcallsme]

ATWOW | Neteyam Sully, pt. 4

" And from Neteyam… From Neteyam, I get everything, and then nothing at all."

Synopsis: In the face of danger, the Sully's must leave their clan. Neteyam is the one to break the news. Will you go with them? Who will be the one to fight your case?

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Ometikaya OC (Gi'anya, or Gi for short)

Contains: established OC POV, a smidge of angst???, everything is fixed in the end, little extra POV at the end from my darling Kiri

Word count: 6,617

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

• • • • •

Dull aches of pain echo each step I take. In just one night, I have learned to find a comfortable rhythm in my stride. As comfortable as a bullet wound can get. A reality where I didn’t sport a bloodied bandage in need of changing would be worlds better, but that is not my reality, so instead, I sport the bandage with a sort of pride. It’s a reminder that I am still alive under Eywa’s tenacious guidance, and it's her caution to not find myself in stupid future situations.

Through the word of Kiri, Neteyam has asked for me. Kiri is never short of being high on life, something I envy her for, but when she relayed her older brother’s wishes, there was something dark in her eyes. Sullen, apologetic. An emotion unlike her. I mark it down to the fresh hurt of Spider’s capture, something that has hit her and Lo’ak hard. I feel it, too, the lack of his small yet determined presence saddening, the idea of what is being done to him unsettling. But even with such a plausible explanation, I am unsure. Despite my current mood of indifference and the hums that reverberate behind my lips, that look is ever present in my mind's eye, haunting an otherwise usual request.

In the past year, the Sully’s and I have made it our mission to make High Camp feel like home. To the best of our abilities, at least. Home Tree was riddled with nooks and crannies that housed our secret hangouts and held copious childhood memories. Now all of it was reduced to ash carried away in the wind. We’ve combed thoroughly through the flying mountains in search of places that would be wholly ours. The one I find my way to is more out in the open and often inhabited by other younger Na’vi. Eclipse approaches, and as I make my way up the natural steps protruding from the side of the main base, it seems all have retreated under the promise of night. Nestled at the base of a jagged overhang ahead is a small stretch of plush grass that grows from the small circle of soil. From it sprouts the gnarled, twisted foundations of a hearty tree, impossible in age and size atop its natural pot of soil, and yet here it is. 

Patches of wildflowers, mushroom heads, and glowing tangles of weeds peak through the soft grassy fingers that reach from the soil. My footsteps leave faint, glowing imprints in the ground that fade as I advance beneath a day at rest. Bioluminescent life instead lights the way to the tree. Its lush head of leaves cascades in a waterfall of fertile green, intertwining with small hair-like vines of neon pinks and blues.

Standing with his shoulder against the base of the tree is Neteyam, who idly twirls an unsheathed blade of obsidian between nimble fingers. It glides with a practised grace. Upon the sound of my approach, he sheathed it swiftly in the viperwolf hide scabbard at his narrow waist. His ears prick my way, tail swishing as he turns over his shoulder with that grin I love so much, all sharp teeth and dripping confidence. Neteyam is rarely obnoxious in his masculinity, but his lazy, lopsided grins are utterly male, and they always prod at a deep want. A need.

“Gi’anya,” Neteyam says by way of greeting.

I give him a gentle smile of my own and don’t hesitate to approach. “You called?”

He hums and returns his gaze to the sky, which yields to a wildfire of orange blazing on the horizon. “I did.”

Confirming the wary look in Kiri’s eyes is an indescribable atmosphere that follows Neteyam. His usual infectious air of ease and content is nowhere to be seen. Though he tries to not let it show, the way he avoids my gaze and his grin falls into a tight-lipped line. My stomach turns in warning.

“Kiri tells me you’ve been speaking with one of the warrior’s daughters, Eykana,” he continues. The subtle line of questioning is too casual to be his overall goal. It’s not often that he prods at my unsuccessful social life, either. “What’s she like?”

“She’s sweet,” I answer. “Very talkative, so far nice. I like her.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Good. That’s really good.”

“Mmm, but I wonder if she has another goal,” I continue. He looks over, curiously urging me to continue. “And she’s friends with Serexa and shit. They may not be close, but it still makes me think. I think her intentions are pure, but they do not hold me in mind.”

“How so?” He huffs a tired laugh. “You know you can be extremely untrusting, too much for your own good?”

I roll my eyes. “Trust me, just wait till you hear how much she talks about you. She wants you, ‘Teyam, and she’s just finding the easiest way to you.”

He shakes his head. The beads in his braids chatter against each other. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“Come on. Really? Last week it was Naimera, before that it was Quia. Even Serexa has been nice to me. Do you not see?” At his silence, I continue. “You’re coming of age. Soon you’ll take your dad's place and you still have no other half. The girls are getting desperate.”

He sighs. “I’m not interested in them.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Haven’t heard that before. Very surprising.”

“Just give  her a chance.”

“I am.”

“It doesn’t sound like—”

“Neteyam.” I cut off, standing up straighter and levelling him with an exasperated gaze. “What is this for?”

He purses his lips and…cowers. Beneath my inquisitive eyes, Neteyam’s shoulders seem to inch inwards, his ears twitching towards his skull and brow pinching.  “What is what for?”

I sigh. “Asking about a girl I’ve barely had any interaction with out of the blue is strange. And I really don’t like the vibe you’re giving off.”

“Hey.” His tone is somewhat teasing, but it sounds very hollow. “Don’t insult my vibe.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I’m just looking out for you. You need more opportunities, more life.”

Despite the strangeness of this encounter, he speaks truthfully. For the Sully’s, I couldn’t be more thankful. They have given me love and somewhat of a family when no one else was willing to. I am not officially their own and am instead an emancipated orphan. But there’s this unspoken rule that speaks otherwise. When I turned up at the Mother Tree speaking an alien language and brandishing the image of the sky people, my luck was thin. Even at my younger age, you’d think most would have been sympathetic to this scarred and scared child. Jake Sully was the only one to step up. 

Jake understood the strange language I spoke and understood my fears, welcoming me into a life I should have had from the start. While Jake and his mate, Neytiri, showed me unconditional love, the rest were indifferent. The adults didn’t acknowledge me, and those my age never tried to connect. Why do you have five fingers? Why do you speak that way? Where is your family? You are not like us. These childish questions never manifested into a wish to know more about me. The Omatikaya did not owe anything to me albeit their leader's acceptance; I had no family name, no natural ties to their world.

Much of my life has been shadowed by a desire for more, and unfortunately for me, the one thing I needed desperately to be happy was not my right: connections. Yet, in all the despair, there was hope: the Sully’s. Growing up alongside them was my vantage point. We’ve been inseparable ever since. Tuk showers me with pure and unconditional love, and from Lo’ak I can always find humour in sadness. Kiri and I share a strong bond only shared between women, something I thank Eywa for every day; to not have her would be torture. And from Neteyam… From Neteyam, I get everything, and then nothing at all.

For as long as I can remember, Neteyam and I have been extremely close, being less than a year apart. Together we learned the building blocks of Omatikayan life. We hunted, we explored, we learnt to heed Eywa’s gentle guidance and connect with the world she has given. Our bond has been unbreakable from the start, and while I could never be more grateful, there’s still a dizzying selfishness that takes hold. For years, the sleazy grins, teasing words and occasional brushes of a hand have erupted a war in my mind. I want more from him, more than a friendly face.

 But, just my luck, I cannot have what I want.

“There’s something else,” I push on. “What about some friendship I have with Eykana has you asking for me to come here?”

“I just, I…” His eyes seem to land on anything but my face. “I need to know you’ll be alright.”

My frown deepens. “Alright? Is this about yesterday with Lo’ak? Look, I know I get roped into his escapades more than I should—”

“No, it’s not about Lo’ak, but I do wish you two would stop feeding into this weird echo chamber of danger…” A sigh. “Kiri told me this would be easy, the liar.”

“’Teyam, you’re worrying me.”

My heart flutters in a sickening rhythm. 

“Look, I’m not supposed to be telling you or anyone this right now, but it’s cruel not to. Knowing if you have more than us would ease my mind.” He takes my hands in his with a squeeze. If not for the horrible feeling in my stomach, I’d be a blushing, stuttering mess. “I’m leaving, Gi. Me, Kiri, Dad…all of us.”

I open and close my mouth a few times, only finding it in me to say a quiet, “What?”

“The sky people will stop at nothing to find Dad and tear him and his life apart, starting with the Ometikaya. For the safety of everyone, of all those innocent…he thinks we should leave for a long, long time.”

My breath comes hard and fast, the sick feeling accompanied by a heavy ache in my chest. I tear my hands from his. 

My whole life has been a mistake, a burden in the eyes of Eywa. It’s not often that I am treated kindly by her, but somehow, I think the Sully’s were her one gift of pity. Only now, it feels like a poor joke and everything is slipping between my fingers like solid gold dissolving into worthless sand.

“You’re kidding,” I breathe.

He shakes his head. “I am not.”

“’Teyam, I—you… I can’t—”

I shake my head vigorously, unable to understand what I hear. Jake Sully wants to remove his family for the sake of everyone else’s lives, but does that not put them in more danger? There’s power in numbers, he used to tell me when I refused the groups I was assigned to during training many years ago. I was stubborn to put trust only in myself, but in his eyes, to trust others was to be strong. Now it seems his own advice has been picked up by a strong wind and whisked away.

“You can’t leave me here,” I beg. “I can’t survive here, I can’t.”

His eyes soften. Behind the sympathy and sorrow, there’s a sign of distress. “You doubt yourself too much. You’re strong-willed, no matter what you or the others think.”

“You don’t understand.” My voice aches, a manifestation of the painful swell of my heart. “Without you and your family, I would not be here. Or anywhere.”

Pressure builds behind my eyes and nose as tears threaten to spill. I blink rapidly and look away in shame. I cannot be like this in front of Neteyam, who I’ve always held up a strong front for. Even worse, my heart is breaking right before me, ripping apart into tiny pieces and collecting at my feet. Neteyam sees nothing but a friend in me, but even amid truth, I can’t help but dream.

“Hey, hey,” he coos. “Do not cry for me.”

I sniff. Everything about this is wrong. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to live,” he urges, his hand falling to my shoulder with a gentle shake. “You’re going to prove yourself to the rest.”

“No—”

“You have to.”

Suddenly, a bubbling anger erupts from the pits of my churning stomach, threatening to spill. Anger towards him, or Jake, or the state of the world, I’m not sure, but it’s overwhelming regardless. I shove his hand away roughly. Unnecessarily. The look in his eyes tells me it’s a silent jab to reject his comfort. Those feline ears twitch, drawing towards his skull. Slowly, I shake my head as he silently regards me, overcome by too many things at once.

“What am I saying that isn’t clicking.” My voice has gone cold and flat, emotionless against a painful subconscious war. “I would have thought you understood me. …You don’t.”

Those words draw something from him I do not expect. His ears flatten further, tail falling to brush the back of his toned thighs. His heavy-lidded, golden eyes narrow a fraction and his brow lowers. There’s an unfamiliar vibrato in his voice, sounding not only sorrowful and desperate but frustrated, as he speaks.

“That is not true.”

Every millisecond the reality of his words closes in, boxing me into a dark corner destined for me to waste away in. Every comfort I have ever known is no longer mine. The tears are coming now, hot and angry and shameful. I shouldn’t have sounded angry, shouldn’t have pushed him away, but my destructive taste for ignoring everything wrong can only hold so long. Now it has burst, I’m even more unsure of what to do. I need to be alone. I need to think. Without another word, I step around Neteyam with ragged breath, shoving away his outstretched hand.

My tears coming harder and faster once my back has turned. Soft pinks and harsh oranges melt away on the sunset, conquered by the promise of a dark night. Luminescent freckles appear on my skin in imitation of the budding stars above. A faint and miserable call of my name chases at my heels as I descend the stone staircase, but I don’t dare look back. Moss and lichen fade blanket the rock beneath my feet. My vision has blurred dangerously, and for a moment, I warn myself to slow down; one misstep could send me tumbling over the edge. And while I listen to the survival instinct, a sad voice challenges the response.

Why slow? Why not let it happen as Eywa seems fit?

I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

Nobody looks my way once I’ve made it back to the heart of the skyward village. By now I have managed to wipe away the tears and conceal any visible sign of sadness. However, with a close enough look, they’re still there: glossy eyes, a pinkish tint to my nose and cheeks. They’re things a friend or a mother would notice. I don’t have a mother. The closest thing I have to one is about to leave, taking my only friends with her.

It’s dark by the time I stumble into my small hut and I fumble to pull the woven entrance close. The prepared meat I had hunted earlier doesn’t even catch my attention albeit the instinctual growl in my stomach. I want to scream; I want to rip the leaves from the walls, pull my jewellery apart one bead and feather at a time, scratch at my skin and claw out my hair. Never in my life has anything ever been fair, and it sure isn’t now.

For the rest of the night, I sob quietly in my nest on an empty stomach. Some nights I eat with the Sully’s, other’s I keep to myself, though it’s more with them than not. Nobody bothers to visit and I can’t decide whether I’m relieved or not. Maybe it is for the best.

•

The next morning I am just as alone as the night. A ghostly hot sting pricks at my nose and under eyes; a reminder of the restless night I spent crying. The pleasant morning air feels like a mockery, comfortably cool and carrying birdsong. I do not attempt to eat anything so soon. So instead, I spend a small portion of the early morning isolated in my tent, weaving together a grass bracelet. Although, I do not remain alone for long.

A pair of bright golden eyes peak between the flaps of my tent, belonging to a silent body that stares at my back. After a second, a faint psst catches my attention. My ears twitch towards the sound. Turning around, I see little Tuk with a beaming, mischievous smile. An ache pangs in my heart at the sight of her, but for her innocent sake, I try not to let it show.

“Good morning, sweet thing,” I hum.

The greeting is invitation enough. She strides into my tent with purpose. “Momma wants to see you.”

My fingers fall short of the knot I’m about to tie. “…Neytiri?”

She chews on her bottom lip nonchalantly as she swings her hips, hands clasped behind her back and eyes wandering. “She said to come now to our tent. And to be quick.”

“O…Okay.” I smile a little more to hide my confusion. “Lead the way.”

Tuk skips ahead as she leads me down a path so familiar I could walk it with my eyes closed. The walk isn’t far. In Home Tree, I was purposely homed close to the Sully’s after their realisation of their children’s love for me. It is no different in our new settlement. When I do not walk fast enough, the little Sully girl falls back to match my pace, tugging at my fingers and pulling at the beaded accessories falling from my loincloth. Every step is more nerve-racking than the last. It’s not often that Neytiri calls for me.

The sudden sight of their tent makes my head swim. Will Kiri be there? Lo’ak? …Neteyam? I’m not sure I’ll be able to face any of them so soon. Especially Neteyam. Thankfully, the boys go out together on pleasant mornings like this for a fly and a hunt. As we cross the threshold of their tent, my suspicions are true. There is no Neteyam and Lo’ak. Only Neytiri, Jake, and Kiri. The latter sits on an overhead beam that holds up the supports of the communal space in their intricately designed hut. Smiles are not unusual for Kiri, but the one she wears now is incredibly big, juxtaposing the last state I saw her in. I give her a small wave.

“That was quick.” Neytiri turns at the sound of Tuk and I’s approaching footsteps. She scurries from my side to join her sister above.

I bow my head slightly in greeting. “Neytiri. You wanted to see me?”

She clicks her tongue absentmindedly. “You are not busy today, are you?”

“No…” I answer slowly with a shake of my head. I cannot for the life of me predict where this conversation is going. Does she have a job for me to do?

“Perfect. Pack anything that is necessary to you.”

I open my mouth to speak, find no words, and then try again. “…Pack?”

She nods with a hum. “Pack, yes.”

“For…?”

Faintly and slowly, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. It’s ghostly, as if she doesn’t want to give away the amusement she seems to find in this. “For our departure. You’ve been told we must leave, I hear. I hope I heard correctly.”

I’m not supposed to be telling you or anyone this.

My heart stops dead at her implication and I fight down the urge to weep in her arms, fearing that I heard her wrong. She is not referring to her family’s departure. She is not asking me to join them. She just cannot. But, truthfully, I know she is. For a moment, all I can do is stare up at the tall feline woman with wide, puzzled eyes. What was it that told her the decision was right? Or rather, who…

Neteyam told her; it couldn’t be anyone else. He was the one to tell me against the wishes of his parents. He was the one to witness my world crumble away. Kiri knew he planned it, that much was true. Nonetheless, the topic must have come from him. My moment caught in thought seems to amuse Neytiri further. Her smile truly begins to shine and Jake steps forward to place a hand on my shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“We’ve seen how much you mean to our kids, and how much they mean to you,” he says with that kind, guiding voice. “Your bonds are strong and we won’t deny you it.”

“You’re okay with me leaving? With your family?” I breathe, still in disbelief.

“We want you to come.” Jake smiles. “My kids fight a hard case.”

“Thank you,” I breathe. “Really, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“You can show us in time,” Neytiri says. “Now I suggest you hurry. We depart this afternoon.”

My heart is still racing as I make my way back to my hut, this time with Kiri at my side. She practically tackles me with a hug so big you would have thought we were saying goodbye. I hug her back and sink into the freer feeling. Although, while I am almost excited to leave High Camp in search of something else, I am not ignorant of the greater reason. The Sully’s are in danger, and wherever they go, it will follow. It doesn’t bother me one bit. I’m willing to show them how much I care for them, even if that means endangering myself.

“I’m so so so glad you’re coming,” Kiri announces for the fifth time. “I love my family, but sometimes I get tired of them. I could never get tired of you.”

I snort. “It’s not hard to find anyone less tiring than your brothers.”

She laughs her light, breathy laugh that I love so much. Then, a mischievous glint enters her eyes. Kiri circles me as we walk, tail swishing, eyes mischievous. “Speaking of my brothers… You should have heard Neteyam last night.”

I only raise a brow so as not to seem too interested. I pride myself on my ability to disguise my fears, my hopes and my desires. Letting people in sometimes scares me. But then there’s Kiri, who finds her way in against my will. I have never explicitly admitted to her my feelings for Neteyam or indulged in her fantasies; unfortunately, my closest friend is just incredibly understanding. Too understanding. She knows me best.

“He came storming in, already late for dinner, and we were all sitting around waiting,” she continues, knowing I secretly love to hear it. “Dad couldn’t even get a word in about his tardiness before he just blurted out that you were coming. He was all angry from the get-go before anyone could even argue. Mom and Dad tried to talk him down and say it was a risk, but he would not hear it. Lo’ak and I helped out—even Tuk. It only took a few minutes of convincing, by my my, everybody was shocked.”

“He shouldn’t have put that much effort in,” I say with pursed lips. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did last night. I cried and pushed him away when he was just trying to be nice.”

“So I heard. But don’t stress over it, Gi, he was just worried for you. Because he loooves—”

“He does not love me,” I cut her off.

She tsks. “You are blind. But seriously, don’t worry. We know why our home sometimes doesn’t feel like your home. Sometimes I see it myself. The looks, the mumbles. They think I’m strange. I’m only a Sully in name, so I’m not immune.” She shrugs away the thought. “You told Neteyam he doesn’t understand, right?”

“…Yeah.” My voice is full of guilt.

“In the moment, I can see that, but trust me, he understands. He does not feel what you feel, but man,” she rolls her eyes with a huff. “He likes to act all tough and unassuming but sometimes I think his feelings are dictated to yours. Poor thing. His heart is too big for him to handle.”

I laugh at the absurdity. Part of me finds a thrill in the possibility which I hurridly remind myself is nothing more than a girlish wish, for a man to show such care out of undying love. It’s just friendly. “Who would have thought, huh?”

“I’m bored of talking about the mighty warrior,” she says, dropping her voice to mimic her brother’s. “You know, sometimes I wish my parents just adopted you like they adopted me.”

“Well you were a baby,” I reason. “Someone had to. They also knew and loved Grace and I’m just…nobody’s daughter.”

Kiri shakes her head. “I will never understand why that matters.”

I sigh. “I just like to live vicariously through you.”

“You don’t need to live vicariously through me, you’re basically a part of the family,” she argues. It’s light-hearted, but suddenly, she’s frowning in thought. “No matter. Soon you’ll be a Sully regardless.”

I shove at her shoulder as she playfully bumps into me. “I thought talking about him was boring you.”

“Hey, I might be meaning me, not my brother, as we said years ago. Getting bored of the lacklustre males and growing old together, remember?” Her voice is a fun-loving mumble. “But fine, I see where you’re mind lies.”

“Kiri.”

“Fine! Be ignorant. Anyway, let me tell you about where we’re going while I help you pack.”

I’m both surprised and understanding to learn our destination. The Metkayina, an oceanic tribe found on the Eastern Sea reefs. To reach them is a few day’s journey by air, a journey I’m both resenting and restless for. Our ikrans are to be taken with two rucksacks per person. The scantness of my jewellery and clothes allows me to pick quite a few while making room for plentiful weapons and supplies and reliable food. 

Kiri helps me pack as she gushes about the sea people we have yet to meet. She paints their world in vibrant colours and magnificent seas full of the unknown. Each word is more elated than the last. Her enthusiasm is overwhelming, and soon enough, contagious. 

While she couldn’t sound any happier, Kiri is no stranger to sadness. My understanding of her character does not let me miss it. When she gets like this, she’s usually compensating for something, something being the home she has to leave behind. Again. I have little fondness for High Camp and let go of my longing for Home Tree a long time ago, but I have copious amounts of fondness for her. My other half, my second self. My sister not in blood or name, but through a spiritual connection that transcends this life and the many to come. In that fondness, I find secondary sadness.

The announcement of our departure and the ceremony that follows is a mind-numbing blur. It’s felt deep in the heart of the clan, invoking a shared, grateful sadness for their selflessness. ‘Goodbye’s and ‘good luck’s come endlessly. To my surprise, some of them are aimed at me. Many of them come from Eykana who hugs me and squeezes me and tells me there will always be a place in her heart for me. She doesn’t speak to or of Neteyam more than once. There is not nearly enough emotion in the goodbye he receives from her. It is sad, yet simple. What I get from her is greater. 

Did I misread her? 

The question is pointless. Of course I did. In my self-loathing and learned acceptance of always coming second in the hearts and minds of others, I categorised her as just another girl using me to get to the Sully boys. A sadness I didn’t expect to feel today is felt by that realisation. A part of it feels like another joke; it’s just my luck to finally find the promise of a real friend outside of the Sully’s, only for my world to be turned upside down in an instant, pushing that promise away. In my sadness, I make sure to hug her extra tight and whisper to her how much she will be missed. Surprisingly, it’s the truth.

At the foundations of the Spirit Tree, all of the Ometikayan clan gathered, hushed into a deathly silence as Jake knelt before one of our greatest warriors. Tarsem. He is known to be wise beyond his young years, courageously brave and headstrong for the people’s best interest. A cape of bustling red feathers strung from twisted, sharp tusks has been lifted from Jake’s shoulders and placed on Tarsem. I had stood a few feet away from the scene, Kiri’s hand held tightly in mine. The two of us watched on intently, blinking away the thin film of tears that clouded our eyes.

With a mighty cry, Tarsem raised his blade high, aiming the curved edge towards Jake’s bared heart. Neither of them broke their stare as the blade drove down, stopped by a twist of Tarsem's wrist to connect his knuckles with Jake’s chest. With a nod, the blade was pulled away, angled just enough to carve a shallow gash across the skin of his pectorals. The blood that trickled down his chest was a symbol of death in steed of his selfless exile, the spirit of the Olo’eyktan now reborn in Tarsem. The Na’vi erupted into bittersweet cries.

Silent among the cheering crowd, I had reached up a hand to squeeze Neteyam’s shoulder. At the height of the coronation, half my heart ached for Jake, the other for Neteyam, whose entire life purpose has been snatched away before his eyes and bestowed upon another. The title of Olo’eyktan is no longer his by right. It was a path once so solid, so black and white, now unsure. Though his stare never wavered from his father, his own hand reached up to rest above mine. The gentle sweep of a thumb across my knuckles told me he understood where my thoughts lay.

We remained as such for a moment as Tarsem raised his hands to the heavens, Kiri’s fingers woven tightly through mine, my other hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. Lo’ak, who consoled a sniffling Tuk, lingered at his brother’s other side. Soon enough, the celebrations call for a close, and we find ourselves accepting what is to come.

Jake is first to approach the sea of blue bodies and golden eyes, which part for him with bowed heads and whispered prayers. Neytiri falls into stride behind her mate with a quivering lower lip and soft sobs. Tuk searches for her mother’s hand. Kiri retreats next. With a squeeze of my hand, Neteyam urges me to follow. The saliva dries from my mouth as I do so.

A surrealness hangs in the air as we follow Jake and Neytiri to our ikrans. They have been prepared for us already, each perched on the cliffside beyond, bags tightly secured to their saddles with rope nets. As we emerge from the onlooking Na’vi, a tall figure falls into my stride. 

“Apparently Metikayan celebrations are unrivalled, and lucky for us, their season of celebration is now.”

Throughout the ceremony, we had not spoken much, our interactions refined to wordless comfort. Netayam speaks to me now with a calm ease as if last night never occurred. He doesn’t look at me, instead leaning his head down a little as we walk as if we’re sharing a scandalous secret. I crane my head to look up at him.

“Do you even know what they celebrate?”

“No, but if they’re celebrating, I’m all ears.”

I huff a soft laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

At first, I decide I want to forget about last night. Kiri’s understanding of my greed for information, especially about her brother, told me everything I needed to know: he cares. Enough has been said. But as we continue to walk in silence, a nagging feeling begs me to speak. I have to hear it from him and satisfy the starvation that can I never ease.

“How’d you do it?”

Neteyam looks at me then, quiet and thoughtful. He understands what I mean. After a moment, he looks ahead again. “It didn’t take a lot of convincing. The others helped. Mostly Kiri—she’s better than any of us with words.”

I smile at the thought of her. “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” he challenges.

“Why?”

“Because…” This time, he regards me with that wide, effortlessly seductive smile. Our ikrans screech at our arrival. “Because you’re one of us. It’s simple. I should have known what to do the moment I knew we were leaving.”

I barely have time to give him a warm look of appreciation before he’s striding forward to help his mother with Tuk, braids swaying with every stride. I stare after him for a moment longer before I make a beeline for my Ikran. As she bows her head to nuzzle, I can’t help but replay his voice over and over in my head. As if sensing my wandering mind, my Ikran, Vaana, whines.

“Did you hear that, beautiful?” I coo to the beast as I hoist myself onto her back.

Vaana gives me a humbling look as if to tell me I’ve heard those words many times before. She’s right; I have. Forcing down the swell it sends through my chest, I decide it is best not to read into the little things. Neteyam and I’s friendship means more to me than my hopes. I would never let it waste away because I made a move on him he couldn’t reciprocate, driven by a deluded mind. Life can be so unfair sometimes. Its temptations are purposefully cruel. As I connect my queue with my Ikran’s, she gives a huff that echoes my sigh, as if telling me she agrees.

•

Twittering bird chatter is the sign that the second day of the Sully’s travels is coming to a close. Overhead, small feathered animals fight for the best nesting spot for the coming night, calling out for friends and family while shooing away others. The Sully’s and their companion have found a spot deep within a thick wall of trees that surprisingly leaves room for a large family. It so happened that they were a large family. With their beastly Ikran’s surrounding their camp, they light a fire and cook the day’s hunt. Talk was not rare for them, and it wasn’t now, but behind the banter and the easygoing conversations, there was an ignored tension. It emitted from Kiri’s father the most. He felt guilty to see his family taking refuge in a forest days away from their true home, she knew. She also knew there was no use consoling him.

Instead, she takes a seat beside her younger sister, Tuk, weaving beads and leaves through small braids per her request. Across from them sit her brothers, Neteyam and Lo’ak, deep in a playful argument. Though, she wouldn’t be surprised if one of them began to strangle the other. Stood to the side are her parents, vigilant despite their need for sleep. Between Neteyam and her sits her dearest friend and sister on a spiritual level, Gi’anya. 

Gi drifts between conversations with Kiri and Neteyam, unable to deny the occasional question and remark from the latter. It fills Kiri with an amusing pleasure to watch their interactions. She so badly wants to play matchmaker, and while the two of them refuse to admit what everyone knows, she tries her best. Kiri, stop. You’re delusional. We’re. Just. Friends. Whatever. The two of them made it extremely difficult for her, but deep down, she kind of enjoyed the chase if it meant she could poke and prod them here and there.

Soon the sun is setting and the fire is snuffed to protect their whereabouts. Jake urges them all to sleep, and with little Tuk nodding off within minutes, the rest follow so as not to wake her. For a while, Kiri submits to a deep, dreamless sleep. This part of Pandora’s forest is silent in a soothing way. The faint hum of nocturnal beetles sing Kiri unintelligible lullabies. However, she is soon disturbed.

Something draws Kiri from her sleep with a jolt, as if a hand had reached into her subconscious and ripped the roots of her being from slumber. Slowly and silently, she sits up to survey her surroundings. Everything around her is as it should be; Tuk fast asleep in her mother’s arms, her father turned towards wherever he thought danger would emerge from, Lo’ak sprawled out with a soft snore,  Neteyam and Gi…

Eywa!

Kiri’s breath caught in her throat.

The pair sleep with ample space between one another, much to Kiri’s disappointment. Neteyam lies on his back, one hand on his stomach and the other laid out beside him. To his right is Gi’anya, who has curled up on her side facing away from him. Between the two of them lie their queues, which is uninteresting and unavoidable. Na’vi queues in close quarters were unable to activate on their own; the desire for Tsaheylu had to be mutual, and not to mention, in a waking moment. Forcing a bond on someone or accidentally creating one by standing too close was impossible. With that in mind, what Kiri witnesses, she is sure is a dream.

A faint, purplish glow illuminates the ends of the long, braided queues as the inner tendrils snake outward. Slowly, they advance towards the other, so slow that Kiri wonders if she should do something. She is overcome by a contradicting swarm of thoughts. Part of her is awestruck by the impossibility, and another part of her selfishly wants to let the bond happen. Maybe Eywa has grown sick of their back and forth, Kiri thinks, and has decided to push them together herself. Then there is another, smaller part of her that told her to pull them away, but she disregards it. This was a sign if she had ever seen one. Kiri watches unblinking as the first few of Neteyam’s tendrils brush hers…

Suddenly, Kiri’s brother lets out a soft huff. He turns his head to the left, and after a second, the rest of his body follows. His braided queue has been thrown across his chest, so when he turns to his side, it pulls away with him. The queues were no longer close. Their glows fade as they relax. Neither of them stir.

Kiri stays upright in disbelief. What she just saw… Had their queues connected in time to solidify a bond, or could the smallest contact have left the hint of one? Was she meant to tell the two? What an awkward conversation that would be. Or had she woken in time for Eywa to tell her the matchmaking was not in vain? 

With that, Kiri reassumes her spot on the grassy forest floor, torn on what the right thing to do is. If it was not meant to be, would it have happened regardless? A mistake in their proximity? No…It was meant to be. It had to be. 

• • • • •

A/N: trying to introduce other character perspectives. Also did not proofread this well enough cause I'm lazy. But here it is!! lmk if you want to be tagged in future parts

@jackiehollanderr

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 7

Made to Watch – OC Medic & TBB

Warnings: Get yuh whump here! Fresh, violent whump! Explicit details of torture and physical injuries, blood and minor gore, broken bones, near death, language.

WC: 2795

“I’m beginning to think… going on missions a-alone with you… is a bad i… idea… think-think we’re c… cursed.” The strangled words broke on stuttered gasps, wincing as my diaphragm jerked in a desperate attempt for breath, sending daggers burring through my ribs. Hunter kneeled a mere handful of meters beside me, chained to the floor in clear view of where I hung, metal shackles bound so high above my head, I had to stretch onto my toes to offer some relief to already bleeding wrists.

“I’ll get you out of here, Doc.” He promised, and my heart ached at the guilt and sorrow in his voice.

“Hmm…” I grumbled, eyes sliding shut beneath a listless frown, “…nose itches.” When he didn’t respond, I cracked an eye to just peak down at him, brow raising expectantly. The shock on his face was worth the fresh hurt that shot through my side from the huffed chuckle, and he offered an exasperated sigh, lips just twitching into a weary smile.

The base was supposed to be abandoned. We’d only been sent in to preform a final sweep for abandoned tech or data, maybe take out the occasional forgotten droid. The unexpected subterranean weapons cache and full garrison of mechanical and biological soldiers guarding it had taken us all by surprise. By the time we realized what we’d stumbled into, however, we’d already split into three groups, and the number of guns aimed at the two of us forced us to submit, relieved only in the knowledge that the other four were still free.

The chagrian in charge of our interrogation assumed I’d be the weak link and spent the following hour trying to manipulate Hunter into revealing our squadmate’s location by sicking a B2 battle droid on me. The sound of ribs cracking beneath that metal fist kept echoing in my mind, but I held my tongue, and so did he, needing only a shared look to ensure I hadn’t reached my breaking point until they finally left.

“Think they’ll… opt f-for strealth?” I mumbled absently, eyes sliding shut once more, “Or… just sho-shoot their way i-in?”

“I think you need to stop trying to talk.” He replied bluntly, but the concern in his words was clear. I mockingly mouthed his words in silence, lips twisted in a slight scowl, earning a quiet growl from the man beside me. “Might be a bit of both.” He finally sighed, entertaining my wonderings, “Try for stealth until that doesn’t work, then we’ll be lucky if there’s enough leftover of the base to still get any intel from.” Without bothering to look at him again, I merely gave a small grin. Even without their leader, those four were a terrifying force to be faced with. If not for the knowledge that they were already working towards our rescue, I may have broken long ago, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they reached us.

-

The violent clang of metal slamming against metal ripped me back to full, agonizing awareness, eyes opening as wide as the swollen flesh would allow as my mind struggled to make sense of the hurt and darkness and cold, body trembling as abused muscles quivered and failed, sending the shackles digging deeper into the ruined skin around my wrists. The hatred burning through Hunter’s eyes was the first thing I saw before following his gaze to the smug, sooty-blue face of the chagrian. Flaking smears of blood still stained the fists of the droid following obediently at his heels. Scowling against the pulsing torture bursting up my side with each shallow breath, I forced myself to stand upright before him.

“I do hope you’ve found your stay enjoyable thus far, for I fear what comforts we’ve allotted you have, unfortunately, expired.” He nearly cooed, overly pleased with himself. “You see: my immediate supervisor has decided that giving up whatever comprises the remainder of your… squad… will no longer be sufficient given your lack of cooperation. Now, I must insist you share with us the access code to Republican military communication frequencies.” A scoff barked from what mockery of a smile I managed to pull split, swollen lips into.

“Very well.” The Separatist sneered and turned his attention to Hunter as the towering machine stalked toward me. “And you? Just a couple words, and you could save your friend here from any additional… unpleasantries.” The Sergeant didn’t move beyond the ebb and flow of heavy breaths, knuckles gleaming from where his hands pulled uselessly at his restraints.

There was no preceding warning before the droid rammed its fist directly into the epicenter of agony bursting through my side with each shallow breath. The air fled me in a barked cry, stomach churning at the crunch of bone. My feet scraped vainly atop the stone floor, body panicked between the sharp hurt tearing through my wrists, the terrible wrongness of ribs grinding at each trembled shutter of muscle, and the fire of lungs screaming for air.

Twice more the droid struck me, the first wrapping around to hit my kidney before it swung its leg up to crack against the side of my thigh. I couldn’t even try to relieve the weight from my hands, torso seizing amidst panicking nerves, abs convulsing in some desperate fight to guard the too exposed flesh, head hanging limp to my chest as my mind raced to make sense of the wrongwrongwrong.

“Shall we try this again?” I barely heard the haughty words, belatedly managing to lift my gaze just enough to find Hunter. The entirely of his attention was locked on me, and I could see fear in those eyes. I wasn’t a clone. I wasn’t trained for this. He couldn’t anticipate my limits, and I saw the dread of that unknown, but I also knew he wouldn’t cave. I knew how it would kill him to put me through the coming torture, but still, he wouldn’t cave. So, I took that choice away from him.

“…don’t… d-don’t you dare….” The shattered words only just escaped on fluttering gasps, almost too quiet even for my own ears to catch, but he heard me. I was certain he heard me. “I can… I…” My diaphragm seized, body wilting beneath each desperate attempt to force air into my lungs. Unfazed, the droid drove its fist into my stomach once more, slamming my back against the durasteel bricks behind me. Chest convulsing in a futile plea for breath, I struggled to exist beyond the burning suffocation, the relentless sensation of warmth slipping down my arms and chin, the sharp taste of iron… Even as darkness threatened the edges of my vision, loathing the way the room spun and stretched out before me, I sought those umber eyes, intent on willing the words I hadn’t managed to say into the look shared between us.

When that metal fist stuck my jaw, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than just keep my eyes open, blindly staring into the swirling shadows. I think Hunter was shouting - vaguely recognized curses that would have made Crosshair smirk. Wait… Hunter shouldn’t be saying anything at all… I vaguely remembered that little tidbit – it’s easier to keep from giving in during an interrogation if you keep perfectly silent. Even shouting insults opens the potential to accidentally yield. Hunter wouldn’t be that sloppy… He was shouting for a reason. My lips twisted into a grin, the faintest wheeze just managing to grind down my throat. His brothers were close.

My vision went white, mind replaying the deafening, wet thud over and over before finally registering the pain swelling into a dense ball near my left eye. Ringing. Spinning.

“Tell me the codes.” Pressure… my thigh… locking around where that damn droid kicked me. I vaguely felt my body jerk, but that hold only tightened. A choked whimper caught in my throat. Tighter. “The codes.” My other leg dragged against the floor. Tighter.

“You kriffing coward! I’m the one with the karking codes! Let them go!” Panic drew me back from the fringes of unconsciousness. Run. Run. Run. Couldn’t see, wide eyes blinded by the hurt and fear as my body strained against that relentless grip. Tighter. Already broken gasps grew frantic, escaping in fleeting grunts of pain. Every cell screamed at me to do something, limbs lashing out for anything that might grant me some hope of escape, writhing violently.

I didn’t hear the raw cry tear from my throat. I barely even felt the molten heat shooting up the limb in rhythmic bursts. It was the sound that consumed me. That deafening crunch. It reverberated through my body on repeat. Again. And again. And again. Marking a lapse in time, some terrible disconnect between my mind and reality.

Muted. From across some great distance, I felt the concussion of an explosive, saw the door blow inward several feet as the pale blue chagrian spun around with terror in his eyes; heard the whir of gears as the B2 crumbled beneath a volley of blasterfire just as it began to turn.

“I’m fine, dammit! Help Doc!” The fury in Hunter’s shouted words drew my gaze lazily toward him, body falling, sinking, fading…

“…-ake. Come on, Doc; need you to stay with us.” Something cool… my cheek… I think someone was touching me. I tried to find them; vaguely certain I was able to make out the deep concern in Echo’s pale face seconds before a pressure send sharp pain pouring through my side. I was barely able to flinch, some choked huff of a whimper fleeing me in staggered gasps.

“-ribs, and I presume that femur as well.” That meticulous, calculating tone was a strange comfort despite my inability to gather enough strength to search for the brilliant pilot amidst the distorted shadows. “I’ll need to split the leg before we can retreat.”

“Where’s Wrecker?” Hunter… I felt myself fading, existing only in the echo of their rushed voices.

“Clearing a path to the surface for us.” The arc answered. I think he moved away from me, vaguely aware that I couldn’t feel the ever-present chill of his hand against my cheek anymore. A moan caught in my throat as something shifted ever so gently against my thigh, but, when that touch suddenly constricted, locking the limb straight with a merciless swiftness, I could make no sound beyond the faintest wheeze, muscles seizing throughout my body before finally collapsing into weak, shallow sobs.

“Okay, we can open these restraints, now.” Tech stated, voice stiff. I didn’t see who retrieved the key from the chagrian’s corpse, couldn’t remember even seeing how the man had died, but, when that sharp metal pulled away from the broken flesh, it rekindled a hurt nearly forgotten amidst the overwhelming agony of my leg, my ribs, the throbbing heat of my face…

Sporadic fits left my arms twitching as someone carefully guided them down to my sides, and my back arched against the hurt grinding through my shoulders. I couldn’t keep track of each touch, barely aware of several hands supporting me until I lay trembling on the stone floor.

“There is little we can do for their ribs without the proper equipment.” Tech warned, words floating meaninglessly overhead.

“If we move them like this…” Hunter started to argue.

“Better than staying here.” Cross… I hadn’t realized he was with them until hearing the reluctance in his voice.

“Alright… Echo, keep that leg stable.” Something shuffled beside me.

“Doc? Hey-hey; come on back.” Something brushed gently through my hair, dragging my attention reluctantly into some tattered facsimile of focus. “Gotta get you out of here.” Hunter… I was certain the blurred figure looming over me was Hunter. “I know it hurts, but I need you to try to stay awake, okay?” Words… what was he saying? The tender movement against my scalp was a blissful comfort when everything else hurt so much. That touch slipped down the back of my head, my neck until his arm eased itself beneath my shoulders, wrenching a small gasp of pain from me as the movement shifted my side.

“I know… I know, but we have to move.” He murmured, easing me further up against his chest. My hand darted out, fingers clawing weakly at the sleek fabric of his blacks, unable to gather enough strength to do more than tremble against him, broken whimpers catching on faltering breaths. His other hand slipped beneath my knees, and I turned into him, face hiding against his neck at the realization of what was happening.

My throat closed around the beginnings of a scream as he stood, Echo’s hand carefully steadying my leg with a firm grip just above my knee. In the same motion, Hunter leaned back, letting my weight rest atop his chest more so that in his arms. What sliver of relief it granted from easing the pressure away from that ruined thigh barely registered, body revolting against still panicking nerves and the agony that position sowed through my ribs.

He didn’t wait for me to settle, gait smooth despite the speed of his movements. Through some distorted mockery of consciousness, I saw Crosshair running beside us, rifle strangely mute even as bloom of fire shot from the long barrel. Couldn’t breathe. Tech fell in behind us, while Echo moved to take point. Some whisper of logic told me I should be afraid. The massive silhouette of Wrecker loomed ahead of us, arms swinging to direct us through the maze of hallways. I felt my chest try to move but couldn’t draw even a whisper of air into lungs crushed beneath uncooperative ribs, and I knew I should be afraid. Hunter’s gait faltered, and I thought for a moment I heard my name.

Something warm whispered over my face. Sunlight. He was screaming. I could feel the vibrations in his chest. My side didn’t hurt as badly anymore; my leg barely a distant annoyance as I eased into the comfort of his strength, the subtle earthiness of his scent. If I focused, I could just feel the thudding of his heart. It was quick, but it was familiar. I just had to focus on that… Not the chorus of panicked shouting, nor that lingering sense that something was terribly wrong… just listen to that gentle th-thud…th-thud…

-

“Doc?” I didn’t want to answer him, didn’t want to fight the terrible heaviness of my eyelids, but I couldn’t stand the depth of worry in that voice. I couldn’t convince my left eye to move, but I just managed to crack the right, frowning weakly at the blurred colors and gleaming lights. Almost instantly, that light dimmed, and a tiny sigh of relief fluttered over swollen lips. Slowly, I noted the short-kept mess of silver curls… couldn’t make out anything more, but I didn’t need to.

“C… Cr”

“Shh.” Hearing that gentle hush in his raspy voice was nearly enough to ease me back into a blessed sleep. I didn’t want to sleep yet. I wanted to rid him of that worry, but it took every fleeting whisper of strength I had to keep that eye from slipping closed once more. “You took a pretty bad beating. Do you remember what happened?” I thought over his words for a long while, chasing flitting thoughts in some futile hunt to answer him. My head just shifted in a nod. I remembered the hidden base, being captured with Hunter… the droid. Brows pulling together in a weak cringe at the very memory of it, I had to fight not to let my attention wander to those injuries, vainly straining against the urge to tense even a single muscle to test the validity of that fear.

“Yeah.” He sighed. Something moved between us, paused in a moment of hesitation before finally reaching forward. The tenderness of his touch, fingertips only just whispering atop my hair nearly ruined me, shuttered breath escaping me as my eye closed in contentment. Encouraged, he carefully let his palm rest against me, thumb sweeping slowly against the balmy skin of my forehead.

“We’ll be back at Kamino soon.” He murmured before letting some of that familiar venom return to his voice. “You’re supposed to be our medic. Not much good to us if you keep trying to get yourself killed.” I could feel myself beginning to fade, but managed to look for him once more, just finding that brilliant flush of amber, and he stilled beneath my gaze. I wanted to tell him that I’d suffer through this and so much more if it meant keeping them safe, but the thought barely whispered through my mind before falling back into the emptiness of sleep.

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