#so uh. yeah!! written content soon

[chestharrington]

Girls On Film || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve's absentee parents gift him a camcorder for graduation. What better way to find out how it works than making a sex tape?

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut (f!receiving oral, handjob, p in v sex ft. girl on top), sex on camera, filming a sex tape, lovey-dovey adorable dorks in love

Word Count: 3.7k

Your heart soared with pride as Steve walked off the football field towards you, wearing a goofy-looking gown and graduation cap. As soon as he reached you, he lifted you up and gave you a tiny spin, smiling ear to ear. 

“You’re looking at a college grad,” he said with a smug smile after he put you down. You beamed at him as he lifted his hand and showed off the shiny gold class ring. “I’m never taking this thing off.”

You grinned, tugging at the graduation gown. “What about this thing? You willing to take this off for me?” You smiled wryly and pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

A throat cleared behind you both and you turned, looking at the party and Robin standing with various levels of disgust evident on their faces. 

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Keep it in your pants, please. Or, I guess keep it in your large, nylon zippy robe.” She squeezed between you and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Steve.”

Dustin stepped forward next and gave Steve a big hug— he’d hit a growth spurt since you last saw him and was nearly as tall as Steve. Lucas, Will, and Mike all offered their congratulations combined with complaints about how boring the ceremony was after they got through the H last names. 

Max crossed her arms as El wheeled her over, trying her best to be nonchalant. “I can’t see you, but I know you look dumb in that stupid hat.” Steve gave a fake laugh, took the hat from his head, and placed it on hers. “Ew, it’s all sweaty, you jerk.” She smiled despite herself and held the hat against her chest.

Steve wrinkled his nose in a way that told you he was trying his best not to cry. You knew it meant a lot to him that they’d shown up. 

“Why don’t we all go for lunch?” You suggested. “My treat.” Not wanting the reunion to end, and not wanting to turn down a free lunch, everyone piled into their cars and headed to Steve’s favorite place.

When you and Steve got into his car, you were greeted by the shrill sound of his car phone ringing. With a furrowed brow, he reached over and retrieved the bulky device from its bag and answered. Even from across the car, you could hear the tinny noise of his mother speaking on the phone. 

“Yeah, the ceremony is over,” he said, jaw ticking. “I sent you both the invitation two months ago.” He looked over with an exasperated look, so you grabbed his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “Well, we’re all going to lunch if you can make it.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Despite their apparent lack of care, you knew that he valued their approval and time.

“Oh. Right, I understand.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I appreciate it. Okay. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They, uh, they got double booked. They’re in Buffalo for a conference right now.”

Your gaze softened at the sight of his disappointed expression. “I know they’re proud of you, Steve.” He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. You pulled the hand intertwined with yours up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

————

When you arrived at your shared condo, you were greeted by a gift-wrapped box on the porch. You had to help him carry it in through the door, huffing as you both dropped it onto your coffee table. 

Steve shrugged off the graduation gown he was wearing and kneeled to unwrap the present. A large card taped to the top revealed the senders, as if that were in question. 

“To our firstborn son— congratulations! Love, Mr and Mrs Harrington.” The emotionless text almost made you grimace. You’d never read something more blatantly written by a personal assistant in your life. 

“Jesus,” he muttered as he tore away the wrapping to reveal the gift. “This thing must’ve cost a fortune.” You glanced over as he held up a plastic case and found nothing that might have revealed its contents. 

“What is it?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and leaning in close. He popped open the case and held up a hulking piece of machinery. 

“It’s a camcorder,” he said with a grin. “It’s the best one on the market.”

You raised your eyebrows and tried not to ask what he even needed one of those for. Video cameras were for new parents and aspiring filmmakers, not college grads.

Your own gift felt tiny in comparison, even though you’d been saving for a few months to afford it. Between rent for you and Steve’s condo, groceries, and gas for your cars, it wasn’t easy to have expendable cash to buy nice gifts with. 

You stayed quiet as Steve marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder. 

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged. 

“Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. “For now… I have a gift for you.”

He sat up, wearing a grin. “Is it lingerie? Is it dinner at The Olive Garden? Is it a bubble bath?” He leaned in and nipped at your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, tell me—“

You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “Steveeee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees. 

You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into your shared bedroom. 

Hidden away in your bedside table was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Steve would like the box. 

Steve was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him. 

“It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.”

He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box.

It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“ 

 He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down. And one year I got Yankees tickets behind the plate for my birthday.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him. 

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box. 

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped. 

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing. 

Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring. 

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with. 

“That’s—“

He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

In lieu of a verbal response, you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist. 

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Steve. I wanna marry you.”

———

Steve forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Robin’s hotel and let her know, and then she spilled the news to the party, and suddenly it felt like everyone from Hawkins was in the tiny condo. 

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Steve were left alone in a quiet house. 

“So… the future Mrs. Steve Harrington…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Steve holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine. 

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Steve groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers. 

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement. 

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up. 

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Steve, what are you— oh!” 

Without hesitation, Steve buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you. 

“Fuck, Steve—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.” 

His brown eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans. 

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste. 

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely. 

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin. 

Steve simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Steve moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction. 

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses. 

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Steve was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Steve took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Steve groaned at the sight. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip. 

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge. 

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Steve?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him. 

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Harrington Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance. 

“Steve.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Steve.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves. 

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts. 

“Steve,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “St-Steve, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips. 

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears. 

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger. 

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“ 

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work. 

It does.

[answer2jeff]

' treat me tonight '

a/n: this is (debatably) some of the best smut i've ever written but i'm still new to the field ! give ya girl some suggestions if desired.

song : i know we could be so happy baby.

warnings : fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot. not proofread

word count: 2.6k+

MDNI : i am not responsible for your media consumption.

NSFW under the cut — last warning!

"Try it," Carmen cupped your jaw as he lifted the wooden spoonful of creamy, tomato soup to your mouth, thumbing your bottom lip gently so you could carefully swallow every last bit. He enjoyed feeding you, if he was being totally honest. Even if this had been upon your request. Making his girl happy with what he did best was nothing short of a blessing to him.

"Mmm," you hummed in amusement, swallowing before smiling contently and nodding your head. "'S great, Carmy. Fuckin' delicious."

Long days at work dealing with insensitive clientele and immature coworkers seemed to be so easily remedied by Carmen's cooking. You weren't sure if it was because it was him catering to you and loving you the one way he always knew how, or if the food was just that fucking amazing. Maybe a little bit if both.

"Yeah? Alright," he chuckled a bit, grabbing the ladle beside the pot and scooping the simple, yet beautifully crafted tomato soup into a ceramic bowl. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it, despite him asking you if you enjoyed it every. single. time.

You accepted the bowl with a sickly sweet smile on your face, giving Carmen a kiss on his clean shaven cheek to thank him for his gesture before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter. Carmen just stood with his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the dining table, candidly watching you enjoy the warm bowl of soup

"So," you slurped some of the soup as you paused, "I'm thinkin' of giving Syd that top we found the other day."

Thrifting had become of recent liking to you anD Carmen. Just shopping and mooching around Chicago in search of vintage pieces. Mostly to actually wear, but partly to collect or regift to fellow friends. Last time you two had a day off, you found a beautiful vintage button down. A white base with downward blue stripes with a finely stitched breast pocket containing a 'V' pattern. The cuffs were cinched perfectly. It was a little baggy, too, which you knew Sydney would love.

"Ooh, yeah. I, uh, I really liked that. I think she'd really love it," Carmen nodded, "You gonna get 'er somethin' else with it? Like, to pair with it? Or just the shirt?"

"I was gonna ask you to help me with that, actually," you pointed a finger to Carmen, turning away for just a moment to gently place the empty bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink.

Carmen always thought you had a good eye for other people's tastes. Not just in fashion. The world seemed unpredictable to Carmy. But you made it look so easy, so loving to just know what people wanted. He always wished he had that kind of understanding for people. But for now, he'd admire such a trait you had.

"Hm?"

"I remember she mentioned something about having all these cool tops n' jackets and such, but, like—hardly any nice pants other than those fuckin' jeans she loves."

"Mhm," he stepped closer to you and planted his hands on your shoulders. But you soon reached for them and planted them on your hips, earning a little upward curl of his lip.

"I know you loved those nice jeans like they were your babies 'till you had to sell them," you frowned, entangling your fingers in his messy, blonde curls while your other hand rested on the back of his neck.

"Fuck, I know. Really wish I didn't have to," he tried to let out a breathy laugh to compensate for the genuine disappointment.

Fuck, did he love those pants. Pants were the one piece of fashion Carmen didn't have to second guess himself on. From jeans to slacks, he knew how to pair every possible fabric. And he never knew how to flatter the upper half of his body, so he always wore those dammed white t-shirts.

Not that you were complaining.

Especially right now, the t-shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and exposing his thick arms plastered with sentimental tattoos you always loved. You began to run your hands up and down the exposed skin. He glanced down at your patterned touch, flattered.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway, I need you to help me look for a nice pair of jeans for Sydney. Can y'do that for me, hun?"

Carmen nodded rapidly, his eyes drifting from your lips and back into your eyes. His thumbs rubbed intricate little circles of adoration into your thighs.

"Yeah, baby," he smiled. "This weekend, maybe? I can take a couple hours," tilting his head, he held your chin to pull your face just inches away from his own. Something about your tendencies to make the ones you loved happy with little surprises just warmed him.

"Mhm. That works," you sighed, planting a soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Carmens immediate suggestion just struck something in you. Months ago, he would've thrown excuse after excuse (although valid) as to when he couldn't be available, but never when he could. You felt proud of him.

"You're so good to me, Carmen."

"Yeah?"

He was learning. He was loving.

"Mhm," you barred your bottom lip behind your teeth, giving Carmen's arms a squeeze. He exhaled sharply and wondered where this could've been going.

You drove him a little crazier than he ever liked to admit. A delicate hand reached away from your hip and up to your face. He thumbed your bottom lip, the reflection of the kitchen light shining against your mouth that was glossy with a mix of both of your salivas. Carmen gazed at you in awe, a little embarrassed when he realized how long he'd been staring.

"I—" he shrugged, struggling to find the words, "I'd do it all for you, baby."

Whispering back as he began to cave in, he leaned into your neck and placing an opened mouth kiss on the skin. The smell of your perfume and the natural scent of your body was so familiar to him. It distracted him enough to let his hands roam up and down your torso before repeating that same motion on your thighs.

"Want you t.." you swallowed, your eyes shutting harshly when when he sucked a bruising hickey onto your skin.

"Want me to what, sweet girl?" Carmen mumbled, the butterflies in your stomach raging when his teeth grazed against the spot. You gently anchored your hand into his hair and pulled him away from your neck so you could see him again.

"Want you to treat me tonight," you whispered as your hands travled up to his shoulders.

He wished you could be more specific. But with your pretty eyes, your kiss-swollen lips, your thighs spread against the cold marble counter as they spilled out of your cotton shorts, how could he tease you any longer?

"That I can do."

—

Carmens body seemed to loosen up and relax as his rough hand slid down lower on your back to grab at the waistband of your shorts. You practically melted to his touch. He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss once he slid your shorts down to your ankles. You nodded when he pulled away, ensuring him that he was on the right track.

"Need you t'spread, baby," his hand pried between your soft thighs.

"O—okay," You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly spread your legs apart. The wet spot of arousal in the middle of your panties was completely in view now. Feeling Carmen's eyes drifting downward, you accidentally drew your knees closer together again.

"Hey," Carmen whispered while he looked into your eyes for an answer, despite your gaze being glued to the floor.

"You okay? We don't have to do thi—"

"No, no," you shook your head, "I want to. Just..not used to it. That's all."

It was true. You'd only tried oral about twice. And it went great, you couldn't deny. But you still struggled to literally open yourself up to him. You just needed a little encouragement.

"You don't have to hide, baby. You look—you are beautiful," he kissed your forehead, "so, so beautiful. Okay?"

Finally feeling some reassurance, you tried again. You spread your legs once again and let Carmen peel your soaked panties down your legs to where your shorts had been. He gave you one last look to see if you were ready, to which you happily nodded.

In the sweetest gesture, Carmen removed his own t-shirt so you wouldn't be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them somewhere near the dining table, being left in just his boxers that outlined his slowly hardening cock.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

"Of course."

Carmen began trailing kisses from your neck down to your shoulder blade. His hands gently lifted your tank top over your head before cupping one of your breasts, his fingertips playing with your hard nipple as he kissed you one last time. He sank down to his knees, hooking your calves over his shoulders. You scooted a little closer to the edge of the counter to give him the best access to your throbbing cunt.

"Yep. Right here, baby."

He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You finally looked down at him after avoiding direct eye contact for the past few minutes. His blue eyes fully encapsulated you. He looked gorgeous between your thighs. Especially when he sucked little hickeys that wouldn't actually last against your inner thighs that made you squirm.

"You look pretty like this, bear," your hand reached to brush a loose curl out of his face. The flush that colored his pale cheeks was cute.

"You think so?" Carmen grinned. He relished in the feeling of having such gentle yet everlasting control. In his own kitchen, his beautiful girl in his hands, her thighs around his head, fully willing and wanting to let him take every part of her he could ever imagine.

You were nothing short of perfect to him.

Not wanting to waste any more time, and without preamble, he licked a bold stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. Your breath hitched in your throat when his grip on your thighs tightened. He started to create a sense of rhythm, roughly sucking on the sensitive mound of nerve endings before soothing it with kitten licks and flat-tongued strides.

Your hand tugged at a handful of his curls. He groaned at the sensation, swirling his tongue around you to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.

"Fuck, Carmy..."

"You got the prettiest pussy, baby. So good and wet for me," he mumbled against you, his eyes still remaining closed. He needed to focus, or else he might fall apart at the sight of pure, filthy pleasure on your pretty face.

"Shut up—" you protested.

Your thighs began to shake as your head reeled back. Carmen hesitated for a moment, wiggling his fingers around anxiously before pulling his mouth away from your vulva and ever so carefully slipping in 2 large fingers.

A long, drawn out moan escaped your mouth the moment he curled his fingers upward into your g-spot. The idea of staying quiet was out of the fucking question. Oh, and now that Carmen's tongue was back on you? Forget it.

"Oh my fucking g—fuck!" you smacked your hand over your mouth, your other hand still entangled in your lovers hair. Pulling and tugging and earning the sexiest groans you'd ever heard in your life.

The sound of your voice slowly raising in pitch was enough for Carmen to change his pace. He inched himself even closer, and at an otherworldly speed flicked his tongue repeatedly against your clit. Over. And over. And over again. But his fingers slowed down to avoid overstimulating you. He needed this to last. Blissfully.

The knot in your stomach that indicated your teeter against your orgasm taunted you.

"Carm, I'm—" you took a short breath moaning incohereant babbles along the lines of 'so fuckin' good, just like that, baby' until you blurted, "I'm probably not gonna last any longer..'S too much."

You'd grown so desperate to cum that your hips ground back and forth, the tip of Carmens tongue perfectly brushing against your sensitive clit while he used the hand that was once fucking you to squeeze the fat of your breast. With his other hand, he reached down to palm his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled his erection out from the cloth and stroked himself slowly, the final moan of "fuck," shortly followed by your name before he harshly sucked on your clit once more, was enough to throw you over the edge.

"Oh, fuck, Carmy!"

After the last couple minutes of him practically making out with your pussy, your body finally allowed itself to release, your legs shaking vigourisly as you tried desparately to catch your breath. You could literally feel a pulse-like sensation on your clit from the orgasm.

It was dirty, filthy; cumming on Carmen's pretty face right on top of his kitchen counter.

But fuck, was it hot.

—

"You think you got another one left in there for me, baby?" Carmen cooed, wrapping your legs around his hips and drawing you in so close that your breasts were pressed against his bare chest. He peppered kisses along your jaw until he resided on your lips, his tongue slipping in to create a sloppy, passionate mess of a kiss.

His clothed hard-on pressed against your clit, which was nearly fully recovered, lacking the overwhelming sensitivity it had just a couple minutes ago.

"Maybe you should find out," you teased against his ear, nipping at the skin of his neck right underneath. You gently pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up just the slightest bit so you could slip his pre-cum soaked boxers with ease.

Without another thought, Carmen carefully lined himself up with your pussy. The head of his dick passed between your folds to build anticipation. Your hands gripped his shoulders, slippery with sweat, once he finally began to push his raw cock into your hole, your arousal serving as a perfect lubricant.

"Fuck," he rasped as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy in awe "so fuckin' tight for me. So pretty n' perfect."

The two of you hardly waited to allow every thrust and slap of skin against skin get messy and rough. With Carmen desperately needing to cum and you anxiously needing to feel him inside of you, there wasn't much consideration for a slow fuck.

"Fuck me, Carmen."

With that, Carmen dug his hands into your hips and pulled several inches out of you before slamming back in. You somehow moaned louder every time. His face contorted to pure, ravenous pleasure and lust as moan and groan after groan writhed from his throat. Your nails clawed at his back, earning a "shit," and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you ground back and forth against him to achieve the perfect thrusting angle.

"I love you," he whimpered, fucking whimpered his adoration for you. He was completely pussy drunk, his thrusts turning fast and short unlike they were when they started out.

Those words made your heart pound in your head. Sure, you'd exchanged 'I love you's' during the last year or so of your relationship, but you couldn't recall a time it was said during rough-kitchen-counter-sex.

"I love you so fuckin' much, Carm," you sobbed in a fit of utter horniness and overwhelming sense of pleasure, feeling Carmen's thick cock and squeezing your warm, gummy walls around him.

"I'm gonna cum, angel, I—"

"I know, baby. Go ahead. W-want you to fill me up."

Almost as if the universe had been working specifically in your favor, you managed to reach your orgasm just seconds before he did. Every drop of your arousal went down his thigh, while his cum perfectly filled up your cunt. He pulled out slowly watching the white and sticky semen drip down your hole.

"Was that your idea of me 'treating you' tonight?"

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 13 || The Unexpected

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, sexual tension, & smut.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOU RUSH OUT OF THE building completely flustered with an embarrassed expression written all over your face.

Perhaps after dealing with men who so easily compliment you and fell for your flirtatious traps you'd grown accustomed to not being turned down. Getting dismissed by a man like Toji Fushiguro isn't exactly something you planned for.

It won't stop you from showing up next week and trying again but it will leave you embarrassed and shamefully horny.

You strolled down the campus pathway, heading toward where your car was with your head stuck on what had just happened. The man seriously just told you to get out. You thought you had managed to seduce him at least a little but now you guess you were wrong.

So distracted with your thoughts of what just happened, you nearly miss as a familiar voice calls your name. Your lashes flutter as you blink a few times and look around the area to spot the man who'd called your name.

Your brows push together when you don't see anyone. Okay, now you're hearing things-

"Right here, gorgeous." Geto suddenly whispers into your left ear.

The sudden sound makes you jump and you move your hand to smack his chest for scaring you. He chuckles at your reaction and you give him an annoyed scowl.

"Suguru, don't scare me like that!" You huff.

Geto snickers at you, "Sorry."

A pout takes over your expression and the sight furthers his amusement.

"You're so cute," He hums, raising a hand to pinch your cheek. You immediately smack him off. "Oh c'mon, don't be like that. You didn't even send me a text after our date... How do you think that makes me feel?" He says with a sudden frown.

You blink. "Uh..."

"That's not nice, y'know. Leaving me all high and dry." Geto continues as he shakes his head at you.

"I just thought..." You trail off for a second and the man leans toward your face suddenly.

The words you were going to say fall off your tongue completely as Geto abruptly begins to study your facial expression.

"You alright?" He asks.

You try leaning away, "Yes, why?"

"You look..." His eyes narrow, "I dunno, horny?"

"H-Huh?" Your heartbeat spikes in alarm. If he can tell, does that mean Mr. Fushiguro was able to see that as well? "How the hell can you notice something like that?!" You question the man.

"Darling, I spent an entire night seeing you with that exact same facial expression. I don't think I'll be forgetting it anytime soon." Geto reminds you.

You grit your teeth slightly, "Is it... Is it that obvious?" You mumble.

The man in front of you grows surprised, eyebrows raising and a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "I mean, to me, yes. Though, I wasn't expecting you to admit it so truthfully."

You freeze. Shit, you just told on yourself. "Uh.."

"No need to try lying about it now." Get said with a shrug. He then stands straight up, "What-, actually, who got you all worked up?"

"Uhm..." Your eyes dart off to the side. Why the hell would you tell him anything-

"Was it Mr. Fushiguro?" Geto guesses. He was going based on the building you just left and who was likely to be in there.

Your eyes fly right back over to the man, "How the fuck-"

"Did you forget that I know about the list...?" He reminds you with a slight chuckle.

"You..." A sudden thought rushes to your mind. "Holy shit, you do, don't you?"

"Yeah, so-"

"Shouldn't I be pissed with you right now?" You ask as you remember that Gojo said Geto had videoed you the night of your date.

He scoffs. "What for?"

"Didn't you record me??" You question.

For a moment, Geto stares at you as if he's contemplating something. Then he swallows, "Uh, no."

"No?? But Gojo said-"

"He lied."

"He..." Your head cocks back in surprise, "He what?"

"He lied. I never recorded you." Geto says honestly.

You scowl at the male, "Bullshit."

"When would I have had time to do that?" He scoffs, "I could hardly think straight with the way you were sucking my-"

You move a hand over his mouth and look to your left and right. "Shut up," You snap at the man. "No need to put our business out there like that..."

Geto chuckles beneath your palm before lightly taking hold of your wrist and pulling your hand away. "My bad. But seriously, when would I have recorded you? And if you want," He moves to pull his phone out, "You can check my phone."

You stare up at him, glance down at his phone for a second, then look back up at him. "You could've sent it to Gojo and then deleted it from your phone." You point out.

"True but, I didn't," Geto says.

You fold your arms, "And how am I supposed to believe you?"

"What reason would I have to lie?"

"I don't know."

"And what good would blackmailing you do me? I'm not Satoru." Geto tells you.

He has a point, but you're still unsure if you want to trust him. "You're his best friend though."

"We're two different people. Completely opposite of each other." He hums.

"Okay..." You say, batting your eyelashes at him. "That doesn't prove anything or make me want to believe you any more."

"Alright," Geto sighs, "What if I offer you comfort?"

"Comfort...?"

"I can only imagine how alone you feel in your situation."

Fuck, he's right. You swallow, "I..."

"You can't tell Shoko because you feel embarrassed, can't talk to Satoru because you 'hate' him, and I'm not sure if you know anyone else that you'd comfortably want to talk to about this." Geto points out flawlessly.

You simply stare at the man with hardly any response to that. He's right, after all, you have been feeling ridiculously alone in your predicament.

"I obviously can't make you believe me about not recording you but, you can trust me." He claims.

You remain unconvinced, "How do I know you're not trying to manipulate me like Gojo?"

"Because if I was trying to manipulate you, I would've done it already."

"Uhuh, sure you would've."

"I'm serious. I only approached you today because I wanted to talk to you about this."

"Yeah right."

"I don't know what Satoru has going on in that head of his but even a blind man could see that what he's doing isn't right."

Your eyes suddenly light up, "Are you saying you're going to help me out of this?"

"No."

"But... you could if you wanted to," You say as you raise a brow, "Couldn't you?"

Of course he could. All Geto has to do is tell you the truth about the situation. "What makes you think that?" He asks.

"Suguru..." Your eyes narrow and you lean closer to him accusingly, "You know something that could get me out of this, don't you?"

"N-No." Geto stammers.

"Liar."

"Alright, let's say hypothetically I did... I wouldn't be able to help you out without fucking myself over."

You blink. "Huh, how?"

"Do you really think Satoru is going to be happy with me ruining his fucked up little plan?"

"Well, probably not... But you're his best friend!" You emphasize, "He'll forgive you."

"Perhaps." Geto hums, "But I don't think you realize, you're not the only one Satoru's willing to blackmail."

"...He'd blackmail you too?"

"Maybe. And if not, he'd probably go out and tell people things about me I never intended on sharing..."

"Kinda like how you're a dirty little pervert?" You blurt out teasingly.

The man halts for a second, then he snickers. "Yes... Like that."

"Speaking of which... Do you still have my panties?"

"I do," He smirks and moves as if he were about to pull something out of his pocket, "Want em' back?"

"Y-You don't just walk around with them, do you?"

He laughs at your facial expression, "No."

You sigh, "Thank god. A-And yes I want them back."

"Come over one day and take em' from me." Geto taunts.

"Not happening."

"That's what I thought," He chuckles. "Anyways, back to what I was saying, you can trust me. I can't help you out of your situation directly but maybe I can help you through it."

"Really? You'd do that?" You ask, smiling at him slightly.

He stares at your expression, "Sure."

"Wait... in exchange for what?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying." Geto sighs, "Here, I can even suggest something for you."

"What?"

"Satoru's paying you right?"

"...Yeah?"

"Ask him if he'll pay you for each time you sleep with someone," Geto suggests.

"You mean like," An eyebrow raises, "If I sleep with someone more than once?"

"Mhm." He hums.

"But why would I sleep with someone twice...?"

He shrugs innocently, "I mean, right now you're horny and I'm standing right here..."

"I..." You blink, "Suguru do you want to have sex again? Is that why you're trying to help me?"

"Okay, no. That's not why I want to help you, though the sex would be a nice bonus... I've been thinking about how you probably feel." Geto says. You can feel the genuine care in his voice but you're still wary of trusting him.

"So, what, you wanna be my therapist?" You reply with a playful scoff.

He chuckles, "You sound just like him, y'know."

"Don't compare me to that asshole."

"Sorry. But if that's what you wanna call me, sure. I can be your therapist." He shrugs. "Now," Geto moves to toss an arm over your shoulder and pull you close to his side. He then tips his head down to your ear, "Tell me what has you so aroused right now?"

Steadily, the two of you begin walking together.

You swallow, "You want the details...?"

"Sure, why not?" He responds rhetorically.

"Pervert."

"C'mon, what happened in that classroom?"

With a roll of your eyes, you give in, "The professor is fucking hot, that's what."

Geto scoffs, "Yet I'm the perv."

"You are."

"But... you're the one fantasizing about a teacher fucking you..."

"I-I wasn't..."

"Really?" He smirks, "You weren't thinking about getting on your knees and being like 'please sir, just the ti-"

Heat rushes to your face, "Stop it."

Geto starts laughing at you, "Shit, I'm right aren't I? That's one of your dirty little fantasies, isn't it?"

"It's not."

"You can be honest with me, I won't judge."

"...Okay, so what if it is..."

He pauses his words for a second. The man's eyes are all over the side of your face as you keep your gaze forward. "I personally think that's hot," Geto tells you.

"Of course you do." You chuckle.

"What do you mean of course??"

"Slut."

He frowns, "That's your second time calling me that."

"You like it."

He falls silent.

"See? Can't even say you don't."

Geto abruptly whispers your name into the crown of your ear, his voice lower than you expected it to be. "Careful now, darling."

You scoff, "Why?"

"Cause, you're turning me on."

You swallow. Your lower lip gets caught between your teeth at his sudden claim and you can't ignore the fact that your arousal has yet to go away.

"You uh... Do you think Gojo will actually pay me for sleeping with someone twice?" You question, slowly turning your head to look at the man.

Geto meets your eyes and both of you have the same exact thing in mind. The tension was so very obvious.

He didn't need to say anything and neither did you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

This was unexpected. You have no idea how you let yourself get in this position. Damn Geto and his way of convincing you to trust him.

Well, it's not a bad thing that you're trusting him. He made some very valid points, especially the one about him being the only one who knows about your situation and won't judge you for it.

Yet, none of that would've made you think you'd end up in the back seat of his car with his head in between your legs and his tongue deep in your cunt. Good god, the man eats you out like he'd be waiting to do so.

"Fuck Sugu," You breathed out.

The loud sounds of him sucking and slurping on your folds filled the car air. His tongue moved so sloppily over you, lapping up every drop of your wetness like there's no tomorrow.

It was all too much and too little at the same time.

"Tastes so fuckin' good," Geto groans, his voice vibrating against your clit and making your back arch off the seat slightly.

You've got your fingers tangled in that beautiful head of hair of his, unconsciously tugging at it every now and then. The way he'd wrap his lips around your sensitive bud has your lip quivering with moans pouring from your mouth.

Geto flicked his tongue over it and then shifted slightly to swirl the tip of his tongue around your clit. Those large hands over his were tightly gripping onto the underside of your thighs, keeping your legs spread no matter how much you squirmed beneath him.

He pulled his jaw back slightly and peeked up at you for a second before sticking his tongue out and pressing it flat against your wet cunt. Geto slides one of his hands up along your thigh while slurping your taste into his mouth.

Pulling away from your pussy with a loud pop, you hear him swallow. "You've gotta let me get these off you," Geto pleads, referring to the pretty lace stockings you had on.

"W-Why," You stammer as he moves to kiss over your sex.

"Mgh," He moans into you. "I n-need em'" Geto tells you, his voice desperate.

You were unaware but the man's cock was bulging against his pants and he'd been dry humping his car seat to get some kind of friction as he ate you out. You gasp as he moved to rub his thumb over your clit and his mouth focuses on your insides.

A breathy chuckle leaves you, "Need em' f-for what...?" You voice out in between a moan.

The man couldn't even respond to you as he needily worked to please you. Geto's tongue was buried so deep inside your pussy that you think you were starting to see stars. Along with his thumb, you felt his nose brush up against your clit as he pressed his face into your sex.

An arm draped over your mouth, "Y-You're makin' a mess... ngh, Sugu... hah..." You moaned out to the man.

You could feel the way he smiled at your words. The hand that's still on your thigh slides up and one of your stockings is suddenly stripped from you in an instant.

"Mmmgh... I know," He whispers. His face was so wet from you but he didn't care, simply shoving his tongue into your sopping hole regardless.

Confusion takes over your expression for a second but when Geto pulls away and spits on your cunt to further the sloppiness of it all, your brain fades to mush.

That one stocking of yours is soon used for the male to relieve himself. Another loud popping sound is heard as he pries his lips from you and lifts his head. His eyes are so low and lustful, his tongue hangs slightly out of his mouth, and the bottom of his face is coated in your slick.

Geto licks his lips, "Hah... I have class soon," He hums before sitting up.

Two of his fingers slot into you abruptly to make up for the lack of his mouth. "Hnngh... A-Ah, then why'd you w-want to..." Your words fade into a whine as he curls his digits up into your g-spot.

His other hand hastily works to free his cock from his clothes and you hazily watch him hold your stocking in his mouth for a second. After his dick is freed from restrictions, your cunt clenched around him at the sight of Geto using those stockings of yours to jerk off-- shamelessly moaning at the contact of the soft fabric to his shaft.

Your jaw drops at the sight, "You're so... f-fuckin' dirty," You say meanly, words going straight to the man's cock.

Geto tosses his head back, one hand working to please you and the other moving to relieve himself simultaneously. "F-Fuck, mgh... keep, shit, keep talkin' to me like that." He requests.

The fingers thrusting inside you increase in pace and you feel a thumb swat over your clit. "Ha-ah, you're so nasty Sugu..."

"Yeah?" He flashes a smile, "Fuck, 'm gonna cum if you keep degrading me like that."

"Mm-mmh... look at you, ngh-, getting off with my stocking..." Your eyes roll back a little, "So filthy-, fuck." You squeak out as your climax approaches.

"Agh," Geto groans, the jerking motion of his hand growing faster as his precum smears along his length.

The situation was so lewd-- Geto jerking off with a clothing item that'd just been wrapped around your leg for hours and his free hand eagerly fingering you as he did so. Your legs steadily drew together while the squelching sound of his two thick fingers plunging into you hit your ears.

It sounded so messy and sloppy. Your moaning and Geto's groaning were filling the car and fogging up his already tinted windows.

Your orgasm crashed over you when the male swiveled his digits around inside you. His eyes were on yours as you did so, large hand pumping his cock with vigor at the sight of you.

"Oh f-fuck," Geto moaned, his voice slightly pitched.

Your eyes were glossy as your orgasm died down but you clearly saw as the man slid his fingers out of you and brought them up to his mouth. You watch those pretty eyes of his rollback once your taste is on his tongue again and he groans against his fingers as he too reaches his peak.

Geto sucks your slick off his own fingers and cums hard into his hand and all over your stockings. The sight of his body shuddering slightly and a string of saliva connecting from his fingertips to his lower lip as he pulls his hand away from his mouth is something you drink in entirely.

You carefully shut your legs and innocently stare at the mess the man has made of himself. "You're gross..." You say teasingly.

"Hah," He pants slightly and glances over to you, "Am I?"

"You just came all over my stocking..." You say with a scoff, "Perv."

"S'that your new nickname for me or something?" Geto asks.

"Yeah, it is." You say with a sigh. After which you shut your eyes and grin, "Gojo better pay me for this or you're in trouble."

"I'm sure he will." He responds simply.

"If he doesn't..." You begin moving to sit up, "You'll owe me."

"Oh, so you're a full-time whore then?"

"N-No but... I need the money," You mumble.

Geto looks down at the nasty mess he's made of himself and chuckles, "I'll pay you if you come clean me up."

You blink, "Are you serious...?"

"Maybe."

You think about it for a second but when you look down at the pitiful sight of your cum covered stocking wrapped around his length, you frown.

"Nah, I'm good." You say simply.

Geto rolls his eyes, "You're no fun."

And with that, the two of you respectively begin to clean yourselves up. You ended up texting Gojo and asking him that question of yours. To which he responded with a bunch of follow-up questions regarding if you had just slept with his best friend again.

When you told him yes, he ended up leaving you on read and simply sending you more money. A smile had grown on your face when you realized that fact bothered him to the point where he couldn't even respond to you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Knowing that you could hook up with anyone on the list more than once and still get paid for it was something that oddly made you quite happy.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you did two things. First, you and Geto ended up talking more than you expected to. He'd give you decent advice on how to seduce Toji and you used every bit of it.

Secondly, you attended that one class and endured a private lesson every Monday while getting riskier and riskier with your flirting.

Each lesson ended relatively the same nonetheless, Toji would say that it's been enough time the very second you had this certain look in your eyes. He learned to steal himself for the way you look at him or the questions you may ask and ever since that one time, he's never allowed you to tempt him again.

You used every ounce of advice that Geto continuously gave you-- maintain your posture, give him bedroom eyes, respond in ways that make the man feel like he's in control, etc. Surprisingly, Geto's advice was really good.

You notice subtle changes every time you use his suggestions and you're pretty sure it was all working. Slowly but surely, Toji was growing closer and closer to crossing that line with you.

After that spontaneous hook-up you had with Geto, you found yourself doing it a few times actually. It was always random and sometimes you didn't even bother to ask Gojo for money because having a fuck buddy was kinda fun.

And no, you didn't forget about the walking green flag that is Choso Kamo. The two of you went from texting every few days and a few phone calls to texting every single day and multiple phone calls. Although you couldn't tell him about the list, you were growing very close to him in terms of friendship.

In your mind, you had Geto to rant to about the list and Choso to talk to about anything else. You had started to feel comfortable in your situation. Well, to a certain extent of course.

There was always this little voice in the back of your mind screaming every time you flirted with Mr. Fushiguro but aside from that, you were slowly getting more and more into this role of yours.

You still actively ignored Gojo unless it was about the list, Geto was a good fuck every now and then and he'd listen to you complain whenever you needed to, Choso was just this little ball of sunshine who you wanted to avoid hurting at all costs, and Toji was...

Okay well, the man was completely fine up until the fourth week of your lessons with him.

It was the first and only time you had arrived late. You missed the entire lecture and arrived at his classroom just as the man seemed to be packing up to leave.

Toji was standing at his desk grabbing a few things but he paused when you came rushing into his classroom. Your breathing was heavy, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to regain oxygen in your lungs.

Your eyes were noticeably low, your face flushed with emotions, and your top was noticeably undone. With your hands on your knees and your body hunched over slightly, you panted heavily to catch your breath.

"M-Mr. Fushiguro, I... hah, I'm sorry I'm l-late." You huffed out.

The man was quiet as he stared at you. Slowly, you stood straight up and began to fan yourself off.

"Fuck," You curse. "Sir it's so hot in here."

Toji blinked at the sight of you slightly sweaty and still out of breath. With a scoff and a light shake of his head, he turns and takes a seat at his desk. "Did you run here or somethin'?" He asks, voice deep and husk like always.

You nod your head, "Y-Yeah."

Was that entirely true? No, but, you weren't going to tell him that.

As you look at the older man you notice that his gaze is slowly trailing down your body. That little stockings and skirt combo is hugging your body again and you don't miss the way Toji oggles the sight of you.

As his gaze rises back up, it comes to a pause at your chest and he raises an eyebrow at you. You blink and look down at yourself, noticing you've got more buttons undone than intended to.

"Shit," You whisper while raising your hands to fix yourself, "Sorry Sir."

"You're fine." The man says. "Sure you still wanna' interview me today?" He asks.

You nod your head again and glance up to look at him as your fingers work against your shirt, "Yes. I know I came late but I'm here now."

Toji moves to rest his elbow on his desk, propping his arm up and resting his cheek against his knuckles. "Care to explain why you were late?" He questions.

You freeze. "U-Uhm."

How are you supposed to tell him that you were late because you were too busy sucking Geto off in his car and almost completely forgot about these lessons of yours?

"Uhm?" Toji mocks, raising an eyebrow.

"Traffic." You result in telling him before looking back down at your shirt.

You began to struggle with one of the buttons and it was starting to frustrate you, especially since you left Geto completely untouched and now you're all hot, horny, and frustrated.

Toji's eyes narrow in on the messy state of your shirt. You looked more disheveled than you realized. "Traffic, huh?" He hums.

"Mhm."

"Traffic's got you all messed up like that?" The man quizzes further.

Again, your body freezes. Your sights slowly rise back up and over to him, "Y-Yes Sir..."

He scoffs and you watch his hand raise. Toji beckons you over to him with two fingers. At first, you don't move. Then, after the slight stutter in your brain, you carefully walk over to him.

Toji's seated comfortably in his chair and peers up at you in front of him. He tilts his head to the side and nods his chin at your chest, "Need some help?" He offers.

You're not sure why his words make you shift around where you're standing. "U-Uh... yes." You murmur.

"Yes, what?" He taunts.

The words slip out of your mouth faster than you wanted them to, "Yes please."

Toji smirks and then sits up. It's so slow and teasing how his large hands rise up along your body, just barely grazing you before he reaches your chest. The man stares for a second and then flicks his gaze up to you.

You watch his fingers latch onto the buttons and he too struggles to fix your shirt properly. Something in your head tells you that he's struggling because of the angle he's at so, your body moves before you think about it.

You take another step forward and move so that one leg is planted in between his larger ones. The upper half of your body leans forward into the man's touch and you place a hand on the armrest of the chair to hold yourself up.

Then, to take it further, you lift the leg in between his and push your knee into the chair. You grow dangerously close to his crotch but you pretend not to notice it.

Toji bats his eyes at the sight of you over him. Your tits are practically in his face and he can smell the freshly sprayed perfume oozing off your body. The fingers he had on those buttons of yours slip off of you and he sits back in his chair.

You swallow, "S-Sorry is this..." You start moving back.

Toji licks his lips before saying, "Did I tell you to move?"

Your body halts all movement in an instant. He smirks at your sudden obedience. The man weighs his head to the side while looking up at you.

Those seemingly hazel eyes of his narrow at you, "Let's do somethin' a little different today." Toji suggests.

You remain over him, "Different l-like what?"

His legs spread further apart and you don't miss the way his hips roll upward as he adjusts himself in his chair. The sight alone makes the annoying throb in your core continue. Toji doesn't lay a finger on you just yet, simply gazing up at you.

"I want you to tell me about yourself today."

"H-Huh?"

"It's been four weeks and I've hardly learned anything about the woman interviewing me," Toji points out. He then tilts his head, "How's that fair?"

You blink dumbfoundedly, "Well... I didn't think it was uh, necessary for you to learn much about me."

"It's probably not but," A slow hand rises slightly and his fingertips graze the end of your skirt playfully. "I am curious."

"Why?" You ask, chuckling nervously.

His eyes drop down to where his hand is and you feel two of his fingers move to pinch the fabric of your skirt. "Every week you show up in a similar outfit and ask me all kinds of questions. And the one thing I've noticed is that somehow," Deep colored eyes snap back up to your face, "The questions always turn into something sexual."

"Well I've said it before Mr. Fushiguro, those questions-"

"Make your project better, yeah, yeah, I know." He cuts off. "But if that's the case, why don't you just find out the answer to some of those questions yourself?"

You swallow, "What do you mean...?"

"Last week you asked me about my kinks." Toji recalls casually, "Why don't I demonstrate one on you?"

Your whole body is hot and needy at the very idea of what he's suggesting. The look in your eyes is unavoidably lustful and the man could clearly see from the moment you'd walked in that you were unusually flustered.

"D-Demonstrate?" You repeat innocently.

"Yeah, how's that sound?" Toji asks, looking for your consent. "You can tell me no if I'm misinterpreting all those looks you've been giving me-"

"No, no," You cut off, "I wanna do it, sir."

Toji's cock twitches at the sultry sound of your voice and the words you just uttered.

That painfully attractive smirk of his appears, "Yeah?"

You nod your head, "Mhm."

Okay, this is not how you intended things to go today. It was supposed to be another day of you flirting and asking more suggestive questions but, this works out for you anyways. Not only are you shamefully wet because of the way Geto was moaning and praising you not too long ago but you also can't help but feel so very needy for the touch of Toji Fushiguro.

His hands are so large and veiny, you want them all over your body. You crave for this professor to manhandle you and fuck you til' you can't think straight.

"Alright then," Toji sighs, sitting back in his seat. His eyes then focus on your own with complete seriousness, "Sit."

You hesitate. Glancing around the area, you wonder if he was referring to a nearby seat or something.

Toji chuckles at the clear confusion in your eyes but then he bobs his leg one good time to gesture where he was talking about. "Right here, pretty girl." He directs.

You slowly look down at his large leg in between yours, "O-On your leg, Mr. Fushiguro?"

"My thigh. Sit." He orders.

Embarrassment was coursing through you. Surely if you sat on his thigh, he'd feel the mess you are in your underwear.

You swallow, "Why...?"

Toji snickers at your hesitance. "I wanna watch you get off on my thigh."

You think you feel your cunt throb as his words hit your ears. The thought alone is dizzying.

"So," He continues, moving a hand to your lower back and lightly tapping you. "Sit."

Finally, you do just as he's instructed. As you seat yourself on his thigh, you feel so jittery and nervous. You're soaked right now and you just know he can feel it.

When Toji sees you've made yourself comfortable, he moves his hand to your chin and grabs a light hold of it, "Good girl." He praises.

You think you had to bite back the moan that wanted to escape you in reaction to the praise alone.

The leg in between yours suddenly lifts into you slightly, making your lips part and a breathy noise leaves you. "Now," Toji takes his hand off you and stares at the full sight of your smaller body resting atop his thigh. "Go on, lemme watch you fuck yourself on me."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[bunnycvnts]

demonstration

pairing: lowkey psycho!rafe x dumb!reader

warnings: talk of sexual assault. groping. manipulation. sorta noncon/dubcon. gaslighting. talk of drugging and abuse. detailed description of readers body, excluding skin tone/hair color. perv!rafe. use of pet names (bunny, baby, doll). condescending tone + dumbing down reader. objectification. dumbification.

summary: after spotting a pretty little thing across the bar, rafe will do anything if it means he can get his hands on you.

disclaimer: this was written with plus size!reader in mind as i’ve been getting a lot of reqs for more plus size content. but other than some body descriptions, it’s not really mentioned. reader is also new to town, and pretty oblivious when it comes to crimes against women.

drinking at the country club, surrounded by his kook friends and cute little waitresses, rafes attention was caught by laughter. his eyes scanned the room, searching for the culprit, and he landed his gaze upon a pretty girl wearing a pleated white skirt and a baby pink tank top. you were still laughing and engaged in a conversation with whoever was sitting at the bar with you. you were real shy when you caught yourself in slightly anxious situations, like sitting at a bar alone, until the person next to you struck up a conversation. rafe could see your flushed cheeks from across the room, but his eyes didn’t stay on your face for long.

the conversation around him fell on deaf ears as he studied you. his eyes soon traveled down the length of your body as you sat on the bar stool. thick meaty thighs that smooshed together and into the chair, the fat of your ass hanging slightly over the sides of the chair, and your heavy tits resting against the bar counter top. his mouth felt dry, and his cock twitched faintly in his khaki shorts. he forced his gaze upwards and back to your face, your chair angled in a way that allowed him only to see your side profile. your hair was laid flat against your shoulders with small tendrils clipped back, showing off your hoop earrings. rafe loved hoops. he pulled gently at the collar of his shirt, his body now feeling warmer than usual. he wasn’t sure if he’d seen you before, possibly a tourist or from the mainland. he didn’t know, but he planned to find out.

without a word, he left his table and walked with purpose towards you, hardly noticing the much older man in the seat next to you, flirting shamelessly despite your now uncomfortable laughter. he stood on the other side of you, clearing his throat to catch your attention. when you looked over at him, your cheeks were still flushed and your eyes were slightly wide with panic.

“hey. you know this guy?” his gaze flickered back and forth between you and the moron next to you. the other man scoffed, clearly annoyed by this new presence.

“uh no, not really.” you seemed timid, playing with your hands as you avoided eye contact with either of them.

“no, she doesn’t. but, we’re getting to know each other, isn’t that right, doll?” the guy’s voice made rafes ears want to bleed; he’s not sure how you lasted so long talking to him. the guy was eyeing you up like a piece of meat, his hand brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, even as you shifted away. rafe felt his blood boil at the sight of your discomfort, and even more at the man’s lack of care for it. he was quick to get into the man’s space, pushing his way between the two of you.

“right, right. yeah. and who are you again?” his tone was ice cold, his eyes were narrowed to slits and his arms crossed over his broad chest. the older man stood up, his lack of height in comparison now very obvious by rafes tall form.

“my name is robert, i frequent this club, and id prefer if you’d stop bothering us.” robert’s face was now pale from rafes icy stare and intimidating stance.

“alright, robert. you like fucking with younger girls? you a creep or some shit? i mean, you’re pushing a good 65, and i caught that wedding ring on your finger. your wife not putting out anymore? feel like you need young pussy again? cmon robert, we both know you can’t get it up anymore, so why don’t you leave the pretty girl alone before i take you outside and put you down like a fuckin mutt.” rafes angry words were juxtaposed to his playful tone, and by the time he was done speaking, he was chest to chest with robert.

you stood up abruptly, saying “no, it’s okay. we were just talking, it’s fine. there’s no need for violence.” you were trembling as you put your hand on rafes chest, gesturing for him to step backwards, but all he did was place his hand on top of yours and smile condescendingly.

“oh, bunny, i think there will be if this perverted fuck doesn’t get out of here.” his grip tightened on your hand, and you both watched as robert quickly booked it out of the club after slamming some bills down to pay his tab. after watching robert run, he turned his attention towards you, stepping closer which, caused you to falter and take a step back.

“listen, i really appreciate you for doing that, but you were unreasonably rude. i doubt he was gonna do anything.” rafe tongued his cheek and scoffed, shaking his head. he dragged you outside and cornered you against the wall on the backside of the country club.

“are you serious? he was two seconds away from slipping something in your drink and having his way with you in the men’s locker room.”

it was your turn to scoff and shake your head. “he was touchy-sure and was making me uncomfortable, but people don’t just commit acts of violence in public places. i was fine. i don’t know you and you don’t know me. thanks for getting him away, but he was a harmless old man.”

rafe looked at you like you were stupid, that condescending gaze back in his eyes as he peered down at you. he stepped forward, caging you even further against the wall, his arms on either side of your head.

“you think any man sees your thick thighs and your swollen, heavy tits and thinks of doing anything besides fucking you senseless? are you kidding me? that perv was gonna grope you dumb if you kept talking to him.”

“grope me dumb??? what does that even mean?” you asked him, completely ignoring his comments about your body and instead focusing on his delusional ideas.

“i’ll fucking show you.” his hands fell from the wall and landed on your tits, squeezing the heavy fat over your tank top, pushing them up to spill over the seam. without giving you a second to realize what he was doing at first, he moved his hands again. this time under your skirt, and he felt up the warm plush skin of your thighs until he met the crease of your ass, squeezing the meaty skin in his big hands.

you couldn’t think. his big, calloused hands were draining every thought from your body until he plucked at the seam of your panties. you got a hold of yourself and pushed him off.

“what the fuck. i don’t even know you.” you tried walking away, ignoring the dampness forming in your underwear from his touch. he was quick to pull you back and push you against the wall again.

“see? groped you dumb, it took you forever to realize the reality of the situation and stop me. what if i hadn’t been so nice and stopped when you said to? then what were you gonna do, hm? you need me. i’ll protect you from creeps like that. no man will even think about touching you when they see you on my arm.”

you felt dizzy, not sure if you were comprehending his words correctly. you guess he had a point; his hands had made you freeze, unable to move or stop the situation. what would you have done if that’d been robert, or any other man. you were new to town, didn’t know anyone, didn’t know what places were safe, or even where the sheriffs department was.

you were brought from your thoughts by a light slap to your cheek; it wasn’t rough, but it had caught your attention.

“so, you gonna listen to me and let me protect you or are you gonna leave that perfect little body vulnerable to all the creeps in kildare? because you’re clearly a little braindead and don’t realize a threat when you see one, but that’s okay, bunny. i can fix that.” his face was close to yours, and you could feel his breath on your face, smelling of mint and bourbon. at your silence, he kept going.

his fingertip trailed across your plush cleavage, dipping past your tank top and into the cup of your bra, brushing over your nipple. “look at this, its every man’s wet dream. let me keep you safe, baby.” you could feel his hard cock rutting against your hip, making you whimper. you were at a loss for words, only gazing up at him and nodding as he was still tweaking and pulling at your nipple.

“yeah, you feel that, bunny? you’re too innocent to be left alone with creepy men. this is how you make them feel too, except they won’t hesitate to do something about it. i’m so nice to you already, aren’t i? i’m not like them; i’ll keep you safe from them.”

rafe knew you were shy, he knew it from the minute he saw robert inching closer to you, and you didn’t stop him. rafe knew you needed him, and if talking to you like you were dumb and had no other choice made you realize that, he’d do it happily. he’d scare you into being his. he’d do anything if it meant you’d let him protect you and let him have access to your plush warm body.

after that and throughout the following months, you and rafe got to know each other. you quickly became accustomed to sleeping in his bed, eating every meal with him, sitting in his golf cart while he played, and overall never leaving his side. you’d been scared into complacency, obeying his every word in fear of the dangerous men he often talked about who lived on the island. he said there were many of them—too many for him to call out by name and too many for you to leave the house unprotected.

every night that you spent in his bed was accompanied by rafe showing you exactly what each man would want to do to you. what ideas flooded sickos, creeps, and pervs brains when they saw you. rafe would lay you down or push you against the wall and talk you through it, telling you how lucky you were that this was just a demonstration from someone you trusted, someone who loved you. rather than someone who would only abuse you and fill your holes; there’d be no pleasure in sight for your small body. you’d only be used like a toy by dangerous men, but with rafe he’d love you. after each demonstration, he’d caress your soft skin and spend hours eating you out before giving you another orgasm with his thick cock stuffed inside you, feeling your fluttering and spasming walls clench around his length.

he told you he’d protect you from those men, and if you ever left him, he would be one of those men.

taglist: @sunkissedrafe @mousie101 @cxsmiclore @judessangel @ditzyzombiesblog

[amorgansgal]

Doing Something Unholy

So, as inspired by a post @waterdeepwhiskey and with encouragement from @waterdeep-weavemoss I have written some glorious smutty filth, involving Gale and a Female Reader/Tav fucking in front of Mystra's statue. Hope you all enjoy some nice, vindictative fucking!

Gale x Female Reader/Tav

CW: Sexual content, oral sex, sex in public

It seemed like no one in camp wanted to tell you where Gale had gone off to. Granted, you both weren’t possessive of each other or needed to know where one another was at all times. But everyone was acting very oddly. You’d narrowed your chosen targets for interrogation to Halsin and Karlach. Most would likely keep the matter a secret, but you felt like an appeal of the heart might win Karlach over and a plea of just wanting honesty would work with Halsin.

You headed over to Karlach’s tent, tucked away between two buildings and she immediately began to fuss with her belongings, as though she had changed her mind on where everything should go. ‘Karlach,’ you began warningly.

‘Hey soldier!’ she said brightly. ‘I… um… I have to… Wyll wants me to help with dinner, so…’

‘You burnt dinner last time you helped with it,’ you pointed out.

‘I know, that’s why I’m on chopping duty. He thinks I can manage that, so I ought to get going, those carrots won’t-!’

‘Karlach, please, where’s Gale?’

She sighed and looked over to the others. You glanced behind you and saw Shadowheart watching you both, a troubled frown on her face and by the looks of things having just shook her head. You snapped your head back around to look at Karlach.

‘Don’t lie to me, where is he?’ For a horrible minute you wondered if he was at Sharess Caress, it seemed so unlike him, even the way the Drow twins had spoken to you had made him deeply uncomfortable. He had said so. But where the hell could he be if he wasn’t there? And why hadn’t he told you where he had gone or what he was up to?

‘He… you remember we visited Stormshore Tabernacle where there was the statue of Mystra?’ Karlach said, evidently deciding it was better to tell you and risk Shadowheart’s annoyance. 

‘The statue of Mystra?’ you repeated, almost dumbly.

‘Yeah, he said he wanted to… uh… go and look at it.’

‘Why does looking at a statue take the better part of an hour?’ you asked, Karlach gave a bemused shrug.

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.’

‘And he wanted to keep this a secret from me?’

‘Well, I don’t know about a secret…’

You scowled formidably, snatched up your cloak from a pile of clean laundry and began to head back out to the city. You evidently needed a good talk with your lover, if that was what he was up to. Karlach called out to you to wait, but you decided to forgo travelling with the group and shouted over your shoulder, ‘We’ll be back in a minute or two!’ Thankfully no one followed you after that.

***

Stormshore Tabernacle was quiet after dark, the door was still open, but the priest was gone for the evening. Flickering candles illuminated the now subdued hall, casting shadow and golden light over the faces of the stone gods. You snuck in through the door, closing it behind you and immediately spotted Gale, who hadn’t even noticed your presence. His gaze was transfixed on the carved visage of Mystra and if you hadn’t known better you would have assumed he was hexed or frozen to the spot by a spell. 

‘Gale,’ you murmured, and he jumped, quickly turning around to look at you.

‘Gods, I thought you were-’ he coughed and looked sheepish. ‘Well, I hardly know, an enemy of some sort. Spend half our days fighting that I’m starting to look for them when they aren’t even there.’

You carefully approached the statue and looked up at Mystra. The same electrifying jolt that you had felt when you first visited sent a shiver down your skin, the weave was stronger here with just her depiction alone. It both warmed and cooled you at the same time, made you feel a little dizzy and jubilant with the sweet promise of power. 

‘Not so much an enemy,’ you said, looking at Mystra’s face. Even you wouldn’t admit to being an enemy of a god, that was far too risky and undeniably tempting for a god to put you in your place. ‘But something of a rival I suppose.’

‘Ah,’ he replied. ‘Look you have no reason to fear-’

‘Do I not? Most people would not take kindly to their supposed lover spending the better part of an evening staring at a depiction of their ex-lover.’

‘No, and I understand why you would fear my loyalty, but you need not doubt me. I came here to work out a few things in my head.’

‘A few things you couldn’t talk about with me?’

‘I didn’t want to talk to you about them because I fear I talk about Mystra too much and I didn’t want you to feel like that’s what I always do. But perhaps I should’ve,’ he admitted quietly. 

‘Yes, or at least told me that’s what you had planned to do! And not made everyone in camp keep it a silly little secret.’

He hummed in agreement and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, it does feel silly now. I just… I look at her and I don’t feel how I felt a long time ago. My feelings towards her are complicated, but love doesn’t feel part of it, I don’t feel I can love her anymore. I don’t feel I want to love her anymore.’ He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, you were caught between the altar for Mystra and Gale’s firm chest under the warm softness of the velvet cloak he wore. ‘I love you, entirely, completely. You have my heart in the palm of your hand and I can do nothing but beg you to keep it.’

You couldn’t help smiling at his declaration and he seized the opportunity, cupping your face and kissing you. It had been a sweet, gentle kiss at first, but as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and his hands found your waist, he pressed you up against the altar. He nipped your lower lip, a silent plea to allow him access to your mouth, and you conceded, letting him slip his tongue between your teeth. His hands drifted further down to your thighs and butt and he lifted you up till you were sat on the altar.

Perhaps you should have questioned whether this was a good idea, perhaps you would have advised it not be worth risking the anger of a goddess for momentary pleasure, but the part of your brain the quite frankly couldn’t stand the goddess and what she had done to Gale won out. Let her deal with you fucking her ex-lover, let her deal with the fact that you had stopped Gale from detonating the orb, that he wanted to give you the whole world and his loyalty to her as a worshipper was shaky at best! 

You had already made light work of the laces on his breeches and slipped your hand inside, stroking his already hard cock, pre-cum already slick on your fingers, you ran it down the length and smiled as Gale groaned against your mouth. He pressed hot, needy kisses down your neck. ‘Gods, we shouldn’t do this,’ he muttered, though he didn’t sound very convinced by the suggestion.

‘Do you really want to stop?’ you murmured enticingly and stroked him again, he let out a delightful, tremulous breath he let out as you did. You would’ve stopped if he said no, but instead he scrabbled with the material of the dress you wore, tugging up the skirt till it was around your hips. His fingers easily found your slit and he bit back a groan finding you wet and wanting. Gale trailed them up to your clit and you let out a quiet moan in the temple at the heady rush of pleasure you felt. Perhaps it was all the more delicious and delightful to be doing something so wicked and sinful in a temple of the gods.

He pulled you forwards, closer to the edge of the altar and then went to his knees. You bit back a smile and his eyes gleamed in the half-light. ‘I’ve heard tell that love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling. Consider me a humble worshipper,’ he said and began to kiss up your thigh. 

He reached the apex and kept a tight hold on your legs, pressed his mouth against your slit and began to lap, kissing and sucking on your clit and making you gasp and moan and squirm on the stone table. Your hand knocked off a necklace that someone had left as an offering as you desperately tried to find purchase, even as your head dropped back from the pleasure Gale’s clever, well practised tongue was easily drawing from your body. You would’ve happily let him continue, but you didn’t want to risk being interrupted and your body felt like a taut bow string. 

‘Gale,’ you panted. ‘We can’t… we need to be quick…’

He let out a groan of frustration and drew back a little. His face was flushed and his lips and chin were covered with your slick, even that sent a shiver of desire running through you. 

‘I like taking my time,’ he pouted.

‘And I like not having my pleasure interrupted by a priest who might overhear us and come looking!’

Gale got up and wrapped a tight arm around your waist, kissing you frantically, his fingers dug into the meat of your thighs and he groaned as his cock brushed against your sopping wet clit. You shifted your hips just a little and he easily slipped inside you. Gale let out a quiet moan, his face buried into your shoulder and he bit down, trying to quieten himself as you whimpered at the feel of him. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathed against your neck. ‘You feel so good.’

‘Better than all the heavens and anything Mystra could offer?’ 

He raised his head, a wicked smile on his lips. ‘Far better.’ He fucked you hard and fast, hips slamming into yours, his fingers fumbled against your clit, working quickly to bring about your pleasure and it was all you could do to keep one hand gripping the stone altar to stop you from falling back and another hand fisted into the material of Gale’s shirt. The quiet temple was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the soft pants and moans from you both as you rushed to find your pleasure. Until finally Gale let out a rather loud groan as he buried himself to the hilt within you and you felt his release, you shuddered around him as he easily brought you to your own bliss. Your head fell backwards and you saw the cold, stony face of Mystra.

‘Fuck you, you fucking bitch, look at how well he fucks me on your precious little altar,’  you thought in your head, though even after all that you had done you dared not say it aloud. It was petty of you, but truth be told it made you feel good. You both got your breath back and once Gale had tidied himself away, he offered a hand to help you down from the altar.

‘Ah,’ he said, and on turning, you saw you had left a rather sizable wet patch on the stone. Gale lifted his hand, presumably to cast prestidigitation to remove it, but you caught hold of his arm. 

‘Leave it, consider it our offering to her,’ you insisted.

‘Tav,’ he warned. ‘She will not be pleased.’

‘Is she ever? Besides, it’s a little too late for that, and what’s she going to do, stick another orb in you?’

He chuckled and shook his head. Gale gazed at the wet patch for a moment longer, then placed his arm around your waist. You thought he would insist on cleaning it up, but instead he guided you from the temple and you both made your way down the steps and back to camp.

[bluehourbucky]

not a want but a need

pairing: Baker!Bucky x f!reader

summary: you have a healthy obsession with buckys arms and hands / plan to tease bucky backfires <3

a/n: just really thought about how huge baker buckys arms must be 😩😤

-gonna go to horny jail 😩

warnings: sexual content/ fingering /choking /tiny bit of period sex mentioned/ mirror fun/ edging / orgasm denial /

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

18+ only !!!!!!!!

please be kind I've never written smut before 🫠

/ masterlist / bucky /

_________________________________________

it's not often that you come see bucky at work mostly because the bakery is extremely busy and because you don't want to do something unsanitary.

when you first met bucky the first thing you noticed his huge arms, like you knew they were strong especially because he works with dough.

you've been caught staring at them multiple times which made you blush that was before you and bucky started officially dating. you were embarrassed how much you wanted to touch his bicep. not only that but the dirty thoughts have consumed you any time you stared at his arms or hands for longer than a second.

it really wasn't your fault bucky wore extra small shirts which made his arms look incredible.

oh and when he pulls up his sleeves you're a goner. even now after a year of dating you can not help yourself and thirst over his very very strong and beefy arms.

you love to hug his arm when you're sitting on the couch with his hand nestled between your thighs it's your second favorite place for his hand - the first one is well deep inside you.

bucky didn't understand it at first and was mostly just calling you out on it but now he's a menace and teases you any chance he gets.

he especially enjoys looking at you while he's making pasta from scratch when he's rolling the dough. you don't want to give in every time but you do.

bucky has been impossible for the past few days, you're on your period and he's been the worst tease ever and your hormones are not helping. today's the last day of your period and you're no longer feeling bloated or bleeding much.

so you came to his work to give him a taste of his own medicine - or at least that was the plan.....

"hi, steve! is bucky here?"

"yeah he's in the back want me to get him for you or?"

"nope i'll just go there."

and you do. and damn was it a good sight for sore eyes.

bucky is rolling the dough you don't know what he's making but there's this big lump of dough that he's massaging pushing around and the sweat is dripping down his temple. the way he just pushes the dough around makes you want to moan out loud.

his hair is put in a bun and his apron is full of flour but he's looking more delicious than any other thing in the bakery.

"oh hey cupcake. didn't see you there, when did you arrive?"

he looks at you and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform.

"hey uh just now." you're trying so hard to be chill but all the heat rushes over you when he looks at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

"you alright? did something happen?"

of course he asks that, you don't usually come here so of course he'd think something was wrong.

"oh I'm okay just wanted to see you."

it's not a lie. You did want to see him and make him suffer like he's been making you suffer. the whole idea was to come for a bit in his favorite dress do a twirl few light touches and leave.

but the whole plan went out of the window as soon as you saw him.

the only thing you want right now is his fingers inside you and a hand wrapped around your throat.

bucky checks out your outfit and smirks when he sees you clenching your thighs together.

"lemme' finish this to let it rest and i'll be with you in a minute."

you only have the strength to nod and watch as your boyfriend manages to tease you with a lump of dough.

and when bucky slaps the dough one last time for good measure, you think how you'd like to be on the receiving end.

"okay come with me." he doesn't touch you because there's flour all over him so you just follow like a lost puppy.

"open this please." he points at the door of the locker room and you do it he walks in first and tells you to close the door behind you but not to lock them.

the room is long and narrow on one side there's a long bench and on the other a row lockers and between some of them a mirror and a sink on the same side where the bench is.

bucky takes off his apron, then washes his hands, and you just stand there at a loss of words. your plan really backfired huh.

"tell me what you doin' here doll."

he comes and stands in front of you lifting your chin for you to look at him.

"not that I'm not happy to see you but this dress is a bit too much for a bakery visit? is it not?"

oh fuck.

you're in trouble.

he picks up the hem of the dress not enough to show your ass but still high enough.

"uh its nice outside and I just wanted to take a walk and this is a nice summer dress."

bucky laughs at your attempt to make this not what it is.

"sure is a nice dress."

he finally kisses you, the kiss is gentle and short much to your dismay. and when he pulls away you whine.

bucky lifts a brow at you.

"you sure you just came to see me in this dress for no reason at all?"

"yes i'm sure."

"come here." it takes you approximately a second to obey him. he's sitting on the bench right across the mirror.

he sits you down on his lap so you're both facing the mirror, he also spreads your legs as much as he can. buckys head is on your shoulder his hands still on your bare thighs.

"just came to see me huh?"

he's mocking you but you couldn't care less you just want him to do something.

"please bucky."

he chuckles and you feel the vibrations from his laugh not only that but you can feel his buldge digging into your ass.

you gasp as his cold hands find their way to your breasts. his fingers playing and squeezing your nipple and then he stops.

"don't move be good." you go still and he continues you'd rather have him touch you somewhere else but you need to be patient.

"baby is it okay if I touch you? how is your period? today's your last day if i counted well?"

ever the gentleman, he knows you're not big on period sex it's mostly because you don't like the mess, it's not like you never had it it really depends on the period.

"i'm good. its mostly gone. please touch me."

bucky wanted to rip the panties off but you told him not to do it anymore because apparently he ripped half of your collection.

you stand up and let bucky take them off before sitting down on his lap again.

"just a walk you say... why are your panties soaked darling. did you see something on that walk of yours that you liked." you whine and moan at bucky who is inspecting your very much soaked panties.

"what am I gonna do with you."

buckys hands find their way between your thighs and he's purposely avoiding the place you want him to touch the most.

he lifts the skirt of your dress and looks into your eyes through the mirror.

"you look so pretty like this gonna have to get one for our bedroom, have them mirrors everywhere." you nodd and just want him to fuck you.

finally he slides one finger in and it fills you more than three of your fingers together. he quickly adds another one and you're feeling both like in hell and you're being tortured but also in heaven.

he sits there and his fingers are not moving.

"pleasepleaseplease" you cry out you're so sensitive and needy and you can't belive he's doing this to you.

bucky finally has mercy and starts to move his fingers, the only sound that can be heard are your breaths and his fingers coming in and out of you.

the pace is torture it's slow and deep and he's right next to your g spot and he just won't touch it.

"sound so pretty princess. and look at you just the prettiest doll I've ever seen."

bucky finally adds the third finger, and you're a goner he picks up the movement and touches your spot every single stroak, his other hand, is on your throat, squeezing it.

oh, how you love when he does this.

"bucky bucky I'm close. I'm so close please!"

you manage to choke out when buckys hand squeezes you a bit harder than before.

buckys thumb starts to make circles on your clit and he feels you squeezing his fingers he knows you're close.

"I'm gonna- AHHH! bucky what the fuck."

he completely stops everything, his fingers are out of your pussy his hand no longer around your throat.

you're speechless.

"Doll it's really cute you wanted to take revenge on me but I gotta teach you to be a good girl. can't have you getting ideas."

"but you! I- I didn't do anything!"

"I'll go to see him at work in his favorite dress so he can't resist me and then ill just leave him hanging all day. see how he likes that."

your mouth makes an O and you blush.

"baby you sent that message to me. I'm sure it was meant for natasha but guess you have to check who you be sending these kind of messages to?"

bucky knew you were coming, you had accidentally texted him the message that was meant for nat.

you get up and search for your phone and unlock it and quickly getting to your chat with nat.

you: gonna get him so good nat!!

nat: who ???? what happened??? do I need to kill someone???

shit that's the last message you sent before coming in here you don't even know how you didn't notice the previous message never got to her.

"why didn't you tell me."

"wasn't this more fun?"

"no." you stomp your foot.

you stand in shock when he licks his fingers clean.

"taste so good might have to put you on the menu."

"you're such an-"

"amazing boyfriend whom you love very much?"

bucky finishes your sentence and comes up to you to kiss you, you can still taste yourself and try to deepen the kiss but bucky pulls away.

"don't give me that look doll. I have to go back to work."

you're looking at him giving him your best puppy eyes, at this point you're close to falling on your knees to beg him to just fuck you.

"I'll keep these by the way will give them back tonight."

"bucky no." you look at the panties he stuffed in his back pocket.

"bucky yes."

before he goes back to work, he grabs you from behind and wrapps his hand around your throat and whispers

"don't touch yourself before I get home or you won't get to cum for a week."

then he slaps your ass twice.

"you had some flour there can't have you walking with a dirty dress."

and he walks out.

your phone starts ringing.

nat <3 is calling

"hey are you okay? who are you gonna get? did something happen."

"im okay ill tell you but i'm okay."

"don't scare me like that!."

you apologise and hang up.

how are you supposed to walk home you don't know, your legs are still shaking.

"you okay? need some sugar?" steve offers a doughnut and you just nod.

doing the walk of of shame you shakely leave the bakery maybe this wasn't such a good idea but you're excited for tonight.

[the end]

extra:

"buck is your girl okay? she looked a bit pale and unwell as she was leaving?"

"she's okay just missing some vitamin D luckly it's sunny out so she can catch that before the night comes."

"okay...."

___________________________________________

I'm sorry about the pun udhdhdhd 😭🤡 sue me but I think it's funny

[da-rulah]

In Cold Blood - Terzo x f!reader

Summary: Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with.

After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home.

Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary?

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Word Count: 19.6k (i'm back bitchesssss)

Warnings: Dark fiction, horror fic, mentions of murder, coercion, manipulation, obsession, masturbation (f), voyeurism, manhandling, threat and mild violence, dubious consent (later turns to verbal consent), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, blood, blood drinking, unprotected sex

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WARNING: This is a work of DARK FICTION. It is a horror fic, and contains mentions of violence as well as elements of dubious consent and manipulation. Please do not read if this is going to affect you negatively. You have been warned, and I take no responsibility if you choose to ignore the warnings and triggers attached.

a/n: well hello there. It's been a while, hm? Radio silence and then BOOM, a 20k word fic outta nowhere? Well, this was written for the wonderful @angellayercake's birthday, and she's been so kind as to give her permission for me to share it. I promise, more new content coming soon, and I'll be working on an update for The Mayor's Daughter ASAP! Happy reading, creeps...

“What’s the catch?”

The real estate agent blinked at you in confusion, as if you’d just asked her to recite the square route of pi to the 30th decimal.

“The… the catch?” she asked, “I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s just so cheap, I have to wonder which closet the skeletons are hiding in…” you joked, knowing full well the skeletons were actually in the backyard under the headstones that sat growing moss and ivy for the last six decades at least.

“Ma’am… I’ve been very upfront about the state of the house. It needs extensive repairs and renovation, it has a graveyard out back, it’s way out in the sticks and the landscaping is overrun… What more could be wrong with it?” She rang out her hands nervously, chewing on her cherry red lips as you scrutinised her body language. You’re sure there was something she wasn’t telling you, but this was a perfect opportunity for you…

Coming off the back of a decent chunk of inheritance left by a relative you’d long-since forgotten, you needed a project. You’d always wanted to renovate a beautifully gothic home from the 19th century, and when you saw the listing for exactly that on the edge of a small town? Ideal. Perfect. Exactly what you wanted. The thought of being a little out in the country, surrounded by land and away from the bustle of the city you grew up in was all too appealing.

“It has a charm to it, don’t you think?” you smiled to yourself, fiddling with the dusty net curtains still hanging in the living room’s huge bay window.

“Uh… sure, yeah,” the agent agreed with reluctance, still so confused as to why you would be at all interested in this ruin that she couldn’t even show you all of due to the structural integrity of the floorboards.

“I’d like to put in an offer,” you told her, turning back to face her with a smile on your face.

“You… really? Oh, my god! Okay, great! Well, I’ll get the paperwork…” she sprung into action, suddenly full of an energy that could only have been triggered by the whiff of her future commission.

It would take some work, sure, but this place had the potential to be the perfect project and future home for you…

It took six months, but the structural integrity of the house had been stabilised by a team of builders you’d hired to take care of the place while you got your affairs in order and ready to move halfway across the country. You weren’t taking much; a lot of the furniture left in the abandoned house was part of the project and with a little restoration would be absolutely beautiful. You were ready for the work, ready to create a home that you could be so proud of and had your stamp on it.

Moving into the house was quicker than you thought it would be, with most of your furniture sold and donated. For now, you had to live out of suitcases until you had a bedroom and closet space that was clean enough to hang your things in.

At the very least, you’d cleaned and stripped the four-poster bed that still lay in the master suite, checking the integrity of the bed itself and noting how… pristine it seemed compared to a lot of the other furniture left behind. But this was made of expensive, dark mahogany wood – it was built to last, and so with a polish, a new mattress and sheets? You had a gorgeous bed to sleep in each night, taking a little bit of pressure off when you’d spent an entire day exhausting yourself over more renovations.

One of your first jobs had been landscaping in the graveyard. You’d felt pulled to the graves, wanting to give whoever was buried on your property a much more respectful resting place, rather than allowing them to be swamped by ivy and moss.

It seemed to be a family plot, probably the last family to have owned the home. Every stone had the same surname, dating back to the first of the deaths in 1904. What struck you as odd, however, was the nature of the stones themselves…

For the time period, you might have expected angels, cherubs, perhaps a cross or two. But whilst these stones were ornate and beautiful, they were not steeped in biblical references at all. Instead, the eldest stone had a decaying gargoyle sat atop it… Another, a ram’s head at the base. One had a stone skeleton laying above where the body would have been buried, carved into a slab of concrete as if it was protruding from the grave itself. You’d never seen graves like this before, symbols and carvings you couldn’t identify but had you on edge the minute you looked at them. But one of those symbols, you certainly recognised.

A pentagram.

Now, as a purveyor of the dark and mysterious, you hadn’t minded the thought of a graveyard in your garden. For goodness sake, you loved the gothic aesthetic, the dark and macabre had always called out to you. But to find these graves had a theme to them, a darker, occult theme… It cast a deeper shadow over the home you’d purchased.

Who were this family? Were they part of an occult? You were itching to understand the history, to uncover more about the lost family that let their home fall to ruin and their graves be overrun by nature.

But it had to wait, the renovations taking over to make your house a far more liveable abode. With the graves at least clear from nature’s extremities, you could come back to them another time to give them a proper clean, to uncover the names in full and potentially use the information to gather more with a trip to the local library or a google search.

For now, you had to get to cleaning room by room so you could begin stripping and re-decorating where it needed it most.

“…The Sheriff’s office have released a statement today to calm locals calling for more action in the string of disappearances throughout town. Last Monday saw the latest in the line of disappearances, 29 year old store clerk, Andrew Walton, taking the total up to 12 missing in the last nine months. Mr Walton was last seen on CCTV heading into the alley of the 7/11 where he worked…”

The radio news bulletin caught your attention as you were working in the master bedroom, stripping the already peeling wallpaper from the panelled walls atop a stepladder. You’d only moved in three weeks ago, and yet, the little radio you always put on to work to kept churning out the same story consistently – the string of disappearances in town that seemed to be getting more and more frequent.  

It would seem it was the town with skeletons in the closet, not your precious new home. The estate agent failed to mention that one…

When you first heard about it, you’d made sure the house was secure, with locks on the windows, every entrance bolted and sturdy. Being so far outside of town, you weren’t particularly worried since you rarely ventured from your home, particularly not at night when most of these disappearances seemed to have taken place. But it didn’t hurt to be safe...

Still, the thought that there may be someone out there snatching people for God only knows what purpose was a little unsettling. You could only hope the sheriff would do his job and catch whoever was behind the crimes soon – but it had already been nine months… All you could do was lay low, stay as far away from the potential risks of heading into town alone in the dark.

As the lunchtime bulletin ended, the radio began to play one of the top 40 songs you’d heard at least three times already today. Whilst it was repetitive, you’d learned the words, and found yourself singing along as you scraped at patches of wallpaper residue with your little scraping tool. You lost yourself to easily in the renovation tasks, the monotony allowing for your brain to whisk you away to distant worlds, like shooting your own music videos to the songs as you sang along.

Drifting so far off into your own thoughts is probably the reason you hadn’t realised the radio had actually cut out completely, and it was just you singing and the sound of the metal scraper to fill the silence… The batteries had died.

“Ah, shit…” you mumbled to yourself, stepping off the ladder and reaching for the radio you’d placed on the window sill. Upon closer inspection, you made the definite conclusion that it was in fact the batteries, and sighed in annoyance. Of all the things you didn’t think you’d need for a while at least, you would now have to rummage around in the unemptied moving boxes that were still stockpiled in the dining room, filled with ‘random crap’ from your ‘random crap’ drawers – the drawers every home has… You just hadn’t renovated enough of the kitchen to have a ‘random crap’ drawer yet.

Digging through the boxes, you pulled a tape measure, a pack of four highlighters with two missing, six bank statements dated four years ago and a set of tiny little wrenches from the collection, until finally, you found a pack of unopened batteries at the bottom of the box.

You fumbled with them, rushing to get them out and replace the dead ones in the radio so you could get your music back and get back to work. Just as you pushed the second battery in, the radio roared to life again, startling you with a sudden gasp. Your heart raced in your chest as you chuckled at yourself, laughing at how stupid you’d been to have forgotten to turn it off before you pushed the new batteries in.

But a sudden and much more frightening crash from beneath you had you jumping again within seconds, your grip on the radio faltering as it flew to the ground, the new batteries flying out at the impact and drenching the room in silence again.

Your head flew immediately to the old door to your left, the one that led beneath the house to the basement…

You don’t know how long you stared at it, your heart rate never calming down as your mind raced with scenarios. An animal? Old house falling apart? Ghost? Psycho killer from town? You had no idea what to think.

But you lived alone. No noise should be coming from down in the damn basement.

You stared for so long, you began to question if you’d heard anything at all. Perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you. But with a mental kick up the arse and a quick shake of the head to rid yourself of the fear, you marched over to the door to investigate like every stupid final girl in every horror movie you’d ever seen.

When you pulled on the string light, it buzzed and flickered before settling on a barely-there orange glow. Thankfully, it didn’t matter so much, the small windows in the house’s foundations letting in just enough light to deem the room visible. You could smell the must as you stepped down the wooden stairs, creaking under your feet as if some obnoxious special effects guy was dubbing the scene.

The movers had moved some of the restorable furniture you’d asked them to keep down here, stacking it in a far corner for you to come back to when you’d sorted the main structure and décor of the house. They were caked in a thick layer of dust, fingerprints from the movers clearly visible.

But nothing looked like it had fallen, there wasn’t anything broken or toppled over on the floor at all. The bang you’d heard had no source, that you could see. Even the cellar doors that led to the yard out back were still chained and bolted shut – you couldn’t blame it on a gust of wind, and upon first inspection, there was no sign of an animal somehow making its way inside either.

But to be sure, you walked through the clear space in the centre of the basement and over to the furniture pile of display cabinets, side tables, some chairs and a wardrobe you’d had moved from the master bedroom. It was one of your favourite pieces, that wardrobe. You planned to only clean it up and revarnish it, matching the ornate wood of the bed that had been kept pristine and you now used as your own. Even the mirrors on the door – oval shaped with dark ivy carved into the edges – were in fantastic condition. No scratches, just caked in a layer of dust like the rest.

A closer look proved there were no animals in the basement, no rodents or critters to try and ferry back outside. But what you did notice were the fingerprints on the brass handles of the wardrobe. Perhaps the movers had peaked inside – you hadn’t when you viewed the place. Maybe there were some old clothes still left behind from another decade?

Curiosity got the best of you, and you opened the door with a shriek of its hinges to find… nothing. The wardrobe was empty save for a few wire hangers that jingled with the opening of the door, and another layer of dust, albeit thinner, on the low shelf inside. But the dust was disturbed…

In the centre, there was a rectangle in the dust, as if it had been carefully wiped clean with absolute precision… It was about the size of a shoe box, but the dark grain of the wood stood out around the greyed and dulled wood surrounding it. Something had been in there for years, and had been removed…

Instantly, you blamed the movers. They’d gone nosing around and taken something they thought was valuable? Oh hell no. It got your back up immediately… You’d trusted these people, and they’d stolen from you? They’d be getting a phone call later.

Now pissed, you shut the door to the wardrobe a little harder than perhaps you should, the bang that sounded ricocheting off the stone walls of the basement.

That sounded like what you’d heard from upstairs.

You brushed it off, thinking nothing of it and instead looking up into the oval mirror of the door to check you’d left no damage to it.

But then you saw him. A man, in the dusty reflection standing in the far corner, the darkest spot of the basement. You could only see an outline, a silhouette. But one of his eyes seemed to gleam brighter than the other, the light perhaps hitting it just right. He was glaring at you, watching you intently in the dull reflection…

You shrieked, spinning in your place and slamming your back into the wardrobe behind you. Your chest heaved in panic, heart racing and breaths coming short and fast while your eyes searched the dimly lit corner and found nothing.

There was no man stood in the corner, nothing at all in fact. You were completely alone, your mind playing havoc on you in your heightened state of anxiety and anger. Even now, your heart was still hammering away, your lungs just beginning to regulate your breathing.

You straightened yourself up and wiped at your clothes that collected dust from the wardrobe when you’d slammed into it.

“Dumbass,” you mumbled to yourself, heading back upstairs quickly and slamming the basement door. You tried your best to shake off the anxiety, putting your batteries back into your radio and rushing back to the master bedroom to continue with the wallpaper scraping in the hopes it might put your mind back at ease. But for the rest of the day, you felt an anxiety you couldn’t shift, as if there truly was a man in the corner of every room you entered, glaring at you from the shadows.

It took a few days to get all the paper and residue off the walls in the master bedroom, careful not to mess with the panelling you wanted to sand down and keep as part of the décor. But for now, you could finally get onto stripping the paper in one of the other bedrooms, hoping to strip all of the paper from the upstairs in one go before getting around to sanding and replacing any panelling so you wouldn’t be spreading the dust into rooms you’d already finished and cleaned. There was method in your madness – strip everything down, sand, then clean.

The next biggest room upstairs had no furniture in it and was in the worst state, having been the room with the most extensive damage to the flooring and structural integrity. Builders had to replace the entire floor, and so had removed everything to do so. Apparently a leak in the roof – now fixed, of course – had caused irreparable water damage to the far corner, where they’d also removed the mouldy panelling and cleaned the remaining black mould properly and safely.

But now the rest of the room needed its paper stripped, so that’s where you found yourself. Your little radio blared the same station as always as you scraped away at the paper, making your way along the walls. It came off easier than the master bedroom, the damp of the room helping to already ease the adhesive from the plaster beneath.

As you moved to a section of the wall near the window, placing the stepladder on the floorboard, you heard one rattle beneath it. Having had the entire floor replaced, you’d assumed that every floorboard would be secured down. Perhaps the builders had missed one, but a few nails and you could fix that. So you moved the stepladder out of the way and crouched to inspect the plank that wobbled.

It had the holes in it where the nails should have been, and yet, there were no nails to hold it down… It was as if it had been secured and then pulled up again, except you couldn’t figure out why.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you pushed on one end of it to lift it from the structured beams beneath it. It opened up to a crawl space filled with fresh insulation and piping beneath the room. But when you pulled out your phone to flick on the flashlight, you noticed a rather out of place looking jewellery box had been hidden just to one side of the loose floorboard.

Instinct overruled you and you reached for it, pulling it from under the floorboard and wiping the dust from the top of it. It was a beautiful jewellery box, made of dark wood with an intricate baroque pattern carved into it and filled with some kind of gold resin. It had no lock on it, only a hook to keep its lid closed.

It made no sense to you… Why would this be under the floorboards when the floor was so new? Where had it come from? Should you open it?

And then your brain connected the dots. This box was the same shape, and a similar size to the disturbed dust inside the wardrobe in the basement. This had come from the wardrobe…

Logically, you concocted a story that maybe one of the builders had found it and wanted to hide it, come back for it later but forgot. But if they knew it was of value, surely they wouldn’t have forgotten it? And that patch in the wardrobe seemed too fresh, too pristine… Still, you had no other logical answer. You refused to believe it had magically found its way up from the basement and under the floorboards by itself – or even more horrifyingly, at the hands of someone else.

But you had to open it, right? You had to see what was inside, to see why someone would want to hide such a pretty little box at all. So you flicked the hook open, and slowly opened up the jewellery box…

You’d have to say you were disappointed. There were things in here, but nothing that screamed value at you, more like cheap and random items. There were some cuff links that you thought may have been silver, but were only sterling silver; a costume jewellery bracelet made of plastic pearls; a lipstick, worn down to within an inch of its life in a deep red shade; various little knick-knacks that together made absolutely no sense at all. The only thing that stood out to you as remotely unusual, was a watch.

This watch looked ordinary, something you’d pick up for cheap. It was broken, the glass cracked and the time clearly not moving on from 11:06 on the day it broke. It wasn’t branded, the clock face not diamond-incrusted or made of any real precious materials. But just under where the hands connected in the centre was a tiny little rotating set of numbers for a date, reading as 19/03/24 – just over a week ago. The watch had stopped working just over a week ago.

You couldn’t entertain this idea any longer. You stuffed the watch back into the box, slamming the lid closed and putting it back under the floorboards in the hope it might poof itself out of existence. You had to be imagining things, this wasn’t real. First, hearing noises down in the basement. Then, seeing the reflection of a man in the wardrobe mirror, only for him to disappear when you turned around. Now, finding a box of trinkets in the floorboards with items that were completely out of place for the time period of the old house.

You were being ridiculous, making up things that didn’t exist and had no significance at all. This must have been left by a builder, the battery being the reason it stopped, not the crack in the glass. There was just no way. No one had been by the house since you moved in besides the postman, and even he had quickly stuffed the mail into the mailbox at the end of your drive and run off quickly every time you caught him.

A creak in the floorboards in the hallway snapped you from your racing conspiracies, igniting your fight or flight response much like the noise in the basement the other day. This time you didn’t freeze, you stood up quickly and ran to the doorway to see if you could catch whatever was making the noise.

There he was again.

The same silhouette, a man stood in the hallway, backlit from the large window behind him and the sun streaming in through it. You couldn’t see his face properly, left in shadow but you could see those same eyes, glaring at you, watching to see if you would make a move…

Anger flared inside you, thinking you had an intruder in your home. You weren’t one to back down from a fight or go quietly. If this man was skulking around your house in broad fucking daylight, you were going to confront him.

“HEY! Who the fuck are you?!” you yelled from the doorway, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

The silhouette said nothing, instead stepping to the right through the door to your master bedroom. Without a second thought you ran towards the open doorway, grabbing the scraper from the floor where you’d set it down earlier as some kind of precautionary weapon.

“I said, get out of my-“ you stopped, frozen in fear. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, confusion replacing the rage inside you.

Nothing.

There was nobody in here. And you made damn sure to check… No one behind the door, no one in the en-suite, no one under the bed… No one.

You were losing your mind. You had to be. Perhaps you had spent too long alone in this old house, maybe you needed to socialise, head into town and meet some real people instead of chasing shadows. This wasn’t healthy, all this obsessive renovation work. This was your brain telling you you needed a break, right? It had to be that, because you could come up with no sound, logical explanation as to why you were seeing a shadow man roaming around your house other than madness. None of this was really happening, this was simply a descent into insanity caused by too much isolation.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to quiet the pounding heartbeat in your ears as the fear crept its way inside, burrowing deeper with every strange happening you seemed to experience.

A day off was all you’d needed, time out of the house to escape the need to be working, to essentially touch some grass and speak to another actual human being besides the shadow you’d conjured in your head. You’d gone into town, done some shopping, sat in a local coffee shop… You’d met a lovely older woman in there – Amelie, a widow and life-long resident – who’d welcomed you to town, so excited to have a fresh and pretty face to say hello to.

Although, she had warned you to head home before the sun set… That you should never walk alone in the evenings, and should lock your doors and windows at night.

“He likes the younger ones,” she’d told you. “I’m no good, you see… He likes them young.”

That had chilled you to the bone… Perhaps the mad ramblings of a woman hitting senility, but already on edge after the last few days at home, it seemed to strike a nerve. But nothing could have prepared you for the look on her face when she’d asked her where in town you had moved into, and you divulged it was the old farmhouse on the outskirts.

Her cheeks had sagged, smile dropping instantly. She shifted in the chair she’d taken at your table, straightening out the skirt of her dress over her knees and avoiding eye contact. And then she clutched her necklace in her fist – a gold crucifix – as she reached to take yours in her other hand.

“You must protect yourself, yes? That house… Something is there. You must be careful,” she told you, her voice as stern as she could make it to hide the tremble of fear.

“I-I’m okay, really… It just looks old, it’s overgrown and falling apart but I’m working on-“

“No!” she yelled, turning the heads of other patrons in the coffee shop. Her grip on your hand squeezed tighter, her nails digging into your hand painfully. “You should leave, before it’s too late. Such a pretty young thing, you shouldn’t be there…”

You pried her bony, arthritic fingers from around your hand and gently held hers in both of yours.

“I’m okay, Amelie. Please, don’t worry…” you comforted her, but she seemed dissatisfied, her eyes wide as she conceded.

That entire interaction had sat with you for the rest of the day as you’d wandered through the local farmer’s market, picking up fresh vegetables to turn into a casserole for one tonight. It shouldn’t have unnerved you the way it did, such an elderly woman was clearly suffering the effects of an ageing mind and yet, with the experiences of the last few days? Her warning unnerved you.

You headed home long before sunset, and locked the doors and windows like she’d told you to. Did it make you feel any better? Absolutely not… But as you pottered around in the kitchen making the casserole you’d planned, slowly the anxiety started to ease, helped mostly by the music on your little radio.

You ate in peace, scrolling through your phone while you tapped your foot on the tiled floor of the kitchen. You didn’t mind these lonely evenings so much, having grown tired of the bustling city long ago. These days, the quiet of your own company was quite welcome, easily sinking into your own little world.

Even as you stood at the sink, scrubbing at the dishes, you were in your own world, humming along to another overplayed song you’d heard time and time again. You’d find yourself staring out the window in front of you at the sunset, the sky painted pinks and oranges and casting a tranquil glow over the little graveyard out back. Dusk was quickly approaching, the night drawing in as you cleaned.

Just as you placed your plate on the drying rack beside you, you looked out again at the graves, now like silhouettes as the sky turned to a deeper shade of bluey purple. But your heart dropped, every hair on your body standing on end.

The shadow figure. The same shadow figure… Stood out by the graves, looking down at them with its back to you. He seemed to be wearing the same thing as last time you spotted him; slacks, a black coat made of heavy wool that just passed his knees. He was just standing, staring…

You froze in place, watching… You felt paralysed, like you’d spotted a large spider on the wall, staring at it to make sure it didn’t move out of sight because losing it was worse than staring in fear.

It didn’t move, just standing there, staring down.

A rush of anger hit you out of nowhere – this fucker was trespassing on your property, scaring you stupid. You’d locked this prick out when you’d come home, and so he thought it was okay to skulk around your land, trying to frighten you?

Fuck that. No. Enough of this.

You wiped your hands on the dish towel to the side, instinctively reaching for the biggest knife in your knife block on the counter before running to the back door. You unbolted the top and bottom, and ran out into the evening with a surge of adrenaline.

“HEY!” you yelled, like you had when you’d seen him in your hallway, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

The figure didn’t move, still staring down as you approached quickly from behind. You stayed back a few feet, clutching the knife in your hand and ready to use it should this fucker try anything…

“Answer me…” your voice shook with fear, no matter how hard you tried to keep it steady and strong. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing on my land?”

A dark chuckle… The shoulders of the figure shook with his laugh, and it only pissed you off more.

“Your land? Interesting…” the figure muttered, his voice thick with a heavy Italian accent and gruff like he hadn’t spoken aloud in decades.

“I-I’ll call the cops…” you threatened, “just leave and no one gets hurt.”

His head cocked up at that, turning to look over his shoulder. For the first time, you got a small glimpse at his face, and the eye that gleamed brighter than it should. He seemed to be smirking, as if this situation was somehow funny to him.

“You would hurt me, cara mio?” he teased, his eyes flitting down to the knife you held extended towards him. “I did not have you pegged for a violent woman.”

It caught you off guard, the way he spoke to you. Was he trying to belittle you? Make you question your own self-defense to weaken you? You wouldn’t let that happen.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him defiantly, ignoring his comments and still wielding the knife.

“Paying my respects,” he grumbled, as if he were annoyed by an intrusive question.

“Th-this is my property, and you need to leave. I’ve seen you in my house, and you need to go before I call the cops,” you repeated yourself, your voice shaking.

“Why did you buy this house?” he asked, frustratingly ignoring your warnings.

“None of your business-“

“It is my business,” he snapped, “This house belonged to my family,” he span on the spot, finally facing you. His expression was intimidating, his eyes – now visibly different colours – were boring into you, just begging you to try something. “These are their graves. This is their house. It does not, and will never, belong to you.”

“Well you might want to tell the bank that, Mr, uh…” his name escaped you, forgetting the surname that you’d uncovered weeks ago on the graves behind him.

“Emeritus,” he smiled sadistically. “Terzo Emeritus, and this house is mine.”

He took a step closer to you, and naturally you stepped back in fear. The grip on the knife readjusted with the second step he took, readying yourself to use it should you need to.

“But a pretty thing like you? I’m willing to share…”

“Don’t make another move…” you jabbed the knife forward a little, raising your voice in an attempt to appear threatening. “I know there’s some creep going around town, snatching people… And now you’re here, in MY house, threatening me?”

“I think I’m the one being threatened, cara mio…”

“SHUT UP!” you yelled. “Leave, now. Or I will call the fucking police.”

His hands, encased in leather gloves, shot up in a defensive pose, his smile widening sickeningly. He stopped approaching, but his morbidly beautiful eyes slowly scanned you from head to toe, taking you in, analysing. For a moment, you were locked in a stalemate, staring each other down. You thought maybe he was sizing you up, waiting for the opportune moment to strike like a predator hunting its prey.   

But instead of pouncing like you’d expected, he turned back around and knelt down before the graves.

“Penso che forse lei non è così affezionato a me come io sono di lei, non siete d'accordo? (I think maybe she is not as fond of me as I am of her, don’t you agree?)” he mumbled, as if the dead could hear every word. “Non temere, non lascerò che questa bellezza mi scaccia, i miei fratelli. Questa è casa nostra e imparerà a godere della mia compagnia. (Fear not, I will not let this beauty drive me away, my brothers. This is our house, and she will learn to enjoy my company.)”

“W-what did you say?” you stuttered, still wielding the knife. He looked briefly over his shoulder at you.

“Non vedevo tanta bellezza da più di un secolo, (I haven’t seen such beauty in over a century,)” he spoke to the graves again. “Non dal mio esilio e ritorno. (not since my exile and return.)”

You were growing more and more frustrated as he spoke his mother tongue to thin air, waiting for him to do something – even if that something were to force you to defend yourself. This was just… bizarre.

He stood again, kissing the tips of his gloves and pressing them to each headstone, save for one on the end. Why he missed that one, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. He seemed to be saying a goodbye, as if he were actually going to leave upon your request.

“Until next time, bella cosa (pretty thing),” he bowed his head a little and began to walk towards you, giving you a wide berth but keeping his eyes trained on you at all times. You figured he was simply making sure you didn’t try to stab him as he passed, walking himself out of the gates of your land and a little ways down the street before he turned back to you, and blew you a slow, calculated flying kiss.

As he continued to walk away down the lane that stretched towards town, you quickly glanced back at the graves, noting now that the names did indeed all share a common family name.

Primo Emeritus. Secondo Emeritus. Copia Emeritus. Terzo Emeritus.

Your eyes widened. You were sure that was the name he just told you belonged to him? That wasn’t possible… Such an unusual name, and he’d made no mention of being a ‘Terzo Junior’, or ‘Terzo the second’. And it was the only grave he didn’t plant his kiss to…

You span around in the grass beneath your feet, looking out down the lane you’d just seen him walking down and yet, he was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t in the fields that lined the lane into town, and the road stretched with no bends for at least two miles, no obstructions at all. You should be able to still see him walking, running even if he had chosen to. He hadn’t had time to vanish like he had, in mere seconds.

Your head whipped back to the grave – his grave? – before you shook your head of the nonsense that he might well be some kind of spirit who can appear or disappear in the blink of an eye. These ‘occurrences’ were nothing more than fuel for a spooky story around a campfire. None of this was true, you’d just… lost sight of him, or misjudged the view of the road. Something, anything, had to explain this away.

But it didn’t stop you from bolting back through the garden and into the kitchen, slamming the door behind you with the knife still in hand and bolting the door shut, heart thumping in your ears.

You slept with that knife under your mattress that night.

His face haunted you, both day and night. No matter what you did, or how you tried to refocus your mind, to fixate on only your renovations, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. In the few days since the incident by the graves, you were questioning your sanity more than ever.

Had that even been real? Was he real? He couldn’t possibly be… The way he disappeared in an instant every time you saw him led you only to the conclusion that you’d lost your mind, officially. You must have concocted this spectre after seeing his name on the grave when you’d cleared the landscaping around them. You told yourself that over and over again.

That became harder to do though, when you’d spot him out by the graves again not even a week after the first time. You’d been installing some small curtains to the window by the kitchen sink for you to hide the site from view when you’d spooked yourself at the mere thought of that night, and yet there he was again.

You stared in shock, frozen and motionless, as he turned his head towards the house, looking it up and down, before his gaze settled on you in the window. He raised his hand, but before he could gesture a wave at you, you shut the new curtains and obscured his view, darting out of the kitchen and hiding in the dining room still full of packed boxes.

Your heart pounded as it always did when your imagination ran away with you and spooked you like this. You shook your head, told yourself to snap the fuck out of it.

But then you saw him every evening.

Always by the graves, always turning to wave at you, no matter from which window you were watching him from. You did your best to hide, to ignore it and tell yourself he wasn’t real. You just had to keep going, to continue your work and maybe find a good psychologist in town one of these days.

This plan of wilful ignorance was barely working, but what else could you do? Giving this apparition any kind of attention would surely only make it worse, whether he was a figment of your imagination or a genuine ghost from the past.

Ignoring him was hard. There was such a large part of you that wanted more information about him, to learn where he’d come from, why he haunted you. He was intriguing, if terrifying. The face that followed your dreams, both day and night, was starting to become all too familiar, all too comfortable. If it weren’t for that ghostly white eye of his, he’d have quite a charming face. His glare wouldn’t seem so dark if it wasn’t pierced by the white glow, and perhaps he wouldn’t be so threatening… Home invasion and grave haunting aside.

Still, you did your best to continue as normal. The renovations continued, and before long you had stripped every room upstairs of the aged and withered wallpaper that desperately needed replacing. Finally, you could start decorating to your own tastes – starting with your bedroom.

After a trip to the nearest hardware store, and a delivery of wooden slats, you got busy creating the wainscoting that was to run along the bottom three feet of the wall in your bedroom. The idea was to panel it, and then paint everything a beautiful deep shade of royal purple. The hardwood floor was going to be stained a dark shade throughout the entire upstairs, but you’d managed to source a stunning Persian rug in a purple that matched the aesthetic you were hoping for. The furniture – the items you’d had moved to the basement – were already perfect for the room, matching the bed that had also been left behind. You’d chosen gold metal accents to replace the handles on the wardrobe and chest of drawers, and sourced lamps and trinkets in the same gold to match.

After no longer than a week, you’d completed the room with a mix and match of modern and Victorian gothic aesthetics. Frankly, it looked like a Pinterest board – but it was so inherently you.

When you’d laid the finishing touches to the room, you stood in the middle of it, proudly looking around with a wide grin on your face at the beautifully finished space. That estate agent couldn’t see the potential of this house, but you had the second you stepped foot inside. And whilst it was only one room, the rest of the house still just the bare skeletal bones of a home, this was a huge victory.

“I like what you’ve done with my bedroom, bella cosa (pretty thing).”

Your body stiffened at the sound of his voice, coming from the doorway behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head and willing for the nightmare to stop. You hadn’t heard him, you were imagining it. You had to be.

Except, you heard footsteps behind you, on the hardwood floors. His shoes clacked with every step, slow and deliberate as if he was taking in his surrounding, inspecting your work. When you braved opening your eyes, that’s exactly what he was doing.

He really was here.

“Grazie for keeping my furniture, cara mio. I was always fond of it, and you’ve given it new life,” he said, ogling the wardrobe as he dragged his gloved fingertips along the edge of the wood.

“And purple, too…” he span on his heels to face you, a warm smile crossing his dark features, “My favourite colour.”

“How did you get in here?” you asked, voice shaking as you watched him look around the room.

“I told you, cara, this was my house. I know every entrance and exit there is,” his mismatched eyes settled on you again, “even the ones you don’t.”

He was lying. There were only three ways in or out of the house, and they were all locked – bolted, latched, even the cellar doors in the basement were chained shut.

“This is not your house,” you argued, spitting the words through grit teeth. “You need to leave. I will call the police.”

His eyes darkened again, a veil of threat overcoming him.

“And I told you, this has always been my house.”

You weighed your options. Your phone was on the kitchen counter downstairs; if you were fast enough, you could run down to it and out the back door before he caught you, calling the police as you ran along the road into town. If you didn’t fuck it up, you could even lock him in, taking the key from the back door and locking it shut behind you, leaving him gift wrapped for the cops.

You just had to be quick.

And you tried, you really did. You bolted out of the bedroom, running down the length of the long hall towards the top of the stairs. You hadn’t heard him behind you, his shoes making no noise behind you and so you imagined he’d been left stunned by your sudden departure, giving you a head start.

So you hadn’t expected a pair of large, strong hands to grip you by the tops of your arms at the top of the stairs, and slam your body into the wall. A sharp pain radiated up through your spine, but you cried out in fear more so than pain when you realised he’d trapped you, palms flat against the wall by your head and arms encasing you.

Instinct had you closing your eyes, squeezing them shut and waiting for the next blow, or for this nightmare to end. You could feel a cool breeze against your cheek as you turned your head away from the man trapping you, as if his breath were ice cold.

“Look at me, cara mio,” he ordered, his voice deep and slow. You whimpered beneath him, trying to plant yourself flat against the wall to get as far away from him as possible. “Per favore, I want to see you.”

You wanted to deny him, but his silence said he’d wait for an eternity until you did. And you didn’t want to find out just how aggressive he could be, if given the chance. So slowly, you opened your eyes, looking at him through your peripheral vision before you turned your head ever so slightly.

His face was so close to yours, hovering above you. His eyes flickered across your features, like he was looking for something, or maybe mapping every feature and committing it to his memory for some nefarious reason.

This close to him, you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same… You avoided his eyes, noting instead how his skin seemed pale for an Italian man, but soft and smooth without a single imperfection. His jawline was chiselled, like you’d cut your palm if you tried to slap him. He had frown lines in his forehead that came with a life of frustration, yet forked lines from the outer corners of his eyes that came with a life of happiness; neither made him look haggard, yet showed he wasn’t quite as youthful as you.

Despite his pale complexion, his lips remained a soft pink. They were full, parted as you both silently examined each other up close. That breeze you felt was most definitely his breath, which you’d expected to be warmer but given the situation, perhaps it was your fear adding to the chill.

Running out of features to scan, you landed on his eyes; the eyes that haunted you more than any you’d seen. At first glance, the colour mismatch was disconcerting. It would put anybody on edge, perhaps make them wonder if he’d fallen victim to some kind of accident or birth defect but the more you stared, the more you fell into them. You couldn’t place why, but they seemed older than the rest of his features, holding more wisdom than you might have expected.

“Are you real?” you asked him, logic and reason battling against the very real fear that you were imagining him, that he was some kind of spirit that haunted his family home you’d never be rid of. But you’d felt him. His hands had been the ones to throw you against this wall, his body was imposing on yours as he trapped you. He was solid, flesh and blood. But there was an innate and visceral fear that something was wrong.

At your question, his eyes met yours, and his lips quirked into a playful smile.

“I am very real, cara mio,” he assured, taking his hand from beside your head and wrapping his gloved fingers around your wrist. He lifted your palm, gently laying it flat against his chest. “Can you not feel me?”

You could. He was solid, like you’d now discovered and you could feel his heartbeat beneath his shirt. Still, something felt wrong. He had no body heat like a normal living man through a simple cotton shirt should, and the heartbeat you felt was significantly slower than it should be.

“Who are you?” you whimpered, palm to his chest without even an attempt to remove it.

“I told you who I was. Terzo Emeritus.”

“J-junior?” you asked him. His brow creased in confusion, missing what you were asking entirely. “Terzo Junior? The grave, it… it says Terzo.”

Now he understood, sensing your confusion and chuckling lightly at it.

“Just Terzo,” he told you, gentle grip still on your wrist. You could pull your hand away if you tried, and yet, you kept it in place as if his own slow heartbeat was somehow reducing your own to a more comfortable pace.

You were at a loss for words now, brain running far too quickly to settle on something suitable to say to him. But at least now you had grown aware of your palm still settled on his chest, prompting you to rip it from his grip expecting him to put up some kind of resistance, to which you met none.

“What do you want from me?” you asked him, unable to tear your eyes from him in the same manner you’d torn your wrist from him.

“Perhaps only your company,” he shrugged slightly, raising an eyebrow in suggestion. “To exist with you, here.”

“This is my house…”

“Sí, so you keep saying.” A beat of silence passed as you thought of what he was truly asking, what that even meant.

“I want you to stay away from me,” you insisted, finding a shred of strength within you. Terzo took in a deep breath through his nose, letting it go as he studied you.

“I don’t think I can do that, cara mio,” he sighed. His admission had tears forming in your waterline, a new fear that you wouldn’t be able to shake this man’s seemingly growing obsession with you. All you wanted was peace, solitude and an escape but you’d fallen into a web, and the spider was crawling towards you agonisingly slowly.

You took a few deep breaths, each exhale shaky. You just wanted him to go, to leave you alone. Maybe this had been his house once before, but it was yours now, and he couldn’t stay here. He already seemed infatuated with you, if the way he looked at you now was anything to go by. His eyes drank you in like he was a starving man, and you were the ripest of fruits for him to devour.

“Please, I just want to be left alone…” you begged, tilting your head back against the wall and letting the tears fall as you squeezed your eyes shut, suppressing a sob in your chest.

Silence descended, and suddenly the weighted oppression of his presence vanished with a swift breeze. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel he wasn’t entrapping you anymore but when you opened them, you saw he wasn’t anywhere near you at all.

He’d vanished again, faster than a snap of your fingers.

And you were left wondering if any of that, once again, was real or a fantasy of your own making. You were so sure you felt a solid body, a real heartbeat. You weren’t a scientist, nor a paranormal specialist but you would assume if he was the spirit of the man buried in your back yard, you wouldn’t be able to feel him in such a way.

But now he had vanished, the feeling he left with you felt very much like an oppressive presence, a lingering energy. Now he left you with the anxiety of another visit without warning, another appearance to trick you into believing your delusions were true.

You expected to see him again.

Another week passed, a surface layer of anxiety lingering persistently. All you could do was focus your attention on your project, doing your absolute best to continue as normal. Now you had finished the master bedroom, you moved onto the upstairs bathroom, which had needed gutting and refitting.

You’d had a small team of plumbers in to replace the pipes through the house just as you had electricians to rewire the place before you’d moved in, and until now, all you’d had was the bare bones of a shiny new bathroom. You’d installed some counters with a new sink, the gold hardware matching around the bathroom. The marble top was a beautifully tasteful black with gold veins to match the black wood of the cabinets.

Even in here, you stuck to your darker aesthetic. The walls were painted a beautiful matte black, the floor tiled with black and white squares. It took you all week, two of those days on tiling alone. But it was something to focus on, a room that you knew would be frequently used and so needed to be finished now your bedroom was complete.

When it came to adding the finishing touches, it felt like the cherry on top of another beautifully made cake. Your house was quickly turning into a showroom, a place that could be featured in home renovation magazines had you been willing to open it up.

But already, you’d had one too many visitors in your home for your liking…

By the end of the week, you were exhausted – more so than usual. The anxiety of feeling watched, monitored, stalked was taking its toll on you, and you needed some respite. For all you knew, Terzo Emeritus could show up at any moment to frighten, repulse and excite you. It was weighing heavy, and your mind was just as spent as your body was.

As you headed to bed that evening, you allowed yourself some self-care in the bathroom you’d now finished. The point of renovating this house was to enjoy it, right? So why deny yourself that…

You filled the new clawfoot tub with hot water, brimming with bubbles and scents that had you falling into a state of total calm before you’d even sunk into it. Your tiny little radio joined you in the bathroom, tuned to a station that played nothing but classical, and on a bath shelf you’d bought you rested some candles, a book and a full glass of red wine to enjoy as you pampered yourself.

Sinking into the water, you relished in the feeling of being submerged in its warmth. Almost instantly, the tension in your shoulders melted away, eyes closing in bliss as your head slipped back to rest against the tub’s edge. You couldn’t help but let out a hum of satisfaction, the relief and pleasure accumulating in a soft moan.

As you let your body relax, a noise caught your attention; a floorboard, creaking just outside of the bathroom door. Your eyes shot open, your body reacting and freezing in place. However when you let your eyes roam over to the mirror above the bathroom sink, you saw him…

By force of habit, you’d left the bathroom door ajar, a small gap just large enough to be able to see that ghostly eye of his in the dim hallway, and the outline of him peeking through the door. Your heart rate hammered in your chest as it always did when you saw him, but you remained still. For now, he wasn’t making any kind of move, and he didn’t seem to be aware you had seen him.

But he was definitely there, watching you as you bathed. It was violating, invasive, perverse… And yet, you did nothing about it.

Instead, you sank further underneath the bubbles, reaching for your wine glass with your eyes trained on the mirror. You took a sip, relishing in the taste and releasing another satisfied moan as if putting on a damn show for him. What possessed you to do so, you had no idea, but he’d been tormenting your mind for weeks now – why couldn’t you do the same to him?

Reaching for your loofah, you dunked it under the water and sat upright, back exposed to him. You stretched your arm out, running the loofah along your skin in a slow and deliberate manner. You were careful to never expose yourself too much, but to tease with the expanse of pretty, bare skin to conjure enough suggestion in his mind that would leave a man desperate to see more.

When you ran the loofah up the length of your leg just above the water, you heard the floorboards creak again, like he was fidgeting on the other side of the door. You checked in the mirror to see if he was still there, and he most certainly was, but you were having the effect on him you hoped for.

Perhaps you stretched it out a little longer than necessary, running the loofah over your body more than needed but you were making your point. Your wicked little mind was ticking over, aware he could only see what you wanted him to; your shoulders and head above the bubbles from behind. Do you dare to cross the line…?

Perhaps the thrill of being watched was having an effect on you too, because you came to the conclusion that yes, you did dare to cross the line.

You lay back against the tub again, using the loofah now to run across your shoulders and down between the valley of your breasts, which the bubbles were barely covering in your relaxed position. You trailed the loofah further down, reaching over your stomach and between your legs.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you brushed the loofah over your core, now realising that washing yourself so intimately – and being watched while doing so – had aroused you more than you’d first thought. A flash of pleasure had you squeezing your eyes shut again, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grazing over your centre with added pressure, hips rocking in the water.

Before long, you abandoned the loofah all together, and from where he was stood, Terzo could see it float and bob up to the surface which had him drawing only one conclusion; you were definitely not just washing yourself.

You worked slowly, methodically. It had been so long since you’d let go like this, since you’d last touched yourself at all and you wanted to savour it, to enjoy it. You were in no rush, working your fingers in gentle and slow circles over your clit under the water. The moans that you let slip weren’t at all restrained or controlled; for all you knew, you were alone, right? So why would you hold back?

 It was impossible not to keep checking the mirror, to make sure he was still there and every time, he was. You couldn’t help but let your imagination run away with you, picturing him entering the room, kneeling down beside the tub and reaching his hand between your legs for you. You pictured him taking you from the bathroom, into the bedroom and having his way with you, dark, handsome and brooding as he always had been.

You imagined his hands beneath his gloves, his bare fingertips tracing patterns into your skin, his full lips trailing kisses down your still wet body. What did he look like under those layers of his? How would he feel under your own fingertips? How would he feel inside you?

But Terzo made no such move. Instead, he watched silently from the shadows, and each time you caught that glimpse of him your hips bucked towards your hand until eventually, you couldn’t hold back anymore and allowed yourself to fall over the precipice.

Your orgasm was powerful, thanks to not only the lack of self love recently, but also, the arousal of becoming an exhibitionist. It rippled through your body like the water around you, and had you crying out wordlessly as you sank further into the water up to your chin. You hadn’t felt so good in a long time, and it worked perfectly to relieve the remainder of that tension in your body.

As you came down from the orgasm, you dared to glance back at the mirror only to find that he’d vanished. Another little disappearing act, only this time, you found yourself free of the anxiety that usually came with that, and instead smug with the knowledge you might have got one over on him for a change. You’d teased him to a point that he couldn’t tear his eyes from you until it was over, and for a moment you felt truly powerful. At least, if he were real… and not a fantasy you’d concocted for yourself. There was still the very real possibility that all of this was just your own madness and loneliness, and you were just now starting to lean into the delusions as a form of self-preservation.

For a little while longer, you stayed put in the tub, enjoying your book, the rest of your wine and the music in the background. Of course, you kept checking on the mirror to see if maybe he’d return for another look, but nothing. It was twisted, the way your stomach drooped in disappointment each time, but you brushed it off. You were sure before long, you would see him again – whether real or fictional.

Once you had finished in the bathroom, draining the tub and rinsing the suds away, you floated back into your bedroom wrapped in a bathrobe and ready to sink into bed with your book. You pottered around, changing into some pyjamas and crawling under the sheets when a glimpse of colour caught the light beside your bed, earning your attention.

Hanging from your bedside lamp was a pendant, and most certainly not one of yours. They were stored in a jewellery box atop the dresser, not hung on display like this… but it was beautiful, and you reached over to lay the charm in your palm and inspect it properly.

It was simple, yet elegant. The charm was shaped like a water drop, except the stone was purple; perhaps amethyst or a rarer sapphire but it caught the light exceptionally. Surrounding it, were smaller stones that resembled diamonds, but your knowledge of precious stones couldn’t confirm whether they were in fact real, or if this were costume jewellery. It didn’t matter though, it was beautiful as it was, sparkling under your bedside lamp.

You had no idea how it got here, but you could hazard a guess. It had been left for you like a gift, delicately placed in a position that would get your attention. There was only one person it could have come from, and as you played with the unusual pendant under the light, you began to realise that maybe he wasn’t the figment of your imagination you were trying to pass him off as…

The next morning, you had a revived energy, a spring in your step from a decent night’s sleep. The time spent on self care seemed to do the job, relieving the stress enough for you to be ready to tackle the downstairs living room next. Truthfully, your new found vigour may have also had something to do with a large part of you giving in to the idea that Terzo was not a fantasy, he’d been very real this whole time.

You still had no idea who he was, or how he was a real person. You were beginning to think that perhaps spirits did walk the earth, just by how he seemed to appear and disappear on a dime. But you remembered the heartbeat, the solid chest under your palm…

There were so many questions. Who was he? A descendant of the family this house once belonged to, and rested in your garden? How does he keep getting in? He mentioned entrances you might not know about, but you’d searched thoroughly, or so you thought. Was he obsessed with you? Stalking you?

Was he dangerous?

His behaviour was most definitely shady – people don’t just come and go in other people’s homes as they please. But you’d never reported him, no matter how much you’d threatened it. To begin with you’d hoped the threat of calling the cops would be enough to deter him, but he always came back. And at every opportunity, he could have done something to hurt you, yet never did. Even last night, you were in a completely vulnerable position. And whilst peeping on you in the bath was absolutely a violation and a crime in itself, all he did was watch. And you let him.

His existence was confusing, but you’d surrendered to the notion that he did in fact exist; and honestly, that in itself was quite freeing. It felt like some kind of weight had lifted, and it made beginning work on the living room easier to stomach.

This room had suffered in the years the house sat in decay. The old windows had made way for black mould to grow around it, and whilst you’d had the windows replaced since, the mould was still present. Your first job was to clean the walls and potentially replace some of the floorboards, if the moisture had taken hold of the wood.

Armed with a bucket of diluted bleach and a sponge, you got to work scrubbing at the walls and the large window sill that you were planning to convert into a cosy nook; a perfect place to sit and watch the world go by, book in hand. Your little radio sat on the mantelpiece of the stunning fireplace you were going to bring back to life, blaring out the same cycle of tunes you were used to now you’d tuned it back from the classical of last night.

You let yourself zone out as you scrubbed at the mould, singing along to the radio now you knew most of the songs blaring from it. It was a wonder you weren’t sick of them yet, but you still hadn’t got around to unpacking your record player that was supposed to have a home in this particular room. First, you had to finish it though, of course.

As one song ended, the radio host announced a lunchtime bulletin. By this time you were only half listening, fixated on the satisfying cleaning job.

“It’s 1pm, you’re listening to 108.3fm – here’s your lunchtime bulletin. Police have made a shocking discovery after the disappearance of 25 year old Amanda Riley just three days ago.”

Your ears perked up at the news, now getting your attention. Another one? This was concerning, terrifying even. And now they’d made a discovery?

“Human remains were discovered just outside of town in a wooded area yesterday, which police have now confirmed are that of Amanda. Family members formally identified the body, and police have given a statement to locals urging caution and vigilance. Sheriff Ansel had this to say…

“‘We believe Ms. Riley’s murder to be connected to the string of disappearances in the area in the last few months. The victim was found with all her personal belongings still on her person, including wallet, cash, ID and mobile phone, however when the family came to formally identify the body, they noted that the only thing taken from her was her unusual pendant…’”

Your blood turned cold. The hand still scrubbing at the wall froze in place, and slowly, you turned to look at the radio as if it was speaking directly to you.

“‘The pendant is recognisable as a purple amethyst in a teardrop shape, surrounded by smaller white diamonds. While the item is valuable, we believe that the killer may have taken such a personal item as a trophy, which could be part of their M.O. Still, we are urging the public to please keep an eye out to see if we can trace this item, either in pawn shops or perhaps being sold online. We ask that you not panic, and please get in touch if you note anything suspicious. Thank you.’”

Your hand dropped the sponge back into the bucket of diluted bleach, drifting up to your chest where that very same pendant was sat against your skin. You’d put it on that morning, barely even thinking about it, just because you liked it.

But he’d given it to you. Left it out in the open for you, like he was proud of it. He’d given you a dead girl’s fucking necklace. And there was only one way he could have got it…

You stood up, running into the kitchen and colliding with the sink before your body displayed it’s disgust by vomiting violently. All those unanswered questions, and yet, one of them had been answered.

Who was he? A murderer.

As you coughed and spluttered your breakfast into the sink, your mind raced. She wasn’t the only missing person, just the first body to have been found. There were others. So many others, for nine months. Thirteen missing people, one of which found dead with this fucking necklace missing.

You felt dizzy, like a wave of vertigo hit you in an instant. You hobbled over to the fridge, clutching at the kitchen counter to keep yourself steady and rooting around for a bottle of water. Your hands shook as you unscrewed the lid, taking a sip to rinse out your mouth as you stumbled back to the sink to spit. You took another sip, this time swallowing and trying your best to focus on the sensation of the cool water trickling down your throat. But your head was too busy.

Trophies. He was taking trophies? Why? This sick bastard must enjoy it, he must relish in his kills, wanting something to remember each one by. What else had he taken…? And then you remembered.

The box under the floorboards.

You slammed the water bottle down on the side, a jet propelling out onto the work surface from the force. Before you knew it your feet were moving of their own accord, up the stairs and down the hall. You were unsteady, tripping into the walls as you walked. You needed to know, but you didn’t want to.

Stumbling into the bare room, you fell to your knees with a hard smack where the floorboard was loose. Shaking hands lifted the plank, reaching underneath to check the box was still there; it was. You pulled it from its hiding place setting it down on the floor while you racked up the courage to open it again.

In one quick motion, you unlocked the latch and flung the lid open like ripping off a band aid. All the items were still there, just the way you’d left them, including the watch that had made you question them in the first place. It looked like it could have been vintage, save for the date wound to March of this year.

You looked at the collection of random items; the watch, the cuff links, the old red lipstick, the cheap bracelet, a skeleton key, a tiny used bottle of perfume, a red comb, an old butterfly hairpin, a daisy pin badge, a rusty swiss army knife, a fountain pen and a vintage zippo lighter.

Twelve items.

With the necklace, that made thirteen. Thirteen items. Thirteen victims. Thirteen trophies.

“I should have hidden them better, eh?”

The sound of his voice had your body stiffening in fear, skin instantly peppered with goosebumps. You hadn’t even begun to think about confronting him or having to see him. You weren’t sure what you were going to do yet, but you’d have hoped to have time to calm yourself down and think rationally about your options.

But you were going to have to do this ad-hoc.

“I don’t often make mistakes, bella cosa, but when I do… They haunt me. I suppose my kindness is coming back to bite me on the culo (ass).”

He sounded surprisingly calm for a man who’d just been found out to be a serial killer. It unnerved you, and no part of you could figure out his next move. You were a sitting duck.

Slowly, and carefully, you stood up, turning around to look at him. Part of you worried if you startled him with sudden movement, he might strike like any predator would its prey.

He was stood in the doorway, leaning up against the wood with his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks, coat pushed back behind them. He looked far too casual, his face hinting at neither anger nor humour – nowhere on the emotional spectrum.

“Kindness?” you asked, ruminating over his use of the word. “There’s no kindness in what you’ve done.” Perhaps it was dangerous to speak so ill of the murderer in front of you, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His neutral expression darkened in a warning glare, his chin tipping up so he was looking down on you, adding to his intimidating aura.

“Not everybody deserves kindness, cara mio. Some deserve far less,” he challenged, pushing himself off the doorframe and taking slow steps into the room, keeping a distance from you still.

“No one deserves that…”

Terzo scoffed, looking off to gaze out of the window and shaking his head as if what you said offended him in some way.

“So now you know,” he shrugged, looking back towards you, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets. You kept an eye on them, mind racing with all kinds of possibilities – he could have a weapon of some sorts hidden from view. You needed to be on your guard. “I suppose you will report me now, sí?”

There was a playful glint in his eyes that you didn’t miss, like he was taunting you, waving a red flag to a bull. If you said you were, would he attack you too? But surely he couldn’t simply take your word for it if you said you wouldn’t either… Truthfully, you weren’t sure what you were going to do. Your only instinct was to run – fast.

You let his question linger in the air, far too much silence going by as he watched you, assuming you’d frozen in fear. He hadn’t expected you to dart towards the door, your only goal to get downstairs and out of the house as quickly as possible. So when you did exactly that, he watched for a split second, anger snapping inside him.

You barely made it out of the room before you felt a sudden force slam you forwards and into the wall of the corridor. A scream erupted from your chest, blood-curdling and gut-wrenching to anyone who would have heard it – but out here? No one would. How he’d moved so fast, you had no idea, but he had both of your wrists behind your back, and his whole body weight held you tightly against the wall.

“You are leaving so soon?” he asked, leaning in to speak directly in your ear as you writhed under him to try and escape, but his grip was too strong even without him putting seemingly any effort into it. “I was just getting used to you living in my house…”

“This is MY house,” you growled, gritting your teeth and avoiding his eyes.

“Then why should you want to leave? Are you scared I might hurt you, cara mio?”

Tears spilled from your waterline, giving away your fear and distress. Of course you were scared he was going to hurt you. He’d already hurt so many…

When he received no answer from you other than a sob in defeat and the stilling of your limbs as you gave up fighting his grip, he manhandled you until you span around, your back now against the wall just like it had been the other day.

“Th-this isn’t real… You’re not real…” you whispered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in the hopes you might wake up from your nightmare. You did not.

“I’m quite real, cara. We’ve been over this, no?” he lifted your wrist again like he had the other day, this time settling your hand delicately on his cheek and holding it there with his much bigger palm. “See?”

His gentility confused you, and when you opened your eyes, you saw a strange softness in his face. For a moment, you almost thought his expression was one of admiration. It didn’t matter what it was, but you couldn’t look away. This man – this serial killer – was being so gentle with you, his eyes cast over you like he was utterly obsessed with you.

“Why?” you whispered, more tears spilling over your cheeks. Still, you held his, despite his grip on your hand lessening ever so slightly. You wanted to understand, talk him down maybe just enough to let you go. You wanted to appeal to the softness you saw in him.

“I have no choice,” he said flatly, almost with a hint of shame. But that only crossed the wires in your mind more.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“I choose them carefully… They are not good people, cara. They have ruined others lives, even taken them and I-“ he stopped himself, looking down at the floor in shame. Your brows creased together, trying to piece your thoughts into coherency.

“It’s always a choice,” you started to argue back, softly so as not to raise any more rage within him in such a precarious position such as the one you found yourself in beneath him. But his head snapped back up nonetheless, his hand gripping onto yours and throwing it back down beside you. He kept you caged beneath him still, hands planted firmly on the wall.

“I assure you, bella ragazza (pretty girl), there is no choice. It is me or them.”

Slowly, he raised his head from where he’d stared at the floorboards between your feet. His eyes watched you closely as he tilted his head back a little, and his lips parted until you could clearly see two very white, very sharp fangs protruding from under his top lip.

For a moment you didn’t react at all, calculating what you were seeing. His hands hadn’t moved, so he hadn’t put them in himself. You’d seen him so many times, and up close too, and never saw them before… They had to be real. He had fangs.

“That’s impossible…” you whispered, “there’s no such thing as-“

“Vampires?” he finished your sentence for you, “I’m sorry to shatter your illusion of a perfect world, cara mio, but I can assure you, there certainly is.”

Finally, your survival instincts kicked in, adrenaline pumping through your veins almost in an instant. You shoved your hands against his chest and pushed with all the strength you had, trying to get him away from you, to preserve yourself. All this time you had felt like prey, and it had been instinct all along. You were prey.

Your shove did nothing. He remained unmoving, like stone encasing you against the wall. You thrashed your arms around, trying to escape him but it was completely useless. You were already trapped, and at the mercy of a real vampire.

“I’m sorry, cara mio, but you will not overcome my strength nor my speed. This is useless, I assure you.” His voice had no hint of patronising, instead of genuine sorrow. It felt as if he knew he had to kill you now, but he didn’t want to kill you. You gave up, your fists balling up against his chest as you lay your head back against the wall, out of breath and sobbing as you accepted your fate.

“Please… don’t kill me, Terzo…” you wept, head lolling forward to look into his eyes for what you thought might be the last time.

His brow was creased, his lips parted in horror as he looked back at you. He raised his gloved hand and wiped at the tracks on your cheek. “I don’t wish to kill you, cara mio… You understand, no? I must kill to stay alive, but not you – never you.”

You barely registered what he was saying before you were shooting questions at him again, needing to know more, to understand why he chose those people. Why he kept their trophies…

“Why them? Why did you choose them? They were innocent, just like me. Why did they deserve that?” you sobbed, your chest heaving as he held your cheek, still caging you against the wall.

“The girl they found? What the polizia (police) don’t know is she was behind the wheel of an intentional hit and run a few years ago. The store clerk a few weeks back? You do not want to see what was on his hard drive. All of them, vile humans. There is more evil in this world than you could possibly fathom, tesoro. They even tasted different…” he shrivelled his face in disgust, “but it keeps me alive, and my conscience semi-clear.”

The shock of his revelation did nothing to help your racing heart or foggy mind, processing everything far slower than you would like in this tumultuous situation.

“Suppose that was true, why do you keep their things?” you prodded further – there must be some part of him that enjoys it. Even if only the fact he were proud of removing scum from the earth, if that were true.

“Because I carry their souls with me… No matter how evil, they are people, and I take their life. Each one is a burden, and I must never forget that.”

There was genuine sorrow, genuine regret there. You could see it. But it changed nothing, he was still a murderer, a monster. And you were still trapped underneath him, literally backed up against a wall and inches away from deadly threat.

“But… it’s sick, Terzo! They’re kept like trophies, like you’re proud of what you do to them!” you protested. He hollowed his cheeks in annoyance, becoming more defensive as you accused him.

The hand that wiped your tears lowered to your neck, his fingertips tracing along the chain of the necklace you had yet to take off, until it reached the unusual pendant, where he played with it against your collarbone.

“And yet, you still wear it. You had time to take it off, if you were so disgusted by it. But here it is, looking so pretty around your… beautiful neck,” he sighed, his eyes roaming hungrily over the exposed skin he so clearly wanted to puncture and drink from. The fear in you started to rise again, your pulse that had just started to settle raising. More hot tears fell over your waterline as you took a deep, shaky breath.

“What… what do you want from me?” you pleaded, your voice trembling and squeaky. His eyes flickered up to yours, fingertips still playing with the pendant, grazing the skin so gently it left goosebumps. You would never admit to the thrill his touch seemed to be giving you, knowing what you know of him now.

But Terzo leaned in further, his hips meeting yours and pressing you further against the wall. The hand that had been keeping you caged against the wall all this time dropped to your waist, holding you just enough to send a wave of curious gratification through your abdomen. He was close enough that your noses would touch, should he tip his head down to you. You could feel his icy breath against your face again – a symptom of his state of undead, you now understood.

“I want you to love me, tesoro…” he confessed in a whisper, watching for your reaction.

“I only fear you,” you defied, unable to admit the curiosity his request sparked.

“Are they not the same?” His eyebrow arched up in question, waiting for your response. But honestly, you had none. You were dumbfounded, wondering what on earth he meant by that. Of course they weren’t the same, nothing about love and fear are the same. The attraction you had felt towards him in recent encounters was fleeting; a right place, right time kind of attraction. It had nothing to do with him, and now knowing what he was, it could never be him again.

Terzo understood your silence to be an internal monologue, a debate in your own mind. He pressed further, illustrating his point.

“Let me ask you, tesoro, does the thought of me make your hairs stand on end?” his fingertips grazed along the length of your collarbone, the grip on your waist squeezing slightly, “Does it make your stomach fill with the flutter of butterfly wings? Does it make your heart beat like the thrum of a hummingbird’s wings?”

You couldn’t deny it, but those were markers of fear as well as love. It didn’t mean they were synonymous. You refused to answer him.

“I can hear it, you know…” his hand flattened against your collarbone, “The pounding in your chest, the rushing of your blood through your veins. I hear them, working so hard when you are near me.”

Terzo leaned into your neck, his nose brushing against your jugular so tenderly as he breathed in deeply, enjoying your scent to the point of near intoxication. Little did you know, it was that scent that drew him out of hiding in the first place. He simply couldn’t stay away from you, and when he saw where the scent was coming from, saw your sheer beauty, he understood why you smelled as tempting as you did.

“Fear smells just like love to me, tesoro. It adds a sweetness to your already saccharine scent. Just like nectar appeals to a honey bee, you appeal to me much the same,” he continued to nuzzle his nose against your skin, his breath fanning over your collarbone. Every so often in his clumsy, inebriated state his lips would gently tickle the skin, sending a rush through you that now you were certain he could smell. “That nectar can be turned into honey, no? I wonder if I could do the same for you…”

You bit your lip, looking up towards the ceiling in an attempt to avoid his eyes that frankly were too hypnotic for their own good.

“They are all markers of fear, Terzo…” you whimpered. You felt his breath as he chuckled against your skin.

“Then tell me why I can smell the sweetest honey already pooling between your legs, cara mio…”

Your head snapped down to look at him, and you met his eyes already waiting for you, a smirk on his lips. You wanted to deny it, to slap him, to push him away from you but what was the point? He was right. There was no denying it. He could smell you.

The shame you felt, letting a monster like him have such an effect on you, was astronomical.

“Please…”  you pleaded; for what, you weren’t sure.

“What is it, cara mio? What can I give you?” he asked, straightening up and again cupping your cheek with his gloved hand, still holding your waist, still pressing his hips to yours. His lips were so close, all you could do was stare at them until you snapped yourself out of it, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Everything.”

It took no longer than a heartbeat for Terzo to process your answer, before his lips attached to yours so fast and hard you felt his fangs scrape against your bottom lip. A thrill zapped your core, and your balled up fists against his chest gripped the lapels of his coat to bring him impossibly close. You succumbed so quickly to him, desperate to feel his lips against yours.

While you were sure this feeling was not love, it was certainly not fear either. ‘Infatuation’ felt closer to the truth, borderline obsession just as Terzo had exhibited towards you. But denying it was futile now, and so instead, you leaned into it. The pair of you desperately held onto each other, kissing as if this was the only way you could get oxygen, and you’d been suffocating without each other.

Terzo started to move, trailing his passion down to your jawline, underneath your ear and down to your neck. Your heartrate quickened again, knowing that his mouth near your neck could go only one of two ways. Both options seemed to excite you in equal measures…

“W-will it hurt…?” you asked him, as you felt his fangs graze against your skin lightly, like he was holding himself back.

“Just for a second…” he panted like a dog laying out in the sun. And he wasn’t wrong, the pain would be momentary, his fangs emitting a small amount of venom that acts as an anaesthetic. That wasn’t the problem, and it wasn’t what stopped him in his tracks. “But I can’t…”

You cupped his cheeks, lifting his head to look him in the eye again. “What’s wrong?”

He looked as if he were in pain, his face screwed up in utter agony. He kept shaking his head, like he didn’t want to say it, like he was hiding a secret that would break him just to say aloud.

“If… If I do this, I might not be able to stop,” he whined, “and even if I do, how could I ever let you go after tasting you?”

You searched his eyes, saw the pain and the uncertainty in them. He truly didn’t want to hurt you, and right now he looked more vulnerable than you would think a creature of the night was capable of being.

“When you moved in I couldn’t leave you, I couldn’t stay away… And that was merely your smell, Tesoro. I’m afraid if I taste you, I could never leave you alone again.”

His admission floored you, and as much as the idea of giving yourself over to him willingly seemed to appeal to you, the rational part of your brain was still working enough to understand that that was a line that should not be crossed just yet.

“It’s okay… It’s okay,” you told him sincerely, comforting his distress before bringing his lips back to yours and resuming your heated exchange. Perhaps someday you would allow him that taste, a way of committing deeper than you could possibly comprehend at this stage. But there was a reason for the phrase “blood pact”, and it didn’t originate with the exchange of open wounds between two mortals.

As enthralled as he was in your lips, feeling your pulse beneath them tempting him, Terzo had to push the thought to the back of his mind. He couldn’t lose himself to the temptation so soon. He’d frighten you away if you saw him so feral, and he couldn’t let you disappear like everyone else in his life – not the only woman to ever have smelled so divine to him. Only he knew what that meant, that pull…  You were it for him. His obsession was unavoidable, you were his promised love.

It happened instantaneously for his kind, but for you? It would take time for you to see it, to feel what he felt. Human sense of smell was nowhere near as powerful, and so you could never know just by his scent that he was the one for you, the soul on the other end of the red string tied around your wrist.

To rid his mind of the temptation, he focussed on the moment at hand. His intense grip on your waste drifted over your hips and to the backs of your thighs until he was lifting them, using his hips to ground you against the wall so you wouldn’t fall. It was as if you were weightless to him, his inhuman strength making such light work of carrying you further down the hall and into your bedroom – his bedroom – until you both fell onto the bed.

No part of you thought for even a millisecond of stopping him, an intense need for him screaming from within you. You pushed his coat from his shoulders, diverting to his shirt buttons as soon as he began pulling at his sleeves to rid himself of the heavy wool. In no time at all, his chest was bare to you, peppered with dark hair that you’d expect from a man of Italian descent. You pulled him closer to you, reattaching your lips desperately.

His gloves disappeared as you kissed him, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the touch of his cold skin on yours, his hands sliding up under the hem of your shirt to hold you. He paused for a moment, searching your face for any sign his touch wasn’t welcome.

“Just cold…” you assured him, running your fingers through the dark locks of hair that had fallen over his face as he hovered above you.

“I, eh… sí, mi scusi, I am cold to the touch…” he apologised, a wave of insecurity flashing through his expression.

“I don’t mind,” you smiled sweetly, pulling him down with your hand woven into his hair and kissing his insecurity away. He regained his confidence, grip returning to your bare waist under your shirt and tightening with gratitude at your reassurance.

The way he kissed you was like worship, like he valued every second you allowed him to touch you, to be with you – and as he slowly began to undress you, his worship continued. He started with your shirt, pushing it up your abdomen and peppering the skin with more kisses as he exposed it. Over the curve of your breast peaking from above the cup of your bra, you felt the low rumble of a groan against your chest that was suppressed as he buried his face into your flesh. He was so gentle, so calculated in his motions and it was driving you crazy already.

Once your shirt was finally above your head and discarded somewhere to the side, he pulled the straps of your bra down, kissing along your shoulders and down your arms until he reached behind you to unclasp it. Your breasts bounced before him, and he immediately began to leave open mouthed kisses over them, laving his tongue over your nipples as they stood to attention under the chill of his lips. His free hand worked at your other breast, kneading like he was making the finest ricciarelli biscuit dough.

You couldn’t help the soft whines and hums that left your body as he worshipped you, hips rolling under him in a desperate attempt to feel something more. You wanted him so badly, already overcome with desire.

His hand came to rest on your hip, squeezing and he continued to suckle at your breast. His fingers dipped easily into the waistband of your paint-smeared sweats – one of several pairs you alternated when working on the house renovations. Before long, he was dragging them down your thighs, his cold knuckles grazing at the skin and sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

Terzo was taking his time without wasting any. He knew what he wanted, what you wanted, but he spent just enough time working your body, lavishing it to build anticipation. But before long, his kisses began to travel south, leaving a path of wet little marks down between the valley of your breasts and your navel until he was tracing the hem of your underwear, daring to run his finger along the sensitive skin.

It took a formidable amount of strength and restraint to keep your hips as still as you did, and even then, you were wriggling under his touch. But when he could tell you were growing restless, he wrapped his arm underneath your thigh and lifted it above his shoulder. Naturally, you spread wider for him, giving him complete access to your covered core where he could see so clearly the stain of arousal.

He was so close to you, the scent of your sweet honey so intoxicating. You could never understand how divine that scent was with your own human senses, but to him? It cemented itself in his memory. He knew that after today, he would never forget it. He didn’t want to rush, but frankly, it was getting impossible to resist a taste.

He lifted the hem of your panties and pierced the material beneath it with his fangs, easily tearing it away from your body before he pressed his nose to your mound, and took in a deep inhale. He growled between your legs, the vibration and exhale teasing your nerves until you were clenching around nothing.

He could wait no longer, his tongue reaching out to lap between your folds in one slow motion. He savoured the taste on his tongue, making sure to collect as much honey as he could for a truly overwhelming taste. You watched as his hips rocked into the bed below him, his hands tightening on your thighs. His tongue felt cold too, but the pressure was so welcome, a wave of euphoria passing through your core.

Expertly, Terzo used his whole mouth to bring you the pleasure he thought you deserved and yet, not once did you worry about the sharp fangs he’d used to strip you. He had the ability to retract them should he need to, and for this particularly delicate activity, he did just that. But his lips and tongue worked together to have you moaning at every lap, hips rolling underneath him.

Your hands found their way to his hair for purchase, tugging at the roots every time he sent a surge of pleasure through your clit. He loved it, moaning with you as if he too was close to an orgasm. Both of you had lost yourselves to the moment, completely enthralled in lust.

Terzo was becoming more and more desperate to have you finish on his tongue. Each pretty little sound he caused only made him want to hear more, and as you grew closer and closer to orgasm, you sweetened with added hormones that drove him wild. He unwrapped a hand from around your thigh and easily slid two fingers inside, not bothering nor needing to tease with how your body already gave itself over to him. He curled his fingers inside you, a shock of pleasure forcing your back to arch from the mattress as he found the perfect position.

His pace increased with every moan he elicited, the tension in your lower abdomen growing until you were on the verge of snapping.

“T-Terzo… Please,” you begged him. He chuckled darkly as he buried his face deeper within you, his nose adding to the equation and making your hips writhe until finally, that tension inside you snapped.

He didn’t stop, holding you down with inhuman strength as you erupted in cries of bliss. Your muscles contracted, thighs trapping his head in place and fingers pulling painfully at his hair.

Terzo slurped at your core, not letting a single drop of arousal go to waste. You tasted different as you came, the rush of hormones adding something so damn addictive that it wasn’t until you physically tried pushing his head away in oversensitivity that he snapped out of his trance, his head jolting up to look at you with his mouth and skin shimmering. He looked completely feral, his eyes wide, and you watched as his fangs returned with a snarl of a hungry animal locking onto its kill.

Your heart jumped in your chest; out of fear or lust you couldn’t be sure. But he heard it, the irregular thump as you lay vulnerable and weak beneath him. It only served to make his erection twitch in his slacks… Fear was a powerful feeling, and mixed with lust it was one of the most erotic combinations.

He crawled his way back up your body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before diving into a punishing kiss that knocked any remaining wind out of you. You could feel his length pressing into your hip, and while you were certainly already struggling with exertion you wanted nothing more than to know how he’d feel inside you.

So you reached between you both for his belt, fiddling with the buckle as you kissed him. Taking the hint, he kicked his shoes off over the edge of the bed, and when you’d managed to undo his belt and slacks, he helped to kick them with his underwear passed his knees to follow suit. With him bared to you and pressing into your hip once again, you could feel just how endowed he was, and just how ready for you he was.

“You are so beautiful, cara mio…” he mused between kisses, his cold fingertips trailing down your neck and arm, then back up. “And you can’t ever understand how exquisite you taste.”

“To an extent, I can…” you teased with a flirty smile, “I can taste myself on your tongue.”

He stared down at you for a moment, until realisation finally settled and his lips curled into a devilish grin.

“Tu sei una tentatrice, amore mio… (you are a temptress, my love…)” he whispered, lowering himself to your lips once again.

As you both lost yourself in another steamy kiss, you couldn’t help rolling your hips up to meet his. He hummed into your mouth, understanding that you wanted him completely, and reached between the two of you to grip himself. You spread your legs a little wider to make it easier for him, feeling how he prodded at your entrance once he’d lined himself up.

“Are you sure, amore?” he stopped to ask, and you nodded, biting your lip to contain the smile as you cupped his cheeks. With your permission, he slowly pushed forwards, filling you slowly as he glided through your slick. You fought to keep your eyes open, if only to watch the look of bliss that overcame his face – and boy was it worth it.

He looked so ethereal, like his pale skin had been carved by the finest of Greek sculptors in marble burdened with the curse of perfection. The chill of his skin did nothing to quell the burning heat of yours, finding the perfect balance.

“You’re so… warm,” he moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he enjoyed the feeling for a moment. “Sembra fottutamente incredibile. (feels fucking incredible.)”

Given a moment to compose himself, he began to slowly rock his hips back and forth, gritting his teeth from the sensation alone. You would be the first to admit that he, too, felt incredible inside you, reaching places his fingers had only moments ago and sending waves of a dull pleasure through you once again at the embers of your last orgasm were being stoked.

His hand gripped your thigh and lifted it around his waist, obtaining a better angle and something for him to grip onto to stop his mind spiralling into sheer madness. Already, you were so difficult to resist; temptation was calling to him in the form of your steady, yet thundering pulse where his face lay against your neck. But if he lost himself, lost control like he was so terrified to, he was afraid resistance would fail him.

It was like torture. How could he feel so incredible pumping his length inside you while simultaneously experiencing the physical strain of holding his thirst back. You were his, he’d decided that long ago. But to truly make you his, all he would need to do was to give in, to sink his fangs into the skin he was peppering with kisses. He felt like a recovering addict desperately trying to resist as someone waved a hit under his nose. In some ways, that was exactly what he was.

But not yet. It was too soon. He had to resist for now, to let you make up your mind without ancient ritual influences before he allowed himself to truly make you his. He couldn’t bind himself to you, only for you to walk away when it all became too much, or hell forbid, you found someone more human to settle down with.

Instead, he focussed on the pleasure filling his cock as he pistoned in and out of you. He focussed on your pretty moans, and the way you clenched around him. He focussed on kisses to your neck instead of bites, groaning against your skin as he indulged in you. But too easily he lost himself, and soon he couldn’t help but drag his tongue from the bottom of your neck, to right underneath your ear.

You loved how it felt, completely oblivious to just how close you were to becoming a meal to him. To you it was simply another thing to drive you wild, and when you once again wrapped your fingers in his hair, your other arm pushing down on his back to pull him against you, you had no clue you were making it so much harder for him.

He kept suckling, licking, even nipping so gently at your neck – so fucking close to what he truly wanted as his instincts began to take over. He fought them as hard as he could snarling at himself in warning but still, you were oblivious to his internal fight and mistook his anguish for noises of pleasure.

Truly, he hadn’t meant to let it get this far; but when the sharp tip of his fang grazed just a little too close to where your pulse thundered against his tongue, and you writhed under him with a targeted hit to your g-spot, he nicked your skin just enough to draw the tiniest spec of blood… He hadn’t even noticed, your scent already filling his nose that he didn’t sense it intensify just a fraction until it was too late, and he’d laved his tongue over the graze.

It all happened too fast, then.

You were mid-moan when you felt an excruciating pain where his tongue had just been, the noise catching in your throat with a sudden choke. Your fingers naturally tightened in his hair, and your nails dug into the cold flesh of his back as a scream travelled its way through your ribcage and you couldn’t help but let it out. Your back arched and your muscles constricted, but Terzo’s hips never stopped and now that he’d got a taste of you – a real taste – he growled a visceral growl that you felt rumble in the pit of your stomach.

If he thought you’d tasted good between your legs, this was the most intensely delicious thing he’d ever had the pleasure of tasting. Such pure, untainted blood coated his tongue, dribbling down your neck as he ravished it. He’d known this was dangerous, that one bite would bind him to you for eternity after the first whiff of your scent when you moved in. But now that he’d tasted you, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d fought so hard to stave off.

“T-Terzo, you-“ you tried to stop him, remembering how pained he’d looked when he explained why he really couldn’t do this, but it truly was too late. All it took was one drop. He cut you off with a hand clamping over your jaw, his other holding your hip in place with bruising force.

His hips never stopped, every sensation he felt only pushing him to fuck into you harder like a rabid monster. In that moment, that was exactly what he was. In that first split-second, he frightened you. You saw the side of him he’d tried so hard to hide, and coupled with the pain in your neck, your body flooded with adrenaline – which of course, only added to the sublime taste of your blood.

But like he had promised, the venom acted fast. The pain ebbed away into nothing but a sensation of being prodded and sucked at. Still you held onto him tightly, unable to deny that this was possible one of the most intimate feelings you’d ever felt, and the pleasure started to stack up.

Even to a point, where the rush of blood through the two puncture wounds in your neck became a pleasurable experience. You’d have trouble explaining just how, but it felt unbelievable, like a massage that tickled and sent endorphins flooding your mind. Little did you know, that was also the venom coursing through your body. But it didn’t matter, because coupled with Terzo’s cock thrusting against your g-spot it was the most glorious feeling in the entire world.

As you barrelled closer to a second orgasm, Terzo ripped his fangs from your neck and looked down at you beneath him. He had a look in his eye that was so predatory that you knew immediately you belonged to him now, whether you liked it or not. As luck would have it, you did like it; very much. That obsessive look, that ownership turned you on to a point that had you squealing for him beneath his hand.

Quickly, you reached your peak for a second time, holding him so tightly you thought that maybe even you would draw blood with your nails in his back. Just as that second burst of pleasure coursed through you, Terzo reattached himself to your neck, drinking in the newly sweetened blood that a rush of hormones created for him. If you could imagine the most expensive, and decadent wine you had ever tasted, it wouldn’t hold a candle to the taste of your blood to him right now.

Suddenly he lurched back again, this time removing his hands from your body and holding himself up, only to dive in and sink his fangs into the swell of your breast as it bounced with the force of each of his trusts. Again, you were met with pain the flooded your body but mixed with the high of your orgasm, you could only scream in pleasure. He drank from you again, kneading at your other breast as he too hurtled towards an orgasm.

The pain subsided quickly thanks to another dose of his venom, but he continued to drink from you, prolonging your euphoria just long enough for him to finally and violently reach his own high.

He erupted inside you, his head throwing back as he growled and lost his rhythm, pounding sloppily into you with each twitch of his cock. In your post-orgasm haze, you witnessed the look of bliss on his face, seeing for the first time the distinct red that coated his lips and dripped from his fangs down to his chin. He looked manic, but holy shit it was intensely erotic.

With the small amount of strength left in you, you sat up just enough to push your lips to his. You don’t know why you did it, or even that you had until you could taste the metallic twang of iron on your tongue. Terzo collapsed into you, wrapping his arms around you as he rolled to the side, taking you along with him. With the mess he created of your core, he slipped from inside you, now simply intent on holding you close while he processed that you were kissing him, despite being tainted with your blood. But it grounded him, and slowly, his orgasm subsided and his mind cleared of its fog.

Your kiss came to a natural end, the pair of you exhausted, and without a word you lay yourself on his chest, not bothering to wipe away the smears of blood around your own mouth as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry…” he whimpered, pulling you tighter against him and obscuring your view of his face so you wouldn’t have to witness the shame that settled there. You didn’t have the energy to speak, instead hoping that the circling of your thumb over the cool skin of his chest was enough comfort for now to show him you didn’t mind, that you’d wanted that as much as he had.

You let some time pass, calming yourselves down in each other’s arms. His grip on you lessened as the minutes passed, and eventually, you were able to look up at his face. To your shock and heartbreak, you noticed his cheeks were wet with something other than blood – Terzo was crying.

“Hey…” you soothed, shuffling further up the bed to hover above him. He covered his face with his hand, hiding himself but you pulled it away, cupping his cheek and swiping at the tear tracks. “No, no no… Stop this, it’s okay.”

“Mi dispiace tantissimo, (I’m so sorry,)” he cried, “I hurt you. I did the one thing I should never have done…”

“Shhh,” you hushed him like a newborn who couldn’t sleep, “I wanted that, remember? I told you you could.”

“You don’t understand, I… I have bound myself to you, and now, when you leave… it will devastate me,” he sobbed, staring straight up at the canopy of the large bed, unable to look you in the eye.

“What makes you think I will leave?” you asked him gently, still gently swiping his fresh tears away whilst fighting your own.

“Amore mio, I have lost everybody I have ever cared about,” he told you, finally looking you in the eye. “I have either outlived them, or watched as they turned their back on me. And now I have selfishly bound myself to you, knowing that I cannot ever let you go.”

His admission broke your heart. You certainly had no intention of going anywhere, the bond you now shared with him feeling strangely cemented and more intimate than any you’d had with another. But in the end, time would come for you just as it had the rest of his family, lying under the earth of your own back garden.

“How does someone… become like you?” you asked tentatively, absentmindedly, playing with the chest hair the covered his pecks.

Terzo’s brow creased in confusion. “Why would you ask such a thing? I couldn’t condemn you to a life like this…” After all he’d been through; the killings, loss, isolation, and even the exile he’d faced decades ago when the townspeople discovered what he was… He couldn’t put you in a position like that. He didn’t want you to become part of the dark legend of the Emeritus house, another spooky story passed from generation to generation to tell around campfires for years to come.

“Just tell me, how?” you pressed. He sighed, laying his head back on the pillow and staring back up at the canopy.

“You would need to drink the blood of my kind,” he stated simply, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “I could not ask that of you. The process is not an easy one, and to become like me is to be condemned to a life of heartache.”

You thought for a moment, acknowledging his concerns but deciding that whilst that had been his experience, it didn’t need to be yours. Not with him beside you – neither of you would need to be lonely ever again.

“I’m so sorry you’ve felt that heartache, but I believe that the two of us together could avoid that.”

He raised his head to look at you again, examining your face for a moment while he contemplated what some kind of future might look like with you.

“Perhaps not yet, I understand. But Terzo, I will prove that I intend on going nowhere. And when you feel like you might be ready to trust that, I’ll be waiting,” you promised him, cupping his jaw and stroking your thumb gently over his cheek. “Until then, I can be your very own personal supply, hm?” you smiled, “You won’t need to take a life, so long as you have me little and often, right?”

“You… would do that? For me?” his eyebrows creased together in question, truly in disbelief you would offer him such a thing.

“Mhm,” you nodded, “I mean as long as every time feels as incredible as that,” you giggled. “And besides, you’ll get a decent meal at least once a month,” you joked, lightening the mood a little with a cheeky smirk.

Terzo rolled his eyes with a laugh that vibrated his chest beneath you. He shook his head at the absurdity of your offer, no matter how technically practical that sort of arrangement would actually be to a man of his kind.

“Oh, amore… sei davvero una tentatrice (you really are a temptress)…” he grinned, leaning up to capture your lips in a sweet, blood-stained kiss.

A/N: Huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading! If you'd like to leave me a tip, you can do so here.

If you'd like to read any of my other works, you can find them here.

[noemilivv]

Hi 👋,

If you're still taking requests, I absolutely loved the most recent one you did with Lucifer, Adam and Vox proposing and marrying their s/o.

If possible could you do one similar to that but for Husk and Alastor?

If not, it's totally cool and I'm loving your work 😊

hellooo, dw i’m still taking requests haha, yeah i can do that for you!! the first part was undeniably fun to write so obviously i’ll do it again for ya haha

Warnings: None(?)

Alastor Proposal + Wedding Headcanons

Alastor never really knew what love truly felt like, until he met you, from that alone — he knew you were the one

His proposal was simple, but still very gentlemanly, his shadows were his band, playing some of your shared favorite songs, and Alastor stood in a different suit than the one he normally wears, a black version with a red streak instead of the white line that goes down the collar

He stood in the center of your room in the hotel, awaiting for you to get back from work, with a bouquet of spider lilies in his hands and a ring box in his pocket.

When you arrive, he has a soft and gentle smile on his face, in contrast to the big grin he usually shows, he didn’t feel vulnerable or at risk with you, so he could wind down with you

He hands you the bouquet and gets down on one knee, taking your ring out of the box, holding it to you, as his other hand takes yours in his and kisses the back of it

“My dearest and truest love, you have made me feel more alive than I ever have, even in my years on Earth.” He started, his radio affect softer than you’ve ever heard it, it’s unlike him, given he usually has a more cheery tone.

“You have showed me what love truly feels like, what in feels like in here —” He said, putting a hand to his heart, “That being said, would you make me the happiest man in Hell and be my lawfully wedded spouse?”

You and Alastor have a wedding almost immediately, thanks to his magic staff.

The ceremony is like any other, other than the fact your soon-to-be husband has a massive fucking grin on his face that did not falter the whole time, other than when you came down the isle, and it seemed to inch up his face more.

When it came to the kiss, he does turn you both around as he does not enjoy displaying affection infront of others, but he also won’t break tradition, so…

The reception is nowhere near boring, he knows how to have a good time, there’s excitable jazz music that has a good chunk of guests swaying and moving their feet

He also may or may not freak out some family members of yours…but that’s okay!

He also does not wish to be in wedding photos, due to his opinions on modern cameras and tech, but will for you, and either way, he knows his grin fucks up the photos in contrast to your beauty so he doesn’t really see the point tbh — but he’ll most likely make you guys use an old camera for effect

Husk Proposal + Wedding

Headcanons

Husk genuinely did not care to get married, well, he would be fine if you did, but he was content the way you both were, but he knew how much of a romantic you were so…

Quite frankly, he probably had the laziest proposal out of everyone I’ve written for for this, while you guys were laying in bed, bitch asked you if you would ever wanna get married and proceeded to basically chuck the ring box at you.

You and Husk were in your shared bed. It was late, you were just about to doze off for the night, until you heard Husk’s gruff voice pipe up.

“I have a question for ya.” He said, staring at the ceiling with you on his furry chest. “And that is?” you ask, popping your head up in curiosity,

“Would you ever wanna get married?” He asked, looking down at you, a soft and subtle smirked played on his lips. “Oh!- Uh, probably!” You answered, a bit thrown off by the question.

“‘Kay, great.” Husk muttered, plopping the ring box in between you two. “Husk, what the fu-”

Yeah before you could finish he was already asleep 😛

Husk mainly leaves wedding planning to you, not cause he’s a dick, but it’s just not his thing, he will help out when need be though

At the ceremony, Husk is holding back a couple tears, only a few though!

He never saw himself as the sentimental type, and he knows he didn’t really have the desire to do this in the first place, but now? He knows he made the right choice, even if it was at 2 in the morning.

The reception is chill, it’s kinda just sitting around and chatting, and yes there’s a bar, and Husk is pissed he can’t work it.

There’s chill jazz music in the back, but it’s not like Alastor’s where it had people swaying, it was more soothing, and it wasn’t like Adam’s where people were absolutely bopping to music either

You guys still don’t know if you’re having a honeymoon, Husk is still way too tired and way too hungover to make that decision.

[twisted-gremlin]

So uhhh

Twisted Wonderland Yandere Purge AU

The ideas here stem from @yanderemommabean and @blughxreader for the og creator and some excellent world biulding- so here I am- just adding this to a gay ass mobile game

Yan Twst students x Reader

Twisted Wonderland, is a... odd world. Filled with magic, odd creatures, and the sort. It's the perfect place for a loner nerd like yourself to be!

The school and the land in itself feels so nostalgic to you. Things that you learn about each town, city, and country, just make all sorts of sence to you.

Then... you got 22 red letters. Grabbing one at random you open it to read the contents of what's inside.

Dear Shrimpy♡

Here we have this thing called the Purge. It's comes from the rose place, so we also do it here since teens tend to often get someone they adore so much that they just rip out the troats of whoever they talk to♡

Whops~ I said the quiet part out loud~

Do wait nicely for me when the day comes, it be soon♡ I can't wait to squeeze you tightly and keep you close forever♡

Love,

Your favorite Eel♡

Ok- the purge. In this fuckin Disney ass world?- do they even own that- I guess they own half of all media so MAYBE- (nope, it's own by Universal)

Opening the other letters there was more talking about this purge, and how that they are going to keep you here forever and keep you safe.

What the fuck?-

Grim was in the corner happily snacking on 22 tuna cans.

"Grim"

"What is it henchman, can't you see I'm haveibg the feast if a lifetime!"

"Uh-huh- and- do tell me- who gave you all that tuna?"

"You know- all the guys that we helped out and kicked the asses of"

"..."

"Yeah- along with Ace and Deuce. They seemed to be getting along- witch was odd'

"Crap they are teaming up- oh no- that means-" others are probably teaming up too-

Not good not good-

Let's see here so it's people that I know-

We have Floyd as 'your favorite Eel' and he called me Shrimpy so obvious giveaway-

Fuck Tsunataro also signed it in his Nickname and called me child of man. He dosent know much about this, so thar could be either safe or very dangerous

Two your queens- oddly enough- but probably Vil and Riddle

One that called me Waifu/Husabando/Spouseu signed by Gloomurai

A big sis/bro/sib from someone, seemingly young so maybe ortho- witch isn't at all good

Two knights, one calling me their dream

One written in shakespirian for whatever reason

... I just realized this one has feathers and a shit ton of money in it and called me their jewl

One of the more scaryer ones just says I'm comeing, dont fight it

And more oddities.

Well, might aswell use that cash that, maybe Kalim? Sent me to get some defense. Or maybe bribe Azul- scraych that, Floyd and Jade are after me.

I don't want to hide in town and get them hurt...

Oh what to do- what to do-

Knock

Knock

Knock

"Child of man?"

[licorice-tea]

And There You Are, An Ocean Away

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader (and a little Nami x Vivi if you squint)

Content: friends to lovers, fluff, anxious/hopeful crush feelings, confessions, long distance relationships, reader is a Straw Hat Pirate, and Law is a little awkward <3

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: this is one of the first fics i’ve finished and i’m not the best at grammar rules so there are probably a few mistakes! also i might have made Law a little ooc lol, but besides that im just trying to write more to improve! thanks for reading :)

Edited 1/17/23

be-beep. be-bee-

“Hello?” Law cuts off the ringing of his transponder snail. He can’t help but smile to himself upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line.

“Law? Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He leans back in his desk chair, twisting the cord of the transponder snail around finger “E” while holding the phone in the other hand.

“Sooo,” you drawl, “have you guys started opening presents yet?”

Law can practically hear you smiling, which makes him exhale in amusement before responding. “Yeah, the crew exchanged gifts and opened them earlier this morning. How about you?”

“Mhm, we were up as soon as the sun rose- Chopper and Luffy woke up the whole crew.” You pause, and he can imagine you biting back a laugh while shaking your head as you often do. “Anyway… Did you get everything you wanted?” You sound expectant, almost knowing.

In his usual deadpan tone, he answers simply. “Bepo got me a new coffee blend.”

“That’s nice of him… he’s always so considerate.”Based on your tone it’s not quite the answer you were looking for, but you provide commentary anyway.

“Ohh yeah,” He continues on the other end of the line, feigning the recollection of something important, “and there was this massive box on deck…”

“Oh good!” You exclaim as Law chuckles. “You scared me, I thought you hadn’t gotten it. Did everyone like their gifts?”

You’re referring, of course, to the comically large box that the Straw Hats had shipped to the Heart Pirates. It was packed to the brim with gifts for every crew member. After all, what was the point of having tons of berries from “stolen” treasure if not to use it on your friends? Or at least, that’s the reasoning you used to convince Nami to rearrange some funds for gifts to the Heart Pirates and other allies of the Straw Hats. Though, maybe it was just because you had mentioned sending a gift to Vivi back in Alabasta as well…

“They all really liked it, a lot. Was it your idea?”

“No,” you explain with a playful cadence, “it was a group effort.”

“Sure thing, but the bows and wrapping paper has you written all over it. And the handwritten card…”

“I have the best handwriting on our ship! Besides, we all signed it so, its from all of us.”

The only part that 100% was not from all of the Straw Hat Crew, was a box with Law’s name on it at the bottom of the much larger box. Inside the present addressed to the “Captain of the <3 Pirates” was a neat little coin display with places for 25 coins, as well as a card tucked in beside the display.

“Well, it was nice of all of you then.” He concedes with a snark in his voice. “And, uh… I like what you got for me, y/n.” Law’s voice comes out a little quieter, and maybe even a little deeper towards the end. He sounds hopeful, not 100% sure if it was you that had chosen his gift, yet knowing that only you could have selected something so sentimental and- ugh, perfect. His tone makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad.” Your voice, now a bit softer, replies. “I was worried you might have already had-“

“I-I didn’t. I’ve just been storing my collection in boxes...” He trails off, now tracing the edges of the coin display you’d gotten him. It was nothing exceedingly special or expensive, but it meant a lot knowing you had thought of him- just him- and went out of your way to send him a gift. The thought that you cared about him as much as he did you had his heart beating faster already.

You only knew Law was a coin collector because he chose to tell you. Thats how it usually was with him- he only shared the parts of himself he wanted to share. (Though you did also have a knack for “catching his vibe” as you liked to say.) Anyhow, you also knew his office was painfully tidy and there was little to no decoration, despite having ample bookshelf space. And so, a display for his not-so-secret hobby seemed like a perfect gift!

But, that wasn’t the only thing you’d added to his present. There was also a card, in which you’d written something along the lines of “I’m so glad I met you…. You deserve so many great things, but hopefully this coin display will suffice for now… I have feelings for you…. Merry Christmas! xxx, y/n” You had sort of just slipped in the confession between other clauses.

“And did you read the card…?” Your face suddenly feels a little warmer. Not that there was anything scandalous in the card, just some very honest words about your feelings for Law. Words you hadn’t ever been bold enough to say out loud and in person, and still hadn’t been brave enough to write without lots of other thoughts and well wishes surrounding them.

“Card?…” You hear some shuffling on his end, “I’ll read it now.”

“Mkay.” Your short response is a telltale sign of your own nerves, which makes him curious to find out what you could’ve written.

There’s a prolonged silence as he reads, and Law’s heart skips a beat as he nears the end. His eyes go back over and over 5 specific words: “…I have feelings for you.” He feels nearly giddy with excitement, but it comes out as pure anxious energy. He never thought this would actually happen; a scenario where you reciprocated his affections had only ever happened in his imagination up until now. Usually in these scenarios, he’d have worked up the courage and audacity to tell you how he felt in person, and not only would you accept his confession; you’d also return his feelings. But now that it was actually happening? He found himself at a loss for words, heart beating in his ears and probably blushing like some lovesick idiot.

Law wants to say something perfect for you, something charming and witty, but all he can think of in the moment is, “… I read it.”

His throat feels dry, like he doesn’t know what else to say. Law likes you too of course- how could he not? Ever since you’d met back in Saobody Archipelago, though the interaction had been brief, he’d thought you were beautiful, strong, and somehow a little different from the other Straw Hat Pirates. Then he’d gotten to know you; really know you, beyond your fighting capabilities and the information on your bounty poster. You were kind, witty, selfless, hardworking, and so much more. And alas, absence only makes the heart grow fonder.

Sure, you’d started off as allies, but that quickly became friendship, and a close friendship at that. He liked you because of your acceptance for nearly anyone, so long as they seemed a good person. Even more so, your ability to understand his emotions despite his usually reserved nature (he secretly thinks it’s some sort of sign, but in reality you’re just emotionally intelligent.) And you like Law because of his obvious (though he tries to hide it) love and passion for so many things: his crew, his work, etc. This, along with his witty, albeit odd sense of humor, made you enjoy his company quite a lot. The two of you took most every chance you had to be in each others company, since they were few and far between. Sometimes you’d chat, with you doing most of the talking and Law being content to listen and only add comments where he thought them necessary. Other times you’d follow each other into battle to provide support for the other, though neither of you had ever really needed help in those situations.

You swallow the lump in your own throat and continue, “You don’t have to have an answer or anything right now, I just want you to know how I feel.” Law doesn’t say anything, and so you continue while trying not to sound disappointed. “Merry Christmas, Law.”

“…”

“Law?”

“I like you too.” his words come out sort in a rush, like he had been holding his breath.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Well, uh, I have to go now, but… Can I call you tonight?” He asks hesitantly, even though you’ve already confessed that you feel the same way he does.

“Yes, that’s fine! I… I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way for a second.” You laugh, light and airy.

He scoffs, but you know it’s not meant to sound mean when it comes from him. If anything, it’s endearing. “Of course I do.”

You giggle again, “Bye, Law.”

“Bye, y/n.”

As soon as you hang up, his nervous frown turns into a small smile, and it grows and spreads across his face until he’s grinning like a fool and hiding his face under the brim of his hat.

[runa-falls]

scratches and bites - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Could be a little off-canon for some characters, lots of plot, slight angst, Miguel is an helicopter mom, reader just wants some friends :(

a/n: ok. i didn't realize how much i wanted to put into this chapter so spicy stuff is coming NEXT chapter. promith. i've already written some of it. anyway, i'm glad y'all are enjoying my O'Hara content. I hope this lives up to your expectations lmfao

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. This is what you've been doing since he swept you away.

w/c: 2.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

So being “Spider-Woman” turned out to be harder than you thought. It’s not all swinging from and shooting webs like you imagined. Apparently, there’s a spider-specific physical regimen you’re required to keep up with. Every day. 

You’re almost convinced that you’re being hazed into the spider-verse community because you are yet to see anyone else doing upside-down web squats on a 100-story building. Not to mention the life-threatening training simulations you were thrown into as soon as you arrived in Nueva York. 

“They can’t hurt you, Kid. They’re holograms.” 

“Yeah, that’s what they want you to think O’Hara, but my ass has been kicked enough to prove differently.”

“Alright, well they can’t kill you.”

Miguel has been “training” you for the last few months to become the best Spider-Woman you can be, pushing you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. Though these days, this “training” is actually just him telling Parker to drill you in whatever he thinks will work. 

O’Hara attempted to do it himself for like three days, and it turns out he’s too impatient to take in a spider apprentice or even be in a room where you do anything but exactly what he commands. 

You should’ve expected it. 

Sure, Miguel is a naturally grumpy man, but you swear he has it out for you. He literally tenses whenever you enter the room and makes sure to barely meet your eyes when he’s forced to talk to you.

Actually, ever since you were dropped in the middle of Spider-Central, O’Hara has been ignoring you. Treating you like the plague. Always making the excuse that he’s too busy with things that are far more important than anything you’d ever have to say. As if he wasn’t the one who forced you to come with him in the first place…

It’s not fair. He was literally all you had. 

Months ago, he showed you a side of him, the one that convinced you that he actually brought you here for a reason, but now he can’t even look at you. Sure, you’re a particularly slow learner, and one that never really liked PE, but you deserve some slack. You left everything for him – for them. 

Meeting people who’ve gone through similar circumstances as you was quite interesting, to say the least. And it doesn’t stop at people either. Spider cars, dinosaurs, and cats were just the beginning. 

You’ve made a few friends. There’s Gwen, a 15 (or was it 16?) -year-old who mostly talks about her friend Miles, music, and…uh, Miles. It’s sweet how she gushes on about some guy without fully realizing how into him she is. Miles sounds great, really great, but you’ll probably never get to meet him because of the number of restrictions placed on your watch. Fucking O’Hara and his parental controls. 

Gwen is cool, she plays the drums and can do a bunch of acrobatic things that you’d never even attempt, but she’s also almost a half-decade younger than you. There’s only so much you can talk about before you start getting homesick. Of course, despite her young age, she’s still given more responsibilities and missions than you. If Miguel has one hobby, it would be undermining everything you do. 

“She’s been in the game longer than you have.” He always makes that excuse. 

And you always counter it with: “But I’m older! I can do more than just scream for help!”

“This isn’t a discussion.” That honestly might be his favorite phrase to shut you up these days. “You’ll be called on when you’re ready, Kid.” And that. 

“I am ready. And stop calling me that. I’m not a kid, I’m 20 years old!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s also Peter Parker, your reluctant coach. He’s…something else. Sure, he’s your friend, but he’s more like a substitute teacher and crazy uncle type of guy. Usually, he listens to everything Miguel says, acting like a glorified babysitter, but sometimes, he’s up to bend the rules on some things.

Once he let you visit his dimension, claiming you’d need some real-life experience as a “friendly-neighborhood spider-woman”. You spent that day chasing down petty robbers and helping old ladies cross the road. Sure, it was a small field trip, but that was only the third dimension you’d traveled to at the time. 

Parker is also always trying to get you to hold his daughter whenever she comes to work claiming that “it’ll be good for your mental health, trust me.” Of course, for Parker, every day is “bring-your-kid-to-train-the-new-spider-woman-day”. And really, you don’t mind holding her, but not when you’re in the middle of sparing 5 of Doc Ocks tentacles. 

The baby is adorable, but you do worry about how she crawls up the walls. Parker doesn’t seem fazed. Actually, neither does O’Hara. 

Sometimes you wonder if O’Hara wants kids one day. He certainly handles Mayday like a pro, letting her crawl over his shoulders and paperwork. Would he possibl– No, actually, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because he left you. He’s not – couldn’t even be an option. – Anyway…

Parker and Mayday are nice company and the only real constants in your life, but you really just want to be a consistent part of the team. You don’t know how much longer you can spend your days doing swinging drills and spider crunches (don’t even ask). But Parker has actually been your rock these past months, to give him credit. He’s one of the few people that makes you feel like you belonged in this distorted array of spiders and dimensions.

Then there’s Hobie. 

The first time you met him you probably had literal stars in your eyes. Donned with a spiked vest and several facial piercings, he caught your attention right away. He catches everyone’s attention. Even his suit is cooler than everyone else’s with a spiked mohawk that surely gets in the way.

Unfortunately, just as you were hoping to take on the Brit as your mentor for all things spider, he was decidedly off-limits, courtesy of O’Hara. Apparently, his rebellious nature and brash energy make him a “bad influence”. 

“Seriously? You should be glad that I’m taking a bigger interest in my training.” You have your hands posted up on your hips, trying to make yourself look bigger than you actually are. Damn, O’Hara and his domineering presence!

He rolls his eyes openly, genuinely already done with the conversation. “Yeah…your ‘training,’ sure.” 

“What is that supposed to mean!” You practically whine it out.

“Don’t get distracted gatita, just do as you’re told.”

“Ok, what does that mean? I don’t speak Italian.”

“That was Spanish dumbass.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hanging out with him anyway (though he’s not around as much anymore). Who knew making friends as Spider-Person would be so hard. You’d think you’d have a lot in common with everyone around you, but really, you’re all alone. Sometimes you think the spiders actually resent you deep down because you’re the only one that has never lost anything. Or had anything to lose in the first place. 

For now, you’re just moving through a sea of spiders, trying to catch a glimpse of what you’re supposed to be doing here. Trying to figure out why you were chosen over the infinite other versions of you in the multiverse.

—

So far you’ve been on 2 and a half missions. The half was when you were forcibly sent home and effectively grounded for a week. Apparently, talking to civilians while standing guard is prohibited, even when they’re selling dip’n’dots. What? It was a long ass mission. And it was hot! 

This one is your official third mission. It’s quite simple, in theory. Just travel to Earth-275A, infiltrate a tech lab, pick up some – worryingly volatile – equipment, and go home. Easy. 

Except, it didn’t exactly go that way. 

It’s just you, Miguel, Gwen, and Jess on this mission. You and Jess were placed on lookout duty (you on the roof and Jess on the ground with her bike), while Miguel and Gwen broke in and out of the building. It was all running smoothly, each spider occasionally muttering quietly through the radio whenever their positionings changed. Otherwise, it was silent. And frankly, a bit boring. 

You idly kicked around some pebbles that somehow found their way onto the roof of this tall ass building, sometimes smacking them against the half wall separating you from falling a thousand feet downwards. You were actually dying to get back to HQ because you briefly spotted Hobie talking to Parker and Mayday before you had to go. He’s been quite absent lately, and you want to show off some of the new moves you learned this week.

Then, there was suddenly action. 

A huge explosion surges out the right side of the building that O’Hara and Stacy were infiltrating. That mission plan was not kidding when they described the ‘volatility’ of the shit inside of those supply crates. Deep creaking and smashing objects follow the blast. You watch as the tallest building in the city starts to tilt. Shit, the explosion must’ve taken out some of the support beams.

You hear Miguel yelling your name through your earpiece, as well as heavy breathing and crumbling concrete in the background. 

“Y-yes? Copy–”

“You and Gwen collect the crate and get out of here. I already called for a portal. Jess and I will get surrounding civilians away from danger.” 

“Understood, sir.” You don’t usually call him anything like ‘sir’, but the stakes are high and complete compliance is needed at this moment. 

“Crate is located on the top floor, Stacy is already there waiting for my word.” You briefly shake yourself out, mentally preparing yourself to scale the larger building in front of you.

With a quick fwp, you attach your web to the nearly as tall building next to your target to give yourself some leverage. You jump without even giving yourself time to think about it, tugging slightly at the web, making sure to collect as much kinetic energy as possible. You release the web when you get to the highest point and spit out another web to get you to the top floor of the building. Luckily the blast took out the windows so you could easily enter the floor. 

There, Gwen stands next to a crate with several scientists and guards nicely pasted onto the walls with perfectly placed webs on each limb and over their abdomens. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“It’s been 30 seconds!”

“Relax, I’m teasing.” She shoots out a couple of webs and connects them to the crate. “Here, help me out with this.” You follow her movements, pulling at your webs slightly to get a good evaluation of its weight. Surprisingly, it moves quite easily, almost three inches from your soft tug.

“Why’re we both doing this when it weighs 100 lbs. We have super strength.”

“I dunno, Miguel just gave us the orders. There’s probably a reason. It doesn’t really matter.” You frown realizing you could’ve been down there helping O’Hara save actual lives but instead, you were ordered to assist a teenager on a one-person job. “The portal is opening in a few seconds on the roof of the building behind us.” Gwen doesn’t seem phased. “We can just swing it with us.”

“Isn’t this shit going to blow up if we move it too harshly?”

“Not when it’s in this protective crate.” She steps closer to the broken window, mentally measuring and planning out the escape route. “That explosion earlier was from an open container.” You hum, still torn over leaving Gwen to do the delivery so you can help people get out of the way faster. “You ready then?” She’s been watching you. Clearly, your thoughts are painted on your face.

You nod briefly, “Let’s go.” Together you take each side of the crate and use your other arms to swing yourselves over to the portal that magically appears. This time, that odd purring sound of the portal is completely blocked out by the chaos going on around you. Somehow the building has still only tilted a little bit since the explosion. 

As Gwen pushes the crate into the gateway, you look down at the streets, watching as Miguel and Jess work impeccably together as they save hundreds of civilians from falling debris and the inevitable demolition of the building.

Then you look back a Gwen, who’s ready to head home. Then you look down at them again. 

Then your eye catches on a red sedan sheltering a terrified family that sits under the chaos.

Gwen catches your eye. “Don’t.” 

“I have to.” 

“Migu–”

“Would do the same.”

“--Will mur-der me.” You sigh, but quickly shoot a couple of webs downwards without looking. Gwen has her arms folded, sharing that unamused expression that Jess loves to sport. Her feet are now temporarily stuck to the floor. You’re sure she could get out of it in a second, but you can tell, she’s not going to stop you. “Don’t die.”

Right before jumping off the ledge, you send her a cheesy smirk, “Me? Never.”

----

Taglist: @deputy-videogamer @danaeaurelia @reuxxi

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Twenty-Eight)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Angst time baby

Notes: I'M BACK HI IM SORRY! Update to the surrogate tomorrow, and I'll be doing more shorts soon and hopefully more art. Love you all xoxoo Word count: 5547

The medical bay was silent, spare for a single pair of shoes tapping down the broad, white, sterile hallway. A nurse was hurrying herself on an errand; she’d been told that someone had been brought in from upstairs and needed an IV ASAP, and so she was carrying all of her equipment through the bay on a little sterile tray. Others might have been nervous at such an abrupt call, but she was just glad to be getting some practice in.

Miguel had enforced such rigid protections for his members that they barely saw anyone to treat, and it was making her attempt to get into practical experiences rather difficult. The pay was good, but she was hardly more than a glorified dispenser of aspirin at this point.

But now they apparently had someone to treat, and so she was trying her best to speedwalk and not run. She’d even written the hospital room door on her hand she was in such a hurry.

‘Room… 43…’ she murmured to herself, before coming to an abrupt skid as she realized she’d almost accidentally passed that exact room in her excitement.

She stopped, double-checked the note on her hand, and with a final pleased huff she pushed the room door aside.

‘Hi! I’m just bringing in—’

The nurse flinched and squealed, nearly throwing the metal tray into the air.

Before her was an enormous 9ft spider, one with the torso of a man attached, slumbering on top of a hospital bed that he’d promptly crushed beneath his weight. On his right was a man who looked nigh identical to him, if a little smaller, sporting an extremely sour expression, and on his left was a short tan man with a goofy grin and, of course, you.

You, Gabriel, and Miguel made instant eye contact with the nurse, focusing in on her with unblinking eyes.

‘Ah… y-you—’ She started to stammer, only for you to interrupt.

‘HEY! Hey, you’ve got the uh—is that going to be big enough?’ you blurted, rushing to check the IV. You held up the bag and compared it to Mig’s giant body, noting the way his abdomen slowly rose and fell as he breathed. It looked minuscule compared to him, more like a little sweet wrapper than an IV. The nurse remained rather shellshocked and refused to move, even as you began grabbing at her stuff with ungloved hands.

‘Ey, it uh- it looks kinda small, doesn’t it?’ Gabriel murmured. He was trying to act casually, but his eyes kept moving back over to the silent, stoically stiff Miguel standing in the corner of the room, his eyes fixed on the floor. Miguel didn’t respond.

‘Yeah… I guess we still haven’t updated everything to, accommodate for his size. Oh, Miggy…’ You put the bag back and gently started stroking his hair as he slept. Even in his sleep, he twitched in response to your touch.

The nurse wrinkled her nose in mild disturbance at the sight, but Gabriel leaned closer.

‘So, you uh… You two’ he said, his fingers going up and awkwardly crossing over as he gestured towards you and Mig intermittently. You turned your head just a little to see what he was implying before quickly turning back to Mig.

‘Yeah. Yeah, we uh- we’re, dating, I guess you could say. He says we’re mates’ you mumbled, still too focused on Mig to really think about your reply. Gabriel grunted in response.

‘Huh. So the big spider thing—’

‘Doesn’t bother me’ you murmured back. ‘He’s— It wasn’t his fault, that his body looks this way, and it’s not really that big a deal. He’s a really… A really beautiful person. Inside and out.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that’ Gabriel said with a wry smile, his lips tilting upward even as his brows knotted. For the first time then, you turned and looked at him properly.

‘… Right. You’re his, brother’ you repeated slowly. Gabriel’s smile widened a little. He looked so different to Miguel, sat with his knees up and his arms rested on them so casually, but you could see some of his traits in there. The eyes, the lips. They probably looked ever so similar as kids.

‘Um… You—’ You opened your mouth to speak but faltered, unable to find the proper words. You had so many questions, but you were torn between that and the need to take care of Miguel until he recovered from the venom.

‘Look, uh- I’ll go see if they have a bigger one of the IV bags’ you said, your voice garbled with worry. You rose up to head out only to feel resistance on your wrist, tugging you to a halt. You turned to see that both Gabriel and Miguel had attempted to stop you, and now the two were looking at each other.

‘I’ll… I’ll go’ Miguel grunted, abruptly releasing your wrist. You could see him avoiding everyone’s gaze at this point.

‘No! No, I’ll go’ Gabriel insisted, gently tugging your wrist in sharp contrast to his variant brother. ‘This is all my fault, so—’

‘Estupido. It’s not your fault’ Miguel said. He sounded exhausted, you thought. ‘It’s my fault, so I’ll fix it.’

‘I mean, it might be easier if both of us look, right?’ Gabriel continued to press the idea as he glanced between everyone in the room for agreement, even the slumbering paralyzed Mig. You noticed Miguel getting more and more tense as the man continued babbling and begging to be of use.

‘We can find it quicker, and… If we find it quicker, we can help fix Miguelito quicker, and, I mean if they’re his partner they should stay with him, right? So—’

‘Okay! Okay, we’ll both go look.’ Miguel’s sharp voice cut Gabriel off mid-sentence, betraying a small crack in his tone he clearly had been trying to hide. You opted to just step back, letting them go ahead. You could tell Miguel was tense, and for once you didn’t want to push his buttons.

‘Okay. You guys come back soon’ you murmured, and with a nod to both you returned to Mig’s side. He stirred in his sleep, snuffling his beautiful nose against the broken bed, and it took all your strength to not just bury yourself against him.

You heard the men leaving by their heavy footsteps on the cold hospital floor, closely followed by the nurse as she rushed to avoid the giant spider whom you continued to cradle against your lap. Soon all you could hear was the beep of the monitor and the snoring in his throat,

‘Mi amor’ you whispered once alone, right against his temple. ‘My beautiful Miggy…’

Back in the corridor, Miguel was in agony. It was a turmoil he thought he’d pushed away, a pain he thought he’d escaped. He’d tried consciously to avoid Gabriel as they took Mig to the hospital bay, but… He also couldn’t seem to stay away.

His version of Gabriel had passed years ago, and he’d done everything he thought he was meant to do. He’d screamed, and he’d cried, and he’d clawed at himself and he’d locked everyone out, only to crawl back after suppressing every little thing he could.

He’d come to terms with it. He’d come to terms with his brother’s absence. But now, he was here again.

Beside him was the smiling ghost of a man he’d unconditionally loved. A zombie, an empty husk, who he didn’t know how to view as a real person. The human mind, no matter how evolved, was not built to handle this kind of mourning. No one could ever be taught how to brace for the reality of seeing their loved one alive again, only for them to not remember you exist, to have never known you existed.

Gabriel stayed silent as they walked, but every so often he’d mutter something or stumble into Miguel’s side, reminding him of the man’s presence. Miguel felt the agony build until it felt like he was wading through mud.

Without a word, Miguel pushed into the storage area and began searching for anything larger that might suit Mig. It’d taken a backseat to his feelings over Gabriel being here, but, he also couldn’t deny the guilt he felt over Mig being paralyzed.

He knew he’d be okay, but the way Mig had stepped out to drag him to safety, after all he’d done… it haunted him just as much. He hadn’t just covered your body, or Gabriel’s body, he’d covered *his* body too, despite knowing he’d survive his own venom.

‘Estupido’ Miguel murmured under his breath as he searched. What was that man’s deal?

‘Hm? Did you say something?’

Miguel froze as Gabriel peered around the drawers at him. ‘Did ya say something?’ he asked. Miguel scowled.

‘No’ he grunted, before turning away. Gabriel felt his brows sink a little, but, he did go back to searching as well.

They ended up searching for nearly 10 minutes in silence, until Gabriel just couldn’t take it anymore. He turned and glanced at Miguel across the room, only to find that he’d gone still. He wasn’t even really searching anymore. How long he’d been like that, Gabriel couldn’t tell.

‘Ey, uh… Miguel?’

Miguel didn’t even respond to the sound of his name being called. He was disassociating too hard at this point. Gabriel’s voice still hurt him every time he heard it. It triggered the most painful memories, things he never wanted to dwell on, things that crept up on him in his most lonely moments, and yet there was inherent joy to them too.

His brother's stupid smiling face, dragging him by the hand across the park near their house during the peak of summer, promising him that he’d found something cool he wanted to show him. He remembered cicadas, and the heat making the sky wavy, and Gabriel wanting to run regardless of how exhausted he looked. He smiled the whole damn way.

Why that memory, Miguel didn’t know, but he held it like a babe in his arms. He let it wash over him.

‘What do you think of this one?’ Gabriel said, ignoring Miguel’s silence. He held up a huge IV bag, one nearly the size of his torso, letting out a grunt of a laugh as he did so. He was always covering up his nervousness with laughter. ‘It’s pretty big, right? Is it big ENOUGH though? Or TOO big?’ he continued to mumble.

Slowly, Miguel closed his eyes.

‘… How do I mourn you, hermanito?’ Miguel blurted, his voice openly cracking as it filled the empty air.

Gabriel stayed where he was, his arms bundled with items. He could have said something, anything, to ease the tension, but for once he kept his lips shut. He stayed still and he listened.

‘How do you mourn someone properly, in a multiverse?’ Miguel continued, talking more to himself than to Gabriel at this point. ‘When you lose someone… You pick up a picture, to ease the pain, to remind yourself they existed, and to pretend that they’re still here. But, ultimately, you have to come to terms with the fact that they’re gone, right?’

‘Ah… r-right’ Gabriel replied slowly. Miguel clenched his fist around an empty IV bag, watching the air deflate, hiding that it was just an excuse to cover the soft break in his voice.

‘I see your face… everywhere’ he choked, a barely discernible crack in his tone. ‘I watch you living, and my brain convinces me that it's you, that it's him, mi hermanito. And I stop mourning, because you’re alive. But… But it’s not, him. You’re not him. And I have to remember that, every time…’

Finally his voice broke audibly, and Gabriel felt his heart sink. The larger man was bent over as if he’d been kicked in the gut, and yet he remained utterly still.

‘I have to keep mourning you, over and over and over. I keep… mourning, him. How do I accept someone’s dead when they’re in front of me?’ Miguel asked no one in particular. ‘How do I mourn the—’

Miguel froze as a hand suddenly came down and clapped him on the back. He turned to find Gabriel holding him from behind, the fool gently tucked in against his hunched, muscular back. His head was turned to the side but Miguel could just about see his eyes.

‘I uh- I think I understand’ he said gently. Miguel held his breath.

‘You’re my brother from another universe, right? And… The version of me, here, he’s uh… dead.’

He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly. It broke something in Miguel, especially as he continued to hold him close.

‘Yeah,’ he said, sounding utterly broken. ‘Yeah…’

‘I mean… I’m just glad to know, that even in another universe, you still cared about me’ Gabriel said softly. ‘I mean you almost tricked me into thinking you were my Miguelito, so, you gotta be decently similar. And…’

He paused and looked up again, his soft brown eyes darting over Miguel’s face. ‘Hey, if your Gabriel was anything like me? If I’m a good enough dupe to make you feel better, then… He cared about you a lot, hermano. He knew. Even at the end.’

Miguel went stiff as he spoke. He refused to crack, refused to break. Not here. Not now.

‘You’re still my hermano’ Gabriel said gently. Miguel scowled, his face twisted as if furious, only to feel one tear slide down his cheek. He immediately wiped it away.

‘You’re…. you’re, still…’ Miguel tried to speak only to falter. No. He couldn’t say, you’re still mi hermanito. It wasn’t good for him. He internally pushed it all down and let out a deep, tired sigh.

‘That- bag will do fine’ Miguel said slowly, pointing to the one in his hands. Gabriel glanced down at it to hide his disappointment that Miguel seemed to want to drop the subject, but regardless, he nodded.

‘Sure. Let’s head back then.’

…

Back in the room, you were almost asleep on Mig’s side. You’d been up all night now waiting for him to wake, and with the boys gone it’d been easy to slip into your own exhaustion.

It was while your eyes were closed that Mig finally stirred awake. He was utterly exhausted, his eyes barely capable of staying open, but something compelled him to move. Your scent. The warm smell of his mate, someone whose hormone signature was ingrained and etched into his mind.

His sweet arañita…

‘Mm… mi tesoro’ he murmured softly with eyes still closed. In his head he was back in bed at the nest, curled up with your body beside him. He was savoring the warmth, the simplicity of holding his precious person to his heart. ‘Mi tesoro…’

His words woke you from your own sleep, stirring you right awake. You jumped up so fast that you almost fell. ‘Shit- ah, Mig? Mig?!’ Your hands flew to his furry abdomen, gripping handfuls of his fur to gently shake him awake. ‘Mig?!’

Mig grunted and forced his eyes open as he realized this wasn’t part of a dream. His big red eyes blinked once, twice, three times, slowly focusing in on the familiar sight of your face. ‘Mi… mi tesoro?’ he murmured, a slightly dorky smile creeping onto his chiseled, gruff face. ‘Mi tesoro—’

Your face grew clearer, clearer, until it hit him all at once. He remembered. His mind was filled with memories of you as he leaped through the portal, of his body instinctively rushing to cover your body from harm, to shield you even when he had no idea what was going into his own skin.

He remembered the relief, even through the pain, feeling your body under his own, and he remembered…

‘Mi amor.’

He whispered the words now in mild horror, realizing he’d said them out loud without thinking. You stared back with burning cheeks, feeling like your whole body was on fire. You knew all he’d want to do was address that whole fiasco, but right now, you had more on your mind.

‘Oh thank GOD you’re awake’ you cried, immediately flinging your arms around his waist. You squeezed Mig with all your might, feeling his hard abs press and squish into your cheek as his pectorals heaved above your head. You refused to let go for anything or anyone.

‘I… arañita? What- What happened?’ Mig asked in a stilted voice.

‘The um- uh, the security system, it tried to paralyze Gabriel. You jumped to shield everyone from it hitting’ you said, deliberately leaving out Mig’s sudden confession from the rundown. Mig felt a little relieved at that, and yet, part of him also yearned for you to acknowledge it.

But, when you didn’t, he just nodded. ‘Ah- is that what those needles were?’ he murmured. He glanced down at himself then, at his enormous body crushing the hospital bed to pieces, now sitting in a strange and sterile room. His fur bristled.

‘Hmm… Ey, thank god. I was—’

‘You really jumped not knowing what they were?’ you asked in shock. ‘You- were you willing to just… Take a deadly hit right there?’

Mig, to your horror, just nodded. He even shrugged. ‘That is my job. I am your mate. I am the bigger one. I throw myself in front, and—’

‘No! No, Mig you- your life is not forfeit for mine’ you stammered in horror. He remained aloof, his big red eyes unbothered by the idea, much to your continued horror.

‘Why not?’ he murmured, seemingly confused. ‘It is my instinct. It is my duty. To protect you.’

‘Miggy I would much, MUCH rather you saved yourself than risk it for me, I wouldn’t—’

‘But I would’ Mig repeated, gently putting a finger to your lips. He looked so serene in contrast to your emotional turmoil. ‘I would. Happily. Mi tesoro… Eres el alma de mi vida. Mi pequeño.’

‘You… idiot’ you croaked, your face getting a little wavery as your lips quivered against his clawed finger. ‘Don’t… You’re worth a million more to me alive than dead. I… I need you.’

Mig’s eyes softened from their aloofness as he saw the earnestness in your eyes. He lowered his finger, watching as you gripped it between your hands and let your forehead fall against his. He even bent to match your height, nestling his nose and cheek against your own. Like cats greeting each other, you rubbed and nestled your faces together in that silent room.

You felt his rough cheekbones on your forehead, your jaw, and his sharp, thick nose brushing against your own. His lips brushed yours intermittently, and each brush made you shudder. His breath was so warm, so soft, so sweet.

It took a while for you to speak again.

‘I… Miggy, you… You said, before you were paralyzed—’

‘Don’t say it.’

His soft, husky voice drew you to a staggered halt. Your eyes fluttered open and met his, nose to nose and forehead to forehead. His parted lips panted his hot breath into your mouth.

Slowly his hand came up to your chin, holding it in place. His abdomen bristled a little harder. His eyes began to close, and so did yours. You leaned in to kiss him.

‘I—’

The two of you were interrupted then as Miguel and Gabriel finally came back inside, their hands throwing the door open at nearly the same time. You awkwardly withdrew from the kiss and brushed yourself off.

‘HERMANO!’

Without thinking Gabriel dropped the IV equipment and ran forward, grasping Mig by the face. With the spider's legs folded his brother could see him eye to eye, and immediately he began squishing his cheeks together, forcing the man’s confused lips to pout.

‘Mi hermano, ¿Estás despierto?’ Gabriel stammered.

‘I am- making eye contact with you, brother’ Mig said back, his words garbled by his pouted lips. ‘I am awake, yes.’

‘Oh… Oh, yeah! Good to see you didn’t forget Spanish when you got turned into a spider’ Gabriel cheerily replied.

Mig’s brows furrowed further, even while still trapped in his brother's hands. ‘I- do spiders innately lack the capacity to speak Spanish?’ he murmured back. ‘Apparently not!’ Gabriel cried in response, his own face ripped into a wide grin, and for the first time Mig slowly began to smile back.

‘You… You, hermanito, you have not changed’ he said sadly. Gabriel shrugged almost awkwardly. ‘Ah, not compared to you, no. You changed a LOT. But you are still mi Miguelito.’

As Gabriel moved backward and released Mig’s face, the spider's smile faded. He realized then the full gravity of their reunion, the fact that this even was a reunion at all, after so, so many years.

‘Gabriel, I—’

‘Oye. Ah, you, hey.’

You jumped as you realized Miguel was gently pointing his finger at you, rudely poking about an inch from your face. He darted his eyes to the other side of the room. ‘You uh- could you help me set up his IV bag? I think the nurse is um, too… scared, to come back’ Miguel said slowly.

At first, you were about to argue, but then you realized why he was prodding you. He was trying to get you to leave so Mig and Miguel could discuss things with a little more privacy.

‘Oh… Oh! Right, right, yeah. Friggin’ nurse. Ah- I’ll be right back, Miggy’ you quickly replied, giving Mig a kiss on the cheek before rising to your feet. You hurried off with Miguel to the corner of the room where you pulled a curtain, pretending that was any kind of real privacy as you tried to figure out how an IV bag worked for as long as possible.

Mig opened his mouth to stop you but he quickly picked up on your plan as well. His raised hands lowered, and he slowly, painfully, turned to face his estranged brother. Gabriel met him with a grin.

‘I can’t believe I found you’ he murmured, almost like he was whispering in a dream. Mig’s brows went up and his face sank.

‘You… Gabriel, it- it’s been, nearly a decade since—’

‘I never stopped looking!’

Mig paused again, surprised by Gabriel’s intensity as he cried those four simple words. They echoed around the empty room, lingering over the two siblings.

‘Never’ Gabriel insisted with a soft choke. ‘Never, Miguelito.’

‘You—cannot, call me that anymore’ Mig murmured in response, his abdomen shifting back and forth on the broken hospital bed. He was unsure how to deal with the flood of emotions that caused him. ‘I am 9ft tall, Gabriel.’

To his surprise, Gabriel spluttered with laughter at his response. ‘You- Miguelito, I called you that when you were 6ft at fifteen years old. I don’t care how big you get.’

Mig darted his eyes, trying his best to keep his gaze stuck to the wall, but he couldn’t help it. He kept returning to Gabriel’s quiet, dorky smile, and he kept feeling his own lips slowly twitching upwards too.

‘You… You- yes, I suppose you have always been, a fool’ Mig said slowly.

‘What happened, Miguel?’ Gabriel asked, his smile slowly drifting away to be replaced with a decade of heartache. Mig’s eyes darkened.

‘… Gabriel, that…’ He paused and huffed softly, searching for the strength to do this. ‘I… I was caught up at Alchemax. I wanted to blow the whistle on their gene-spicing experiments, t-they were using my work to hurt people, and- they tried to drug me, to keep me in line. I attempted to use the gene-splicing machine I created to free myself, only… They knew. They knew, and they used it against me.’

He gestured vaguely at his body. ‘And now, I’m—’

‘No! No, no, not that’ Gabriel suddenly interjected, causing Miguel to frown a little.

‘No… but, that is what—’

‘No! I… I figured out what happened to you Mig, I followed up all the clues at the old building. What I meant, was… Why did you never reach out?

Mig’s abdomen sank at those words. He stammered, unsure of how to explain. ‘I… I’m a monster, Gabriel’ he murmured, the only thing he could think to say. The words tumbled from his mouth like stones, heavy and painful to express. ‘I’m a monster. I—’

‘No, you’re not’ Gabriel insisted, curtly cutting his brother off. Mig floundered with confusion at his reply.

‘I’m a monster! I- I HURT people, Gabriel, I—’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Of course you care!’ Mig whined, unable to muster the strength to truly cry out. ‘Of course, you care, I-I could have hurt you, you—’

‘I don’t. I don’t’ Gabriel repeated, again, and again, and again. ‘Nothing could ever change this. You’re my brother.’

Miguel felt his breathing getting faster, harder, almost desperate. ‘I’m not- I’m not, a- I’m not, him, I’m—’

‘You’re my brother, Miguelito. You’re my brother.’

Those simple words, spoken right from the heart as Gabriel faced him head-on, broke Mig’s resolve at last. His lip quivered, and the two men into a sudden embrace, holding each other tightly. Miguel squeezed the life out of the smaller man as Gabriel choked, but he made no attempt to push him off.

‘I’m glad you never stopped looking’ Mig blurted with a soft sob. ‘I’m so glad.’

Gabriel’s eyes sank behind Miguel’s back.

‘I… I do have a confession though’ he said, slowly shifting out of Mig’s grip with a soft, repeated tap to his shoulder. Mig reluctantly let him go.

‘You… what do you mean, hermanito?’ he murmured. Gabriel pursed his lips. He looked almost guilty, at least from the outside, but for what Mig couldn’t tell.

Without a word, Gabriel slowly held up a picture he had tucked inside his jeans pocket. It was old and crinkled, and as Mig hesitantly took it he was forced to unfold it bit by bit.

Mig’s breath hitched. It was a picture of a child. A little girl with Gabriel’s eyes and hair, smiling toothlessly at the camera. The spider felt his whole heart drop. ‘This… this is—’

‘Micaela’ Gabriel said softly. Mig felt that word etched into his mind, that soft name with the little accent on the ‘c’. He let out a stuttered whimper.

‘Mic… Micaela?’ he repeated back. Gabriel pursed his lips a little.

‘I never stopped looking, Miguel’ he murmured. ‘I just, thought… I’d keep you close, this way. Because I never knew if he’d be successful. But I never stopped.’

Mig’s face twisted, his brows knotting as he glanced back down at the little picture in his clawed hands. He hadn’t realized they were shaking. He blinked, hard, only to see a small see-through tear hit the crumpled paper. ‘She- your, offspring, she is…’

‘She’s only two’ Gabriel whispered. Mig’s eyes softened. He saw that baby and wondered if she had Gabriel’s voice, his laugh, or if she had her own little laugh. He wondered if she laughed a lot. He wondered if she was angry like he had been as a child, or small and sweet like Gabriel had been.

His niece. His little niece.

Mig went to make another comment, complimenting her eyes, only to notice that Gabriel wasn’t smiling anymore. He slowly turned from the picture to face him.

‘She’s…. sick. And I’m not smart enough to help her.’

Gabriel spoke the words slowly, and the room went silent. Behind the curtain you and Miguel had locked eyes over the IV bag, having been unwillingly listening this entire time. You were horrified for the two men, while Miguel was on the verge of tears. He looked utterly miserable at this revelation, almost too shocked to move or speak.

‘Gabriel…’ Mig murmured, clearly also in shock. ‘You—’

‘You were always the science nerd between the two of us’ Gabriel teased, letting out a slightly teary laugh. ‘Right? I swear, I didn’t just go looking for you to help, but… I do. She’s got a really rare disorder that they don’t know how to fix in our universe. With Alchemax dead, all that research is gone, and… I need you, back in my life. I went searching because I need your help to heal her.’

Mig slowly lowered the little picture in his hands, his eyes moving from it to Gabriel.

‘You… You want, my help?’ he asked slowly.

‘I NEED your help, Miguelito’ Gabriel insisted. He reached out and put Miguel’s hand over his heart, holding it tight to his chest. ‘I need it. She’s my world, Mig. I need your help.’

Mig’s face softened. ‘I… I, want to help, I just—’

‘We’ll help!’

The two brothers spun to see that Miguel had kicked the adjoining curtain covering himself and you to the ground, creating a violent clattering noise to accompany his cry.

He was heaving, his eyes wildly red and his face even redder, his chest heaving with each deep and shaky breath.

‘Ah- Miguel you—’

‘We’ll help!’ Miguel repeated, cutting Mig off. ‘You can have the whole damn society at your hands, a-all of my tech, all my research, it—’

‘Miguel, are you sure?’ Mig asked. He was clearly hopeful in tone, something you quickly picked up, and when Miguel furiously nodded, he seemed to sigh with relief.

‘Yes. I’m sure’ Miguel insisted again. He stormed over and looked at Gabriel with a forced stiff lip.

‘I will help you’ he repeated. He was forcing himself to look at Gabriel so he didn’t see the little picture in Mig’s rough, clawed hands, knowing the sight would break him beyond what he could take. He just focused in on Gabriel’s relieved, teary, beaming face, and knew that that was enough.

‘Thank you’ Gabriel rasped, his throat wet and tight from emotion. ‘Thank you…’

The group took a moment just to relax, to settle, as Gabriel wiped his eyes and Mig wiped his, and Miguel tried to focus on anything but that picture. Luckily Gabriel stepped over to take it away after a minute or two, tucking it back into his jeans where he kept it beside his wallet.

As you stepped over Gabriel happened to glance down, noticing the horribly made IV set up in your hands. He snorted, wiping his eyes as he laughed. ‘Oh, you did a terrible job of that.’

Your eyes darted from his face to the bag and back. ‘I… I did?’

‘Oh, yeah. Micaela needs one right now, I know how to do ‘em off by heart’ he said, sounding strangely cheery and nonchalant. You slowly got an idea.

‘Oh, um- could you, help me do this properly then?’ you asked, gingerly holding the bag out for him to see. He gave it one quick runover before giving it a thumbs up.

‘Mm! Yeah. I can do that. Come on, new uh- sibling in law, I suppose’ he said, that soft charm leaking through as he led you off to get yet another IV bag to try and set up for poor Mig, who at this point really didn’t even need one.

Mig and Miguel faced each other then, as you and Gabriel moved away to talk.

They said so much without speaking a word. Perhaps too much.

Miguel felt his eyes getting tearing, despite his clenched jaw wrung tight to keep them at bay. Mig felt the same. They made the same stoic, painfully tight expression at each other as they forced the pain back.

‘I miss him so much’ Miguel whispered, and that was all he could get out, the most honest words in his heart said to the only other person in the multiverse who would understand.

Mig’s brows went up and his lip shook just once.

‘I know.’

Without thinking the two men fell together. Miguel let his forehead fall onto Mig’s shoulder as the larger version of himself rested his cheek on his hair, and they stayed like that for a good minute or so of silence.

At that moment, they both finally felt understood. Despite their animosity, their anger, and their strange rivalry, they both understood.

‘You’re a good person, uh… Mig’ Miguel said, finally using his variant's nickname. It was the first acknowledgment he’d made that he was a person, a different person to him, and not just a painful reflection. ‘You are.’

Mig bristled and rustled his abdomen. He was fighting his territorial urges, his instincts, just to hold the other man, but he refused to back down. He wanted this. ‘You are, also, a…. well. You, want to be a good person, Miguel’ Mig replied gently. ‘And I believe you can be.’ Link to next part

[agendabymooner]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 !!! 𝐥𝐧𝟒 — 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

☼ PENG TING FROM McLAREN

chapter summary: honey-sue lewis was so much like her brother wroetoshaw but everybody didn’t know how alike they were until lando, a stranger, got her a bouquet she didn’t even know he bought.

OR why talk to lando norris in real life when you can just send an apology through airdrop?

content warning: use of explicit language, written + social media chapter, honey radiates big harry lewis energy (oblivious, wants to go home, can’t pick up social cues), petty lando (my man is just simping leave him alone), mentions sidemen diss track era

note: shoot me an ask about anything! enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

Her second morning in Monaco started when she had dressed up in her comfortable striped shirt and a pair of washed jeans and departed the hotel to head down to the coffee shop nearby. 

Monaco was a place of glitz and glamour, indeed, but Hannah-Sue, or Honey, would only move and splurge her money on a flat here because of how close everything was in the principality. She could get pissed on a bar here and still make it home by walking. 

She loved it so much. Plus, the locals here were nice! Whereas she could get mugged in the streets of London even if she did nothing but breathe. Then again, she grew up around British people— so being sworn at was just a typical day. 

Peace and serenity was what she had expected on her second day. Ever since she saw her mates’ driver friend yesterday at lunch, she hadn’t been able to look anyone in the eyes anymore. She couldn’t even look at her brother without being awkward— Lando’s eyes were always trained on her when she spoke. 

She hated that he had to be so stupidly attractive and funny. She hated that he was so friendly. She hated that his stupid good looking face was making her even more socially awkward and conscious. 

But as her second morning went on, the thoughts of him had gone away. 

She stood from her seat and excused herself, “I’ll check out the streets right now,” she told her brother Harry and their friends. “I quite like the outside.”

“Honey if you smoke I swear to god—“ Harry tried warning his sister.

“I’m not gonna smoke, you ugly donny,” Honey quipped. “I’ve got no cigarettes with me.”

Filly looked at Honey with a concerned expression, “Are you sure you wanna go out by yourself? Can I come along?” She truly appreciated Filly’s presence in this trip, because he was genuinely worried for her. And they’ve only been friends since last year, so for him to care about her like this showed Honey that being friends with people weren’t all that bad. Not when someone could treat her like Filly did.

Honey smiled genuinely and shook her head with insistence, “I’m alright, Fils. I’ll be out quickly. ‘Sides I’m not gonna get robbed here or anythin’.”

“Yeah she right, she’s not in London,” Chunkz piped up with a snort. “Just be quick, yeah, because our food should be out soon.”

Honey had soon walked out of the place and looked around the streets of Monaco, the hustling and bustling city filled with luxury and ambition as her eyes skimmed through the stores. She truly loved the beauty of the principality. 

Her attention soon turned towards her left, where she found a person around her age waving with her eyes widened.

“Hello- I- oh my god,” the girl started, “Hi- Honey-Sue, right?” Honey nodded with a puzzled smile as the girl sighed, “Okay good— I’m such a big fan of your music and I uh- you’re here for the race right? I am too! I uh- can I take a selfie with you, perhaps?” 

“Oh! Thank you and uh, sure!” Honey nodded and placed her arm around the girl’s shoulder as the fan took a photo of the two of them. 

“Thank you!” The fan exclaimed with a grin, “I would’ve had something signed but I got nothing with me right now- and by the way, congratulations on the double platinum and the platinum for Lust for Life! I’m looking forward to your newest albu—“

“Excuse me, what?” Honey looked at the fan with a confused look. 

“Oh…” The fan trailed off. “Lust for Life just became a platinum album… did you not check your Twitter?”

“No? I uh—“ Honey stammered, still shell shocked at the news, “I don’t usually— Shit I do need to check my twitter and talk to my manager— alright, lovely chatting with you! Cheers mate! You have a good day!” 

Honey dashed inside the restaurant with news to bear.

Why, of all the times she could’ve gotten this news, did she learn that she just reached her platinum record status during her trip to Monaco? When it’s, arguably, the most stressful time for her considering that she was forced to meet new people? 

yungfilly posted a story!

Honey-Sue usually wasn’t this stupid. But whenever new people showed kind gestures to her, her social skills and ability to pick up cues would deteriorate dramatically.

Sure she could’ve just stopped rambling for a brief moment, but she couldn’t help it— nice and considerate people just make her short circuit especially if she didn’t know them before. 

(Hell, even KSI would get her anything she’d like and she’d still be humbled about his kind gestures. That entire “KSI called her a sket so now she’s making him pay for it— literally” ploy was just a front for JJ’s platonic affection for her. The petty Sidemen diss track days were over yet he doted on her.)

She smiled meekly as she continued to examine the bouquet of paper flowers at hand. She twirled the bouquet around her fingers as she admired it. 

“Yeah, we found out that you’ve gotten your platinum for your second album,” Ria continued to speak, but Honey couldn’t stop speaking and stammering. 

“Thank you so much,” Honey said once more, “this is quite nice. I- uh, it wouldn’t die on me so that’s something I can keep in my place for forever…? I really absolutely love it.” 

“And uh- Lan-“ Max tried to tell Honey but the singer couldn’t help but continue.

“I didn’t really expect this— I have to put this in my suitcase—“ Honey rambled. “Though I’m not sure if I should tuck it into the suitcase because this might flatten— excuse me guys—“

“—He- Lando—“ both Ria and Max tried to speak again but the Guernsey girl was already up on her feet as she began to head for the lift with Harry following suit.

Honey was still rambling to her brother as she asked, “Can you airdrop the photos? I ought to post those in my story.” 

“...Lando bought it for you…” Max trailed off, shooting a look at Ria as they sighed in defeat. 

It wasn’t even five minutes after when they received a notification from Instagram saying: “honeysue mentioned you in a story.” 

They weren’t sure how they’d be able to deal with a sulking Lando. Especially when Honey didn’t learn that the McLaren driver was the one who bought the paper flowers before he headed off to the track for his media day duties. 

She could’ve at least read the note he’s written, right?

—

honeysue posted a story!!!

Lando was staring at her. 

And she was staring at the pasta on her plate as she refused to look at anyone. Not when the McLaren driver was staring at her with something of a curiosity in his eyes. 

Was it curiosity or disappointment? Because he probably was disappointed that she was socially awkward and didn’t know when to listen and understand.

She wanted to apologize for not crediting him for the gift. But the way he looked at her told her not to bother— he probably fucking hated her anyways. He probably thought she was a bitch for that. 

Especially after when she realized too late that it was his bouquet that she’d gotten. The message in the card was clear as a day in Monaco.

“Congratulations on your platinum! You’re amazing! Love, LN4 xx” 

She ignored the conversations around her as she continued to sip on her second cocktail of the night. Her head felt a little bit light, but she was sober enough to apologize to him. She had to apologize otherwise she’d feel too guilty and embarrassed.

After all— there’s a couple more days of the Monaco weekend. Her brother Harry’s intention was to spend some time around Lando’s peers. 

All Honey could do was apologize in hopes that the two of them would part ways. 

Meanwhile, Lando Norris stared at the screen of his Twitter as notifications came in from his recent post. It was probably stupid that he acted all petty towards Honey’s obliviousness, but he couldn’t help it. 

He really admired her. And he took her obliviousness about the flowers as a sign of rejection. 

He couldn’t even find himself to look away from her and he knew he was making her uncomfortable— or so he thought. 

And as he stared mindlessly at his screen, a faint sound escaped his phone as a notification popped up.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head.

Honey fidgeted on her seat, her fingers running through her screen as she mindlessly typed away on her phone.

She could’ve just talked to Lando seeing as he sat across the table. But she couldn’t— she was too socially awkward and embarrassed after that whole fiasco. 

He accepted the airdrop that she sent a minute or so ago. But he seemed to not have decided to say anything more seeing as he hadn’t approached her like he did a day ago. 

She was just about to accept humiliation and defeat until a notification came from her phone.

Yeah. Maybe there’s some room for improvement here. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen

[josephquinnswhore]

can’t do casual - ellie williams x female reader

Summary: you broke the only rule of yours and Ellie’s agreement, don’t get attached.

Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warning: mean Ellie, emotional unavailability, jealousy, insecurities, bisexual reader, drinking, reader gets drugged, physical fights, violence, blood, happy ending. Ellie n reader are 20.

Note: let’s enjoy, shall we? Game Ellie cause I’m obsessed with her 💜 written for @stardu5tbunny

5 MONTHS PRIOR…

-

“Girl slow down, we just got here! Don’t you wanna enjoy yourself?” You roll your eyes towards the blonde, her blue eyes piercing a wave of concern towards you.

You bring the cold glass to your lips, swallowing the rest of the vodka in one swift motion, the fuzziness inside of you that is your tipsiness, provides your body with a warmth that you embrace with open arms. You set the glass onto the bar and ignore your friend momentarily to order another shot.

“Another, please.” Your voice is level, your best attempt at trying to seem sober was convincing enough for the bartender to pour you another shot. You pickup the glass and walk away with it, your friend matching your pace as you lean against a pillar in the middle of the dance floor.

“I am enjoying myself,” you reply to your friends previous question, “I’m having a great night.” Your voice was slurred as the amount of liquor you’d consumed in the short amount of time had caught up to you. Your ability to think straight was further warped, already blown out after your now ex-girlfriend Jen had cheated on you with a new guy that worked at the stables, Jayden-Caden or whatever his name was.

“Just don’t make any stupid choices you’re going to regret tomorrow.” Your friend laughs, the lightness in her voice was unwavering. You roll your eyes at her antics.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I don’t want to get involved with anyone so soon anyway.” Your eyes drifted to a girl across the bar, her short brown hair was resting above her shoulders, barely long enough to tickle the fabric of her shirt. Her brown eyes met yours and you slowly looked away brazenly, unashamed that she caught you starring.

“Is that why you’re checking out the tall brunette across the bar?” Your friend pats your back in support at your silence, confirming what she thought. You were an absolute sucker for a pretty face, and this woman was beautiful.

“I-I’m not! It was just a friendly smile, nothing more.” You dismiss quickly, your friend leans into you, breath tickling your ear as she whispers shortly, “is that why she’s walking straight toward you huh?” She leans back so she’s standing straight, downing her shot before encouraging you to do the same, which you do. The burn down your organs is a warm welcome. “I’ll leave you to it, good luck.”

She shoots you a thumbs up and walks away from you, approaching another friend of hers she’d noticed while you were basically eye-fucking the girl across the bar.

“You gonna introduce yourself or just gonna stare creepily across the bar?” She stood tall over you, her green eyes starring down at you in question.

“I-uh, yeah sorry. I’ve had too much to drink, kinda just spacing out.” It was a lie, a pathetic one at that and the girl had noticed, she raised an eyebrow at you and you realised she had a scar in her eyebrow, causing a missing line of hair through it.

“So you’re a creep and a liar?” Your jaw drops at her bluntness, yet it drew you in more, sucking you into her orbit like a planet rotating the sun.

“Okay, I was checking you out. But I’m not a creep, I just think you look, well, nice.” You shrug nonchalantly, keeping casual eye contact, not wanting to stare too much but needing to seem like you had a shred of confidence in you.

“You think I look, nice?” Her voice screams disbelief, but your face is kind and eyes are telling the truth. The girls demeanour softens a fraction.

“Yeah, I do. Is that gonna be a problem?” Your spark of curiosity mirrors something of confidence, her green eyes looking you up and down, noting how good your legs and tits look in the yellow sundress you’re wearing.

“Never a problem when it comes from a mouth that beautiful.” She takes a step towards you, her thumb rests on your bottom lip, keeping eye contact as she parts them. You stay silent, her dominant vibe turns you submissive and putty in her hands.

“Whatever you say.” You mumble unintelligibly, your figure shrinking in front of her own strong demeanour.

“I don’t do attachment, if you get involved with me I have one rule; no strings attached. It’s strictly casual.” Her face hardens, showing no emotion or any softness other than the lust that shines in her orbs, dilating her pupils as she watches you.

“Got it, no strings attached.” Your knees feel weak at the though, knowing this would be good for you, you just got out of a relationship and this would be a good distraction, right?

“I’m Ellie, by the way. Wanna get outta here?” With one simple question everything around you was blocked out, the music, loud chatter and kissing noises from the people around you, even your friend not so quietly cheering you on.

“Sure. Lead the way.” She keeps a distance from you, but her hand is warm as it rests on your back, providing you with a comfort that you had never felt with Jen, a safeness. You exit the bar, the snow that falls on your skin doesn’t deter you, you can’t feel it with how warm your body felt from the liquor. All you knew was you had a chance to forget about it all for a night; Jen, the virus, death, all of it, even just for a night.

-

BACK TO PRESENT…

-

“I don’t know why you have to sneak in at 3am. It’s not some dirty secret Ellie, others have casual relations in this town that don’t happen at this time of day!” You lie naked on your bed, hair fuzzy and beginning to knot at the back due to the long and hateful fuck Ellie had given you.

She scoffs as she dresses herself, putting distance between you to shield herself, pulling her jeans up in a swift motion, working on the zip and buttoning it as she attempts to avoid the argument you’ve had many times over the past 2 months of your escapades, in which you’d been wanting things to become more exclusive, definitive.

“Don’t get me started on this shit again, you agreed to the terms when use started this, if you’re not happy we can call it quits here and now.” Ellie looks down at you, standing at the end of your bed as you pull the sheets upward to give yourself some protection, from her words and starring eyes.

“Feelings change Ellie, especially when you call me baby, tell me that I’m the only one that makes you feel this good! How was I not meant to fall for you, it’s like you’re using me as a fucking yo-yo, all of the ups and downs I’ve been here for all of it!”

There it was, the admission, the insufferable secret that had kept a lock and chain on your heart, the secret had been weighing you down as much as a burden can. Ellie could no longer ignore it and pretend she didn’t know, you’d told her now, there was no going back and no ignoring it. Although she would try her best to escape the uncomfortable situation, even if it meant breaking your heart.

“Don’t do that, that’s what happens when people fuck! They dirty talk, it didn’t actually mean anything. You don’t mean anything to me.” Your heart drops to the pit of your abdomen, you didn’t mean anything to her, you’d truly thought there was a sliver of hope that she actually cared about you- that maybe she felt the same way. Of course you were too stuck in your own fantasy to realise the truth, you were just an easy fuck for her. You’d never be anything more than a distraction, something to sink her fingers into when life got too tough.

“Get the fuck out! Get out of my fucking house you heartless fuck! How could you?” You stand from your bed, uncaring that her eyes were once again wondering your bare body, exposed to her judgement. Your hands met her chest as you shoved her, her face unmoving in its emotionless ploy.

Tears fell hot down your face at her betrayal and your naïveté, shoving her out the door before slamming it in her face, locking the door so she was completely shut out.

“Don’t ever fucking come back here Ellie, we’re done! You’re not welcome here anymore.” Through your wavering voice you hear shuffling, then the snap of Ellie’s voice muffled through the door that stood firm between you.

“Fine, whatever. You’ll be crawling back to me soon enough anyway.” Her heavy footsteps are stomping down the stairs, the thudding rung through the house, echoing in your ears as her words replayed in your mind. You don’t mean anything to me.

You were pulled from your mind by a soft knock on the door, “go away Ellie.” You’d managed to whimper, completely heartbroken and not wanting Ellie anywhere near you, she would only tear your broken heart apart more and pour citrus into the wound.

“It’s me babe.” The soft voice you recognise as your friend and housemate, you unlock the door with shaky hands, your body trembling from your sudden outburst of sobs. You crack the door open, arms crossed against your bare chest as your friend walks in, her eyes on your wet face and trembling bottom lip jutted to a pout.

“Oh babe, come here.” She pulls you into a hug, her arms rubbing up and down your back as you cry into her shoulder, the material becoming saturated as your eyes flow like a leaky tap.

“I’m sorry.” Whispering into your friend as she shushes you, patting your back as she sits on the bed next to you, completely unbothered by your lack of clothes, having to be the one multiple times in the past to undress and re dress you in your drunken state.

“Don’t apologise this isn’t your fault, she led you on, you know that right?” The accusation in her tone is justified as you nod sadly, your watery eyes stuck to the wooden floorboards beneath your feet.

“Hey, look at me.” You look up to your friend who wears a genuine smile. “You’re the most incredible person ever, you don’t deserve to be treated like that. You can’t keep doing this. You need to be strong and end it for real this time, once and for all.” You knew she was right, this had happened a few times and you’d allowed Ellie to slither her way back into your arms and body, without so much as a single apology.

“You’re right, I deserve better.” Your friend wipes your tears, both of you sitting in a comfortable silence as you come to terms that you’d be ending things completely with Ellie, no more chances, this was your new beginning.

-

FOUR DAYS LATER…

-

You were brushing the horse down, the hard bristles made easy work for a long chore, the hair that the bruh had collected was building fast, you had to clear the brush and start again, looking after the horses with the care you’d provided. You loved looking after the animals, they were kind, gentle and reciprocated the care you showed them. Unlike most people.

Okay-so maybe you had thought about Ellie a few times over the past four days since you’d decided it would be better for you to completely cut the emotional chord that kept your attachment for her. The thoughts were different this time though-they weren’t longing or missing her, feeling like a piece of you was missing because she hadn’t reached out.

It was something you’d never felt before now; anger, resentment and fear building for how cold you’d become towards the girl you’d fallen in love with. You avoided her every move, knowing when she was on patrol first thing in the morning, you would finish with the horses early, not wanting to deal with the confrontation that was bound to happen once she saw you.

You check your watch, crap, Ellie would be here in 15 minutes. You clean the brush and hang it up on its designated hooked on the wall of the stables, handing the horse a half handful of hay, he chomped happily as you gave him a small pat, stroking down the length of his neck. “I’ll see you when you come back.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be talking about me, would you?” The voice sent a shiver up your spine, the lightness of her voice and chuckle that followed had the hairs standing up on your body in a wave of suspicion. You turn around casually, emotionlessly looking at her with a raised eyebrow, the most she’d received from you since the argument.

She rubbed the back of her neck bashfully and you scoffed, “not a chance.” Before barging past her, twisting your shoulders sideways so you wouldn’t touch her on accident, knowing it would either set your skin alight with want, or it would make you shiver in disgust. You weren’t ready to come to terms with whichever it may be.

“Hey wait!” You halted, turning around to face her, the girl looked almost unrecognisable with the emotion plastered on her face, how relaxed her body language was; it was like you’d swapped places emotionally. “I was thinking we could catch up when I get back, you know go and see a movie or something?”

You try to hide the way your heart smiles, rapidly thumping inside of you so furiously you hear it in your ears. “Sorry, I’ve got plans this afternoon. Maybe another time.” The bluntness of your voice had Ellie almost physically flinch, your voice colder than the winter air, Ellie knew you had no intentions of making plans with her ‘another time.’ Which hurt her even more. She really messed up.

“Hey Joel.” You offer a small tight lipped smile to the older man as he entered the stables you were leaving, already gone before he could greet you.

-

“You still haven’t made things right with her?” Joel questions Ellie. He watches her intently waiting for a response, to which he’s met with an exhausted sigh.

“I don’t know what to do Joel, she wants nothing to do with me.” The horses walk at a steady pace, hooves squishing into the snow as it muffled the noise.

“You hurt her Ellie, everyone could see that girl loves you.” Ellie turns to Joel with a frown, doubting the older man.

“She doesn’t love me, Joel. It just got out of hand.” A terrible excuse from her behalf, and didn’t do shit in her attempt to get Joel off her case.

“Stop sayin that shit just because you got issues with commitment, you fucked up kid, now you gotta make it right if you want any chance of a future with her.” Ellie was almost offended that Joel had the nerve to say that to her-although he was right.

“She’ll never forgive me Joel, I don’t know how to fix it. I was too scared to admit I liked her after what happened with Dina.”

Dina and Ellie were together officially for about 6 months, Ellie had feelings long before they dated, ignoring the red flags that Dina still hung out with Jesse although she insisted they were finished, they were just friends. She had caught them making out in the mess hall, Dina on cooking duty and Jesse was meant to be in the stable-but there he was kissing Ellie’s girlfriend.

It tore her heart apart, they didn’t even try to deny it-their betrayal. Just hung their heads in shame and apologised. Dina didn’t come after Ellie, didn’t run and grab her and beg her to stay, that it was a mistake and she wouldn’t do it again. Ellie always told herself if Dina had just fought for her, she could work to forgiving her for what she had done.

She shut herself off after that, emotionally shut down to the point where even Joel was concerned, voicing his fear for Ellie turning out like him, she hadn’t made a complete turn around-but she was still in fear of it all happening again. Especially when she saw you-from across the bar, your eyes already watching her, unashamed that Ellie had caught you starring.

Ellie feared that she’d be like Dina, that she’d be unloyal and unsympathetic enough to betray her, in an effort to preserve her already broken heart-decided things should be strictly casual. Even though through the months of casually meeting for sex, Ellie had started to become soft, her beautiful eyes would be ingrained in her memory every time she closed her eyes, that laugh and smile was all Ellie could see when she was feeling down.

Ellie was falling for you- hard. But Dina came to mind to remind Ellie that she wasn’t over the hurt and trauma of being cheated on, it was a huge task to tackle alone, but Ellie didn’t wanna bother you, so she pushed you away and used you in a way that you couldn’t deny. Although given how things had turned out, Ellie knew you were nothing like Dina.

You were supportive, kind, welcoming, nurturing. You’d welcomed Ellie with open arms and always listened whenever Ellie wanted to open up-you were a saint and Ellie had tainted that lightness you provided, she tainted the love and innocence you’d shown all in the name of her own fear.

“Ellie? You okay? Still with me?” Joel was waving his hands in front of her face, eyes turning to meet his concerned frown.

“Yeah, fine. Just thinking about how to make it right.” Ellie deadpans, not thinking she even deserves your forgiveness.

“It’ll all work out, you’re both great people and you’d be good for each other.” Joel stops the horse and dismounts, searching the cabin tommy had given him the coordinates for, pulling out his gun, readying himself for a fight.

“Thanks Joel.”

-

LATER THAT EVENING…

-

It hadn’t taken your friend much convincing for you to go out tonight; you were starting to feel depressed from the encounter with Ellie this morning, the sudden change of her attitude was giving you whiplash. Did she like you or not? You figured it was her just trying to manipulate you into trying to take her back-it was the most logical explanation your head could come up with.

You give yourself another look over, inspecting your tight black dress that was a few inches shorter than what you would’ve normally worn but fuck it-you needed to find a distraction tonight-someone to take your mind off of things, things being Ellie. You take solace in the thought that Ellie wouldn’t allow you to wear what you’re wearing tonight, she would become jealous and possessive, hurling pleas and sweet words in the way of manipulation in her possession of you-not that you were ever hers to begin with!

Your friend knocks on your door and you call out, “come in!” She enters and eyes you up and down, whistling at you which makes you roll your eyes playfully, “oh shut up, did you get it?” You question and she pulls a bottle from behind her back, she had connections with someone in Jackson that had just started brewing their own vodka, was it dangerous; yes. Did you care; not really. “I cant believe you actually got it! Should we try it?” Your friend nods, opening the bottle and the smell of it was potent.

“Fuck it.” You mutter and snatch the bottle, gulping the liquid down and your face cringes, the burn that ignited your insides is furious. Not at all subtle like the shit they sell at the Tipsy Bison. This was real alcohol, it would numb your pain and make you forget, hopefully even give you the time of your life, maybe you were asking too much.

Your friend had a sip and shook her head, “that is disgusting! Let’s go to the bar, I need something to drink that I can actually swallow.” You walk out of the house into the cold with your skimpy dresses clinging tight to your body, “oh yeah, like the guy from the kitchen right?” You snickered at your friend blushing.

“Hey, he’s not some guy. He’s the chef and he’s got a super cute friend by the way!” Your friends cold elbow nudges your ribs gently and you hum, considering the offer. “Okay then, introduce me.”

Your friend eyes you suspiciously, waiting for your usual sarcastic remark but it doesn’t come. “Let’s not waste another minute then! They’ll be waiting.” You hesitate before walking into the bar, your friend turns back to look at you and you bit your bottom lip. “Do I look okay?”

She sympathetically smiles at you, offering a genuine smile as she smacks your ass, “you look perfect, now come on, first rounds on me.”

The bar was busy-8pm on a Saturday was well expected. Your friend leads you to a secluded corner table where two men are sitting; one your friend goes up to and kisses, the other stands shyly as he rubs his neck awkwardly at his friends affection. “Babe this is my friend I was telling you about, this is Jared, my boyfriend.” Your friend blushes, the tall man’s arms wrapped around her waist. “Oh shit congratulations! I’m happy you made things offical, she’s been telling me so much about you-all good things of course!”

Jared smiles, offering his hand which you shake, “I’m glad to meet the girl that’s kept my baby so levelheaded.” Your lips pull tightly upward and eye the guy next to them. “Oh, right! This is Dan, he’s the guy I’ve been telling you about, y’know, the single one.”

“How could I forget, so nice to meet you.” You cheer happily. He gives you a lopsided grin and pulls you into a hug. Sure he was handsome-and you didn’t detest being attracted to men even if you did gravitate more towards women.

“How about you let me buy you a drink? We can get to know each other!” You watch your friend and Jared nod furiously and laugh softly, “sure! Why not?” As you accept his offer he clears a path in front of you, so you’re not bumping into all the drunks that preoccupied the bar before your arrival.

When you reach the bar he rests his hand on your back, keeping it moderately high enough to be seen as a kind gesture and not something coherently sexual. “What are you having beautiful?” You eye the drinks behind the bar, as if you were going to stray from your usual order. “I’ll just have a double vodka with ice please.” Dan rubs your back with his hand gently, “you heard the lady, and I’ll just have a beer please.”

The bartender passes you the drink and you take it hastily, thanking him as Dan leads you away to a secluded table, a table for two.

“So tell me about yourself!” You internally groan, hating this prompt because you never knew what to say, I’m in love with a woman that treats me badly, yes that’ll do!

“I’m a huge animal lover, I like to grow plants and vegetables in my spare time. I’m a big reader, mostly a fan of fiction and romance. What about you?”

He’s watching you intensely from across the table, his eyes refusing to leave your own. You brush off the uncomfortable feeling that it gives you finding that it’s a good enough distraction for now. “I like sports, going hunting and killing infected, it’s become a game of sorts between me and a few mates.” The laugh that escapes his crooked lips makes your gut churn, you never found pleasure in killing infected; for they too were once people; it was tragic.

The awkward silence between you two was broken with Dan clearing his throat, “how about another drink?” You half heartedly smile, “sure, that would be nice thank you.” He disappears through the crowd and a few moments later comes back, your double vodka in hand with a tiny paper straw.

“So are you looking to date or wanting something casual?” You take a sip of vodka and swallow it, your mind feels fuzzy as it sets comfortably in your stomach. “Not really looking you know, just taking things as they are, if something happens it happens.”

“Yeah totally, I get that.” There’s a beat of silence and you’re sipping on your drink, polishing the glass clean of any alcohol. “I think it’s kinda hot you’re into women you know, not many girls like that around here.” Oh. You chuckle nervously, “yeah there aren’t many of us, thanks, I guess.”

He notices you’ve finished your drink and picks up the glass, “another?” You nod, “thanks.” Anything to get you through this dreadful evening with this man you were extremely disinterested in. In your drunken state you find yourself unable to hide the fact your whole body is yearning for Ellie, her eyes, smile and fingers-fuck they could work you up and make you feel so good.

-

“Oh hey, didn’t see you there, sorry.” Dan bumps into Ellie at the bar, spilling your drink on the floor and all over her blouse. He doesn’t care though, not really. He turns to the bartender, “can you make another one, sorry man she just spilt it everywhere.”

Ellie frowns at his lie, fucking useless turd needs to watch where he’s going. The bartender makes a double vodka and adds a tiny paper straw, your drink, no one else in town ordered that. She followed Dans glancing eyes back to the table you sat at, tapping your fingers on the table boredly. Ellie felt a surge of happiness flow through her as she realised how bad this date was going. Maybe she could redeem herself.

“You know, she’s real hot. What’s your bet I can get her in the sack tonight?” Dan asks Ellie with a smirk on his face, Ellie felt the anger flowing through her blood, her chest puffing out as she grits her teeth, “fucking good luck pretty boy, you aren’t her type.”

Dan turns to Ellie, his eyes a shake darker then they were before. “On no?” He challenges, he pulls out a small baggie from his pants, pouring the contents into your drink right in front of her, something that no one else has seen. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ellie growled, the primal instinct to protect you was going through the roof.

“Proving you wrong.” Dan shrugs and moves past her, Ellie moves to attack him when two bartenders grab her, she fights against them, “he’s gonna fucking drug her you pieces of shit!” She thrashes her arms and legs around and finally breaks free from the two men as Dan just meets your table, seeing you had just taken a drink from the glass that sealed your fate.

Ellie grabbed Dan by his collar, pulling him upright and even though he towered over her, she didn’t cower. She stood tall and swung her fist so hard into dans face he let put a whimper, staggering back into the seat as he falls to the ground in front of you.

Ellie didn’t stop when she saw blood-she couldn’t, she had completely lost control. If anything- the sight of blood had only inclined her frenzy.

-

Your eyes were blown wide as you watched the scene before you, Ellie had come rushing over, grabbed Dan by the collar of his shirt and punched him, you thought that would be it, once Dan had staggered to the floor after the hit. But Ellie didn’t stop, she was heaving on top of him, her breaths loud and ragged, blood coated her fingers with each time she connected her fist to dans face, he was unconscious now, but it didn’t stop Ellie.

“Someone get this girl off him, she’ll kill him!” One man shouted from the crowd that had gathered at the commotion.

You felt woozy, like your limbs were jelly and your head spun violently as if you were on a roller coaster, you couldn’t ground yourself and you just wanted comfort; more than anything you yearned for Ellie.

“Ellie, need you.” You breathe in a quiet slur, voice unintelligible from the substance Dan had poisoned your drink with. Your eyes begin rolling around in your sockets, unable to form a proper picture of anything around you.

“Baby, baby open your eyes.” Ellie’s frantic voice was ringing through your ears, bringing you the comfort you sought out the past few days, missing her more than you could’ve ever imagined. You wished you could take back all the arguments as you roll into unconsciousness, wishing more than anything to have her by your side and not have to spend another moment without her.

-

Two men grabbed at Ellie as she tried to comfort you, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head as you pass out, your deadweight threatening to fall onto the floor beside your unconscious date.

“Don’t fucking touch me! He drugged her drink you fucking pigs, he was going to-he would have..” she trailed off, arms still on you, holding you upright as she shook the men off. Joel comes storming through the crowd towards Ellie, standing in front of her in a protective stance.

“What, so y’all are excusing rapists now? What if it had been your daughter, huh? What then?” He pointed to the man that grabbed at Ellie, knowing he had a daughter your age, it wasn’t the nicest thing to do but Joel had made them see reason, realising how badly the situation could’ve gotten.

“If Ellie didn’t stop him- he would’ve hurt this girl. It was justified.” There were soft murmurs of agreement, Joel stands on the other side of your unconscious body, helping Ellie pick you up as the crowd separates to let them pass.

“You did the right thing Ellie.” Joel says in the silence of the winter air as they walk home, silencing the voices in her head, the adrenaline running low causes the ache in her knuckles to become prominent. She rubs the aching joints and winces, exposing her vulnerable side to Joel.

“He told me Joel, what he was going to do. I just fucking lost it.” Ellie’s voice shook, she opened the front door watching your still body in Joel’s arms. He sets you down gently on the lounge, he grunts as his knees crack at the movement. He faces Ellie, still knelt down to you, she joins him down on the floor, watching you.

“I don’t know what he gave her, will she wake up?” Joel looks sympathetic, his brown eyes filled with worry at the two girls that never got to make things right.

“She’ll wake up Ellie.” He stated firmly.

“Don’t tell me a truth if you don’t know Joel.” Ellie argues.

“Ellie,” she looks at Joel, “she’ll wake up.” He watches her, eyebrows slightly raised and she sighs accepting his answer, “okay.”

Ellie doesn’t sleep that night, she stays next to you, making sure your chest rises and falls, cursing herself when she feels her eyelids drooping. She paces the house in the living room, trying to avoid the planks in the floor that creak.

She strokes your hair once she’s fully awake again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Come on baby you gotta wake up, can’t take much more of this wondering.”

It would be hours before you finally woke.

-

THE NEXT MORNING

-

Your eyes finally start to flutter open, your stomach feels like it’s been twisted, it makes you feel nauseous, the feeling makes you groan, instinctively pulling a hand to hold your stomach.

“You’re awake!” You flinch at the sound of a muffled voice, they shush you, hands on your face as they run a cool washcloth over your face and neck, settling it back onto your forehead and hair once they wipe they sweat off you. Your eyes focus, seeing Ellie’s face staring back at you, you frown, confused.

“Ellie?” You hum, wondering why she was next to you waking up, she had dark circles under her eyes and her face was pale, rid of nah colour that made her look alive. “What’s wrong with you?” You mutter, after taking in the state of her.

“Don’t you remember last night?” You look at her, cranking your neck toward her, groaning internally at yourself for giving into her after a few drinks. You must have, right?

“Uh, not really, sorry.” Ellies shoulders slump, maybe it was better off if you didn’t know, she didn’t have the heart to tell you. “Nothing happened between us if you’re wondering.” You took the silence awkwardly, hating that you didn’t know what to say. “Oh, okay.”

Ellie avoids eye contact with you at all costs, unable to look at you to avoid telling you the truth. That she almost wasn’t able to save you, that she spent a whole night wondering if you’d wake up after it all.

“I Um-I’ve got some things to do. So I guess I’ll see you around.” Ellie made a break for the front door before you could say your farewells. Footsteps come down the stairs as you turn to stand up. You see Joel come into the living room, floorboards creaking as he steps heavily onto them.

“God sakes I gotta get that shit fixed.” He mutters to himself before sitting on the uncomfortable lounge next to you. “How you feeling’ kid?” You shrug, confused with everything and your lack of memory of last night. “Is Ellie okay?” Joel sighs heavily, looking at you with cautious eyes.

“She had a rough night, watched you all night cause she didn’t think you’d wake up.” You gasp in shock “w-what do you mean?”

“Some guy at the bar drugged you-Ellie beat the fuck outta him for trying to.. hurt you. You’d passed out and we got you back here, she stayed up all night watching you. Makin sure you were still breathin’.”

“O-oh my god. She just left-she. Joel I’m sorry I have to go.” Tears are falling down your face, your chest is constricting with the pain and guilt of Ellie wondering if you were going to die or not, this had to mean she cared, right?

“Take it easy kid.” Joel mutters as you stumble on your feet, you rush out of the house with no shoes, wearing the dress from the night before and a small blanket from their hours wrapped around you. “Ellie?” You call out, the slight breeze carrying your voice to the stables where Ellie was hiding, tears in her own eyes as she struggles to come to terms with what happened.

“Ellie?” You call as you walk into the stables, finding her pet the newest horse to your stable, Maple. She was letting his white mane, unmoving as you unlock the door and walk towards her, the hat crunching underneath your bare feet.

“El?” She jumps as your arm caresses her arm, her eyes avoidant still even as you stand in front of her. She retracts her arm from over the wooden gate to let her arm fall to her side. “How are you feeling?” She finally asks, her voice hoarse and unfamiliar, it was vulnerable, a side of Ellie you’d never seen before.

“Okay I guess. I was hoping we could talk. If I caught you at a bad time-“ Ellie finally looks up at you, her green eyes glossy and full of tears ready to fall. “No-no it’s okay-stay please.” She protests at the thought of your absence.

“Joel told me what happened.” You didn’t sugar coat it, Ellie knew you better than to do that. “Oh,” she hums, looking at you with her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I just wanted to say sorry and thank you.” Ellie frowns at you, brushing her fringe out of her face. “Why are you saying either?”

“I’m sorry you thought I was going to die, and thank you for protecting me from-you know.” You mumble towards the end, trailing off. Unsure of how to finish the sentence.

“I was so scared when he put that shit in your drink-no one else did anything. They were just going to let him,” her breathing stutters as she relives the night. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. I was too late, you’d already taken a drink and I just- I lost it.”

Her eyes are pleading, asking you to understand her. You do, you feel for what she’s been through, the protectiveness she feels over you. “You fell unconscious right in front of me I just… then you didn’t wake up,” Ellie sobs, the fear of losing you overcoming her like a fright train, uncaring for how someone else may perceive her.

“Oh Ellie.” You pull her into you, she rests her head on your shoulder, you rub her back as she cries into you. “I’m-so sorry.” She hiccups as she cradled into you. She never wanted to let you go again, she couldn’t bare it-being away from you.

“I hurt you so badly, I-“ you caress the back of her head, her soft hair felt velvety in between your fingers. You massage the back of her neck gently, her breathing slowly steadies as you feel her relax into you at your nurturing touch.

“Shh let’s not talk about that, I forgive you Ellie. You saved me, protected me.” Ellie pulls back slightly, looking down at you into your eyes, still in your embrace.

“I need you, I need you to be mine-officially. Please.” Your bottom lip trembles and you nod, “yes, god yes.” You pull Ellie down to your lips, she kisses you as gently as she ever has, the passion and love she feels for you doesn’t go unspoken.

You pull away, breathless. “Baby you must be freezing, let’s get you home.” You’d completely forgotten you hadn’t put shoes on, you gently shiver as you realise it’s windy outside.

Ellie takes off her green jacket and wraps it around you, pulling it right around you before she picks you up, causing you to squeal in shock. She carries you bridal style, her arm muscles are sending a primal heat to your core.

“Love you so much,” you sigh dreamily as you mumble, unaware of what you’re saying.

“I love you, baby.” She nuzzled you with her nose before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Say it again.” You sigh in content. Ellie laughs loudly, her eyes squinting as she throws her head back. “I love you.” She repeats sweetly, as she looks at you, in her arms completely in love she realises, not everyone is out to hurt you-some are there to love, cherish, nurture. The latter is you; and how lucky she was you gave her a second chance.

[rabbitsrams]

I'm just leaving a request for when you get to it absolutely no rush but pls more lunch club schlatt im feral for him

absolutely anon <3 i love this sm!! will be about meeting him at a party the m*sfits (unfortunate) were hosting in los angeles circa early 2020 era <3

i've written a lot about lc schlatt a lot already but idgaf i love writing more <3333 this turned into a whole fic hehe

nsfw under the cut, minors dni!! 18+ only.

you were dragged along by a friend who was invited by their friend. because they had to go to a huge youtuber party and you weren't gonna let them go alone.

the house is HUGE, wasn't a surprise that you lost the group as soon as you went inside. you decide to wait by the drinks on the off-chance someone you know would show up. none of your friends did, but someone else did.

out of all the creators you watched who were at this party, you were a casual fan of jschlatt's content. you were around when he did a face reveal, shocked that he was this cute guy your age instead of a 45-year-old man (it's the voice, sue me).

even in the darkness, you recognized him. you were too stunned to say anything as he grabbed the only water bottle in the area.

"you, uh... you want anything?" he asks. that voice. that voice you've only heard through headphones was now two feet in front of you. you shake your head.

"i, uh, i don't feel comfortable getting drunk at a party where i don't know anyone." you say, looking down at your hands.

"fair enough. uh... ah fuck, i got the last water, 'm sorry."

"i-it's fine," you take a deep breath. "uh, a-are you jschlatt? your voice sounds really familiar."

he chuckles. "yeah..."

"oh wow," you laugh. "i knew it."

it's silent for a moment before schlatt pipes up again. "d'ya know anyone here?"

"i came with my friend, who is nowhere to be found. their friend apparently knows whoever is hosting and got us in."

"ah," he takes another sip of water. "you can't find your friend?"

you shake your head. "whatever. they'll only find me if they need a ride home. i don't care anymore." you grab a can of beer and walk away from the drink table, trying to find a quiet place to stay. schlatt follows you for a moment before taking you to his room upstairs.

it's a breath of fresh air. the music is muffled and schlatt's temporary room is spacious and (mostly) clean. he invites you to sit on the bed with him and you continue your conversation from earlier. he's actually a lot nicer than you expected him to be (considering his online persona). and he's even cuter in person.

soon enough you find yourself leaning in to kiss him. he's a bit nervous and doesn't kiss you back.

"sorry. i, uh, never kissed anyone before." he confesses.

"that's okay. i've only kissed one other person and it's been a while since that happened." you say. that makes him relax a little. he cups your cheek and leans in, hesitantly pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you pull him closer, moaning softly as you put your hands in his hair. he whines.

you pull away. schlatt's face is tinted red and hints of your lipstick are all over his lips. "i, uh, wow..." he murmurs. you smile, moving closer and straddling him. he's already rock-hard underneath you. "s-sorry..."

"oh my gosh, don't be, it's okay." you grind your hips down, feeling his dick twitch in his jeans.

"h-honey, please... 'm gonna... b-bust. w-wanna do it i-inside ya..." he whimpers. you nod, removing your dress and panties. he kicks his jeans and boxers off. he leans to the left, opens a drawer and takes out a condom.

"oh thank god, i was prepared to go out and ask for one," you giggle. schlatt doesn't respond, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him. you ease yourself inside him, and before you can start moving, he groans loudly.

"fuck, 'm so sorry."

"did you..."

"yeah."

"oh."

"w-wait, i don't wanna leave you hangin'," schlatt says. he helps you lay next to him. "can i touch you?"

"y-yes... please..." you whine. he coats his fingers with your wetness before slowly sliding them inside you. you clench around him, whining as he begins thrusting them in and out of you. he rubs your clit with his other hand and before long, you're coming all over his fingers.

"fuck, that was... so good..."

"yeah? it wasn't too, uh..."

"totally fine. uh, we can always do it again, dunno how long you'll be here but um... i can give you my number."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

after you both clean up and get dressed, you exchange phone numbers. the party is slowly dying down. your friend texts you that they don't need a ride so you leave. as you drive back, you get a message from schlatt, already eagerly asking for your next meeting.

[elliesmainhoe]

RECKLESS

Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Summary: While working, Joel comes in and tells you that your girlfriend, Ellie, was injured on patrol.

Contents: Slight misogyny, injury, swearing, angst, fluff, unconsciousness, playful banter.

Everyone in Jackson had a role, a purpose. Naturally Ellie was assigned to patrol and scavenge. Ellies strength was admirable, she was smart in combat, strong and immune, it was obvious why Maria put her on patrol. But you hated it.

You were never a natural fighter, more soft in nature. You were assigned as a glorified babysitter, taking care of toddlers during the day while their parents went off on errands and jobs. So you knew very little on combat.

Ellie loved that about you, your kind sweet and carefree nature, you seemed so fragile she had this urge to protect you ever since she first saw you chasing down a run away five year old, smiling and laughing as mud and snow splattered on your clothes.

You loved the kids, they loved you back. The small day care building always filled with childish babbles and bubbly giggles. You loved your job but you hated Ellie's. The idea of your girlfriend running from clickers. Shooting and climbing in abandoned building, death lurking round every corner.

You knew she was immune, her immunity calmed your nerves a ton. But immunity didn't protect her from people. Due to your kind demeanor people often assumed you were gullible and timid so they tried to take advantage of that. You couldn't count the amount of times you'd clutched your hidden pocket knife when someone approached you.

People in fucked up situations become morally grey and inhumane. Willing to do anything to achieve they're end goal. And it was horrifying, you trusted Ellie with your life, but you didn't trust others.

"Miss Y/NNN" a small squeaky voice pulled you from your chance. A small brunette girl looked up at you, doe eyes filled with tears, puffy cheeks and a snotty nose.

"Oh, What's wrong Nora? Why you crying huh?" You say bending your knees and crouching to her eye level.

"Miles won't share his toys cars with me-me. He says- He says I'm a girl so I can't play with cars" her words were rushed, small sobs and sharp intakes of breath between words. "Oh I'm sorry sweet pea, I'll go talk to him, why don't you go colour for a minute and I'll get you a car, yeah?" She sniffed, wiping her snotty nose with the sleeve of her cardigan and waddling towards the colouring table. Sighing softly you turn towards the group of boys pushing small cars on wooden tracks around on the floor.

"Hey guys, you've made Nora quite upset, can you tell me why you did that" you spoke softly, sitting down next to the group of 4 year old boys.

"because she's a girl. And these are our toys..." He mutters moving the toy car and bashing it into his friends.

Thinking on how to approach this you start talking. "In Jackson, everyone shares, the other day I was food shopping and your mother shared some of her vegetables with me. You see if you want to be a big boy you have to learn to share sweetheart. Nora might be a girl but she can still like cars."

He looks at you "So if I go give Nora a car, I'm a big boy?" He questioned, looking comically puzzled. "Yeah that would be really nice of you honey." You say an encouraging smile painting your face as he begins to wonder towards the brunette girl, two toy cars in his hands.

"Y/N." A deep voice sounded from behind you. Quickly getting up and turn around "Joel." You said to the man whose frame took up the majority of the doorway. "What's up?, usually you don't come visit me during work." You added, a smile graced your face at the welcome visit from the man.

"Uh, Ellie came back from patrol and she's not looking too good. She was shot with an arrow in her shoulder, it wasn't bad by itself but it sent her falling forwards and she hit her head, she's out cold." He explained to you, the worry written on his features soon matching yours. You felt your heart drop, a sense of dread overcame you.

"Oh shi-" you cut yourself off looking at the distracted 2-6 year olds, "shoot." You finish "where is she?" "She's in my spare room, I patched her up she'll have a headache when she wakes up and have to rehabilitate her shoulder for a few weeks, thankfully." He answered.

" my shift ends in five, Gia should be here for her shift soon, you mind staying here till she shows up?" He sends a nod your way and you immediately grab your jacket and bag leaving the middle aged man with the group of fifteen toddlers. If you weren't so worried about your girlfriend, you would've laughed at the situation. Joel miller with a crowd of children, completely hopeless. Poor man.

Your feet hurried as the sight of Joel's house came into view. Hurrying up the porch steps, swinging the door open, quickly throwing your shoes off, dumping your backpack on the ground and rushing upstairs.

Opening the spare rooms door, your breath caught in your throat as the sight of your unconscious girlfriend laying on the double bed, bandages rapped around her shoulder, a patch on her head, covering what you can imagine Is a large bruise. You moved forwards, perching on the mattress looking down at Ellie.

Her face looked calm and serene, her beautiful brown hair falling Infront of her face, her soft lips had a small split in it. You kissed her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ears. You looked around the room, your eyes focusing on the rocking chair pushed into the bay window. Getting up and pushing the chair closer to her sleeping form.

You say on the chairs floral cushion, reaching forward and grabbing her hands. Absentmindedly your fingers began to trace the veins and scars on her hands.

"hey.. HEY." Your body jolted up abruptly, being startled awake by a husky voice. "Ellie..." Tears welled in your eyes as you stood up and cradles Ellie's face.

"you are such an idiot, so so reckless and stupid..." You mutter gazing into her eyes, you saw her lips quirk up in amusement. "Don't smile, you're in a huge amount of trouble, missy" you say sternly, raising an eyebrow at her when she rolls her eyes playfully in retaliation.

"sorry, miss Y/n" she mumbled pouting out her bottom lip, mimicking the kids you work with.

"Oh shut up" you reply, you lean down, gently pulling yourself closer, and tenderly push your lips against hers. A sigh leaves both of your mouths, relief evident in both the softness of the kiss and in the happiness of Ellie being okay.

She's okay, she's alive. Of course she's alive, your girl is so strong, she'd never leave you.

Ellie breaks the kiss murmuring a soft "c'mere" and patting the empty spot next to her on the bed. You scooch yourself over to her, resting your head on her uninjured shoulder and nuzzling into the crook of her neck. Her hand reaches out and cradles the back of your head, dragging her hands through it, softly combing and detangling.

"I'm alright beautiful, I'm all okay. I've been through too much shit to let an arrow fuck me over. And I could never leave my pretty girl alone, you're stuck with me sweetheart, you're never getting rid of me, for as long as I can help it.

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I like this one more than my last one. I hope you enjoyed this mini-fic. If all goes to plan then I should be uploading some head canons later too.

NOT PROOFREAD